Chapter 2
Chapter Two
H ow the hell did everything become so epically fucked up?
Someone is out for me. That’s no surprise— it comes with the territory when you’re the head of one of The Five Families— but they’re bold to make a move on me as big as this one.
I won’t run, though. It’s not who I am, and I sure as shit won’t be running when I’m not guilty.
But whoever is framing me is starting a war, one they won’t be winning if I have anything to do with it.
Although I’ve been arrested and am currently sitting in a jail cell, I’m still able to pull some strings.
Some cops want protection. I offer that, and in return, they owe me.
That’s why Trigger is sitting in my cell with me right now as we discuss our next move, the drone of the TV playing in the corner concealing our conversation from anyone eavesdropping.
“That’s the look of a guilty man if ever I saw one,” Trigger sniggers beside me, watching the news footage from earlier today on the TV screen.
He’s the head of his own family now, the Colombo’s, and he’s also one of my best friends.
It doesn’t matter that once upon a time, our families were in an inescapable feud.
Times have changed and thanks to me continuing my father’s work, all five families are synchronized.
Despite the gossip running around the city, we’re not in a feud against one another.
Our success is largely due to how close we are. We’re essentially family.
“And yet he’s walking free,” I scoff. “That’s why I need her .
” I point at the screen to indicate the woman standing beside the recently freed man, fielding the reporters’ questions.
Stunning green eyes the color of Tanqueray bottles gaze into the camera, her words a jumble of legal jargon that I don’t quite follow.
I’ve heard of Cassidy Caruthers—the ice-cold lawyer with a body built to start wars and a reputation for leaving grown men in shreds on the courtroom floor.
One look at those sharp green eyes, and I know she’s the kind who’d ride you like she’s in control—and dare you to take it from her.
I smirk, my cock already hard at the thought of that mouth moaning my name while she claws at my back, begging for more.
She looks like trouble. My favorite kind.
“She’ll be here,” Trigger replies with conviction, his voice cutting through my dirty thoughts.
“Good.” I nod as deviant thoughts invade every cell in my brain. Trigger’s mind also seems to be on other things, though I doubt we’re thinking the same. “What’s up with you?” I quirk a brow, my voice low and gruff from a shitty night’s sleep.
Trigger shrugs, then shows his usual tell that he’s up to something. He scrapes the back of his neck with his hand, smirking and avoiding eye contact with me.
“Got some broad breathing down my neck,” he grunts, and while he matches my tone, there’s a hint of amusement in it. He enjoys the cat-and-mouse game as much as I do.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I question.
He nods.
“Who?”
“Nobody important,” he grumbles, brushing me off.
“Be careful, brother,”I warn. The last thing we need is more heat. I’m already towing a fine line of conviction, and if I go down, The Five will lose its structure.
“I will. She’s got all the false leads she needs. It’ll take her forever to find me.” He smirks again.
I raise a brow. “FBI?”
Trigger shakes his head. “NYPD. I have it covered,” he answers confidently.
I don’t press further. I have no issues with the way he runs things. All five of us—well, technically four — are in perfect sync. It’s an agreement we all came to when we replaced our predecessors. There are rules we follow, and they’re our own.
While I handle the weapons—deals running in and out of the city like clockwork—Trigger Colombo runs the gambling outfit with a steel fist and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He’s the one shaking down bookies, collecting from the desperate bastards who can’t pay up, and making sure everyone under our umbrella knows what happens if they try to fuck us over.
Protection money, bets, underground fights—if it brings in cash and keeps our name feared, Trigger’s behind it.
We outsource muscle when we have to, but make no mistake—Trigger does his own enforcing.
He makes sure our cut is never late, and when it is, someone bleeds.
Max Lucchese is the silent giant. He launders money across the city, following in his father’s footsteps.
He’s also a dab hand with his tech, and I already know he’s working hard on chasing leads to pin down whoever set me up.
We’ve always been close. Our fathers were friends for a long time before my father’s murder, and it’s stayed that way ever since.
The last member of our little family is Hunter Gambino.
He owns all of Hell’s Kitchen— the bars, the clubs, the restaurants…
there isn’t anything that guy isn’t involved in.
