Chapter 3
THREE
TYSON
I’ve never seen Jasper so worked up over one woman, but this mystery girl has stolen all of his rational thinking, and I can’t stand it much longer.
It’s been two weeks since he found out her full name, and every waking second is spent on his research, or literally stalking the poor girl.
For a third night in a row, he camped outside her apartment, convinced that he’ll dig up dirt at night, when she’s least expecting him.
His obsession is starting to raise my curiosity, wondering if this girl is really as mysterious as he claims, but I haven’t made my side missions known to Jasper.
Shockingly, I share business economics with Carter, and I’ve kept a watchful eye, but she hasn’t noticed me staring at her, even though I only bothered coming to class since realizing she belongs there, too.
She’s just as beautiful in person as her school photo, and I’ve never been so mesmerized by a woman before, but Jasper was right – there’s something about her.
Today, she’s wearing a navy blue long sleeved shirt, a tiny denim skirt, and black boots, standing out like a sore thumb against the preppy girls in this school that solely dress to impress in bright colors.
Rather than sitting in her usual seat toward the front, she takes the one directly next to me, her floral perfume immediately stealing my breath.
Of course she smells good, too, and I’m wondering how good she’d taste with my head buried between her thighs.
“What’s your name?” She asks, cutting straight to the point, her bright blue eyes piercing a hole straight through me.
“Tyson, and you?”
“Are you fucking following me, too, Tyson?” She asks, lowering her voice, ensuring nobody else can hear us.
“Um, no. I’ve been taking this class since the start of the semester,” I say, only slightly lying, because I’d never bothered to show up until I needed to see her.
“Tell Jasper to stop creeping outside my windows at night, and you, stay the hell away from me.”
“Jasper? He lets you call him by his real name?” I laugh, not even able to remember the last time I heard someone dare to use his full name.
“He doesn’t let me call him anything, and I don’t want him following me anymore,” she says sternly, rage building behind her eyes as if this conversation is physically painful for her.
“Sorry, but if you want Massi to leave you alone, you’ll have to deal with him yourself,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulders and leaning back in my chair.
“For fuck’s sake, you’re useless,” she quips, rolling her eyes just as the Professor steps to his podium and greets the class.
She starts to stand up, grabbing her bag, but I wrap my hand around her arm, looking directly into her eyes.
“Sit down, Carter,” I say, the darkness in my voice taking over, and her mouth pops open, even if only slightly, and rather than snarking back she does what she’s told, albeit with an annoyed look painted on her face.
“I never told you my name,” she whispers, keeping her focus on the teacher, and her eyes averted from mine.
“No you didn’t, and that was pretty rude, actually,” I mimic her sass, and I swear, a stifled laugh echoes between us, a minuscule giggle that could only be heard because we’re sitting so close.
“You and your little friend are going to be the death of me,” she groans, her sassy little attitude lighting a fire inside me in ways I never knew were possible.
I just know she’d be a brat, and there’s nothing more fun than breaking that spirit, something I’d love to fuck right out of her.
“Oh, but what a way to go, don’t you think, Stellina?” I fire back, and her eyes widen, a smart ass remark right on the tip of her tongue.
“What is it with the two of you and stupid nicknames? I’m not yours, and I’m certainly not your little star.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest with an expression on her face that I can’t quite read.
“You speak Italian? Impressive.” I poke her arm, attempting to rile her up a little more, and the second my finger connects with her body, I’m electrified, my heart racing against my chest like a beating of drums.
“Here and there. It’s a fascinating language,” she answers, and for the first time, her voice sounds genuine.
“It’s called the language of love for a reason,” I tease, and she rolls her eyes once more, the moment gone as fast as it came.
I’m quite literally flirting with danger, because if Massi found out I was even breathing near this girl, he’d chop me into little pieces and scatter my guts across the country.
Even so, I can’t stop myself, desperate to keep trading barbs with the smart ass girl beside me.
“Are you hitting on me, Tyson?” She asks, batting her eyelashes as she rests her elbow on the table, looking directly into my eyes.
“Depends, is it working?”
“Absolutely not,” she breathes, her cheeks turning bright red, and I know I’ve got her right where I want her.
“Don’t test me, Carter. You won’t like what I’ll have you begging for.” I lower my voice, inching even closer into her orbit until we’re nose to nose.
“You have no idea what I like,” she quips, her tongue darting out to lick her lower lip, and I’m so tempted to shove my fingers in her mouth, to test out whether or not she has a gag reflex.
Everything about this girl is dangerous, I can feel the risky energy radiating off her perfect little body, but I’m not one to run away when things get a little scary.
“Don’t you worry, Stellina. One day I’ll find out.” I brush my thumb along her lips, trailing until I reach her jawline, and her eyes follow my fingers while her body trembles against the chair.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kelly, am I interrupting something?” The professor asks, ripping us both from the trance we were lost in, and all heads swivel in our direction.
“Actually, yes, but go ahead with your lesson, Sir,” I say sarcastically, and I sneak a peek at Carter, who’s attempting to mute her laughter with a hand clamped over her mouth.
