Chapter 13
JACKSON
I stepped out of Elena's bedroom, her phone gripped in my hand.
My mind whirled, trying to process what she'd just told me.
Anthony Cassaro's illegitimate daughter.
Jesus Christ. This wasn't just some corporate espionage or a rival family plant—this was a fucking family drama that had landed right in my lap.
Although, given the options, it was definitely a preferred one. We could deal with this much easier.
The sound of her crying followed me into the living room, each sob like a knife between my ribs. I'd made her cry. I'd scared her. But I couldn't afford to feel guilty about that right now. This was my job—protecting the family, even from threats they didn't know existed.
But was she even a threat? Would she have planned to do anything with what she'd discovered? Something told me Roman could shed light on the connection between Pristine Solutions and what Elena had told me, although I had a few possibilities in mind.
I dialed Roman's number, pacing the small living room. The broken dining table was right there, taunting me, a stark reminder of what had happened between us less than thirty minutes ago. Before everything went to shit.
"What did you find out?" Roman answered on the first ring.
"Anthony Cassaro was her father."
Silence stretched across the line for several seconds.
"Fuck," Roman finally said. "You're sure?"
"That's what she claims. Her mom's dying of cancer, which we know, and she went looking for her father to help with medical bills. Found out he was dead and that he had other kids—Grayson and Meredith."
"Hold on." I heard Roman's muffled voice as he spoke to someone else.
Then he came back on the line. "We've got some of the PI's files.
Carl hacked his cloud storage. From what we can see, her story checks out.
Elena's birth certificate doesn't list a father, but the PI had evidence, some photos of Anthony with a woman who must be Elena's mother.
We'll cross-reference the photos to confirm.
It's plausible. And better than alternative reasons," he muttered the last part.
I ran a hand over my face. "What about those dates? The Pristine Solutions payments she was looking into?"
Roman's voice dropped lower. "That was when Anthony Cassaro died. When we covered it up."
It had been one of my guesses. "Covered