He also runs drugs through the city. And despite all that, he’s the Golden Boy, a man I’ve always seen as a distraction to getting what we want, but trustworthy nonetheless .
Ryder Genovese is new to our organization, and he’ll be the fifth member of The Five someday.
His father still holds his family’s title and I don’t hold any place for Don Genovese, but his son has potential.
Ryder is young, eager and loyal. There’s a place for him in The Five, but it’s not official until his old man either passes the torch or croaks.
“So, Caruthers?” Trigger fists his pockets, immediately attempting to change the subject. “You need to give her something,” he presses. “That lawyer won’t get you out without information.”
I know he’s right, but I only trust a select few, and she isn’t one of them.
Not yet anyway. My head is still in my hands, rubbing the aching exhaustion from my face.
Despite my sway on getting a TV in this cell, the mattress I’ve been sleeping on does my back no favors.
The spring I’ve been trying to avoid digs into my thigh, making me grimace uncomfortably.
“She’ll want to record our conversations.” I screw up my face in a scowl, and dig my fingers into my scalp, though the action is more due to the shitty mattress than the prospect of opening myself up to interrogations that have nothing to do with the Mayor’s death.
“Well…” Trigger shifts, turning his head over his shoulder to ensure the coast is clear. “Maybe it’s time you trusted someone other than us.”
I look up at Trigger, watching him thoughtfully. The last person I would ever want to bring into this outfit is a lawyer, but maybe he’s right. If we have a lawyer on our side, we might not need to waste so much money on avoiding charges.
Eventually, I nod, accepting what I need to do. Ms. Caruthers will be here tonight and I need to think about how to play this.
I roll onto my back, the lumpy mattress digging into my spine.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through the news articles—stories about the one and only, Cassidy Caruthers.
Those green eyes pierce through the screen like she knows exactly what kind of man I am—and dares me to prove her right.
My jaw tightens, a low thrum building in my chest as I study her.
Sharp. Unapologetic. Dangerous in all the ways that make my cock twitch.
I need to get fucking laid. It’s been too long, and this woman has me ready to ruin something just to see if she’ll flinch.
I rub a hand down my face, trying to shake it off, but it lingers. The tension. The hunger. The way her mouth curves like a challenge. I haven’t even met her yet, but I already know she’s the kind of woman who doesn’t break easy. And fuck me, that just makes me want to be the one who tries.
The woman seems to be a formidable force. She’s taken on the city more than once, defending criminals that should have been hung by their balls from the day the cuffs went on. But somehow, Cassidy has managed to find loopholes for all their charges. Whatever this woman has, I need it.
Trigger stands up, brushing a hand through his hair. “I need to get going.”
“Keep in the shadows,” I mutter.
He doesn’t really need my advice. The man knows the city better than I do, and he knows what to expect from it. Nothing.
I shoot him a concerned look when he doesn’t respond. From the look of defeat swimming in his eyes, I’d hazard a guess that he’s still reeling over what happened a few weeks ago, but I know better than to push him for answers.
Trigger turns and calls out to a guard, who swiftly unlocks the cell door and lets him out.
He gives me one last look and I probably read farther into it than I should.
If I wasn’t so sure about his mental state, I’d be certain he was blaming himself for what happened.
But the guy is stronger than that. Revenge fuels his system, and it’s only a matter of time before he reaps it.
I sit patiently as the clock ticks by in the tiny interrogation room I’ve been stuffed into. My fingers are thrumming a smooth rhythm to a song in my own head and as I glance at the clock, I suppress my annoyance. She’s late —something that grips my shit.
Nothing pisses me off more than tardiness, but I’ll give Cassidy Caruthers the benefit of the doubt. I need her talent. I need her tenacity. I need her ruthlessness.
The door to the interrogation room swings open, the clip of heels against the floor snapping me to attention immediately.
A leggy blonde with sharp eyes stops short of the table I’m sitting at, clutching her coat and bag, her piercing green gaze locked with mine.
Those irises are even more captivating in person than on screen and it makes it so damn difficult to focus on remaining stoic, instead of undressing her with my eyes.