For the rest of the lecture I leave her alone, but still taking every chance to study her as she shifts back into focus, taking meticulous notes on her laptop.
When she clicks out of the tab, I notice the background photo is of her, standing with a group of people, and finally, we have a break in Massi’s case.
Whatever she may, or may not be, hiding is on this laptop, and I know he’ll take what he needs, whether that be willingly, or forcefully.
The violence is escalating.
Yesterday, two men from the Masseria family were found dismembered, their body parts currently rolling in with the morning tide, and our fathers are not pleased in the slightest.
Massi spent an hour being chewed out by his dad, blaming us for not keeping a closer eye on the ground, and while I’d never say it aloud, he’s right.
We’ve both been so consumed with chasing Carter that we haven’t been doing our rounds, shifts, or checking in with the guys we’re forcing to work extra while they cover our asses.
That ends tonight, though, as we’re both gearing up for a full night shift of questioning our men, patrolling the places we’ve deemed as low-protection, and acting like the leaders we were trained to be.
Massi takes this more seriously than I do, but we’ve both expressed our desire to get out one day, finally escaping from underneath our father’s thumbs.
We both take our weapons of choice, kevlar vests, and bluetooth ear pieces, deciding that splitting up to cover the ground we’ve slacked on lately would be the best approach.
Massi is the violent half of our brotherhood, where I tend to hang back and keep my hands clean, not really into the gore that comes with the gruesome act of taking someone’s life.
In contrast, I prefer to play good cop, extracting information before the pay off, proving exactly why we operate so well together.
“How are you ever going to survive without stalking Carter tonight?” I ask, teasing Massi as he drives, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel.
“Oh, we’ll be stopping by. She won’t get off that easily,” he says, and I roll my eyes, pretty confident that she isn’t hiding anything – at least anything that he needs to know.
“I already told you that she knows you’re watching her. What’s the point now, she won’t do anything if she’s aware,” I argue, circling back over the same discussion we’ve had since I confessed to talking with her in class.
Of course, I’d left out the part about our flirting, because after a rather dangerous encounter where she pulled a knife and threatened to stab him in the balls if he moved any closer, Carter has become a sore subject.
She’s not bending to his will, or falling all over herself at his feet, and it’s driving him fucking insane, not being able to get what he so desperately wants.
“I don’t care if she knows, Ty. I’m not letting up until I find out what she’s hiding,” he says, cutting the headlights as we get closer to our destination.
Selfishly, I haven’t told him about her laptop, or the fact that we’ve sat together in business economics every day since, afraid that he’d truly murder me for moving in on her, but we have a dynamic, something that I don’t think he’d be too keen on learning about.
Carter is intense, guarded, and smart as a whip, but I also can tell that her patience is a virtue, and it’s running thin.
The longer Massi stakes out her apartment, and follows her around campus, the more likely she is to lose her fucking mind on him.
“Come on, enough about her, let’s get to work.” He cuts the engine, and I shake off the thoughts of Carter, arriving at our first stop of the evening.
Matthew is a low-level dealer, a guy brought on to move product and keep the money flowing, but over the last two weeks, he missed three cash drops, and our fathers are convinced that he needs us to pay him a visit.
Stealing money is the number one way to get yourself killed when working for a Family, and this kid seems to have a death wish, something Massi is eagerly ready to hand down.
Moving in sync, we kick the door down, watching three baked idiots jump out of their skin as they raise their hands at the sight of our guns.
“On the floor. Now!” I command, and each of the men does as they’re told, while Massi searches them for weapons.
Looking around, it’s clear where the money has gone – straight up their noses – as white powder is dumped on a mirror, and rolled up dollar bills are lined along the table.
Massi makes eye contact, and while I only nod toward the table, immediately he catches the hint, rolling his eyes as a deep sigh is the only sound that can be heard in this room.
“You know, Matthew, the only thing worse than a thief, is a fucking junkie,” he says, using the barrel of the gun to tilt Matthew’s chin until he’s looking right at him.
Bracing for a familiar sound, I snap my eyes shut, and just as I do, I hear the piece connect to the kids’ face, the cracking of bone echoing throughout the space.
“I’m sorry, man! We just … we just wanted to party,” Matthew stutters, and I grab the other two kids, ushering them out the front door with a stern warning to forget they saw us.
They have nothing to do with this, and if the rage I saw in Massi’s eyes earlier was a sign, it only proves that this is going to be a long, bloody night.
“You owe the Masseria’s over three grand, how the hell do you plan to pay that back if the product is going up your nose?” He asks sarcastically, landing two swift punches to this kid’s ribs the second he inhales a breath.
Keeping out of the fight, I stand back with a watchful eye on the door as my brother works his anger out on this idiot dealer, lighting a cigarette while the show plays out in front of me.
This is life we were born into, and even though I hate every second of it, I know that getting out would be worse than a death sentence.
The Masseria Family is a lifelong commitment, especially if you were bred into the madness, something I know all too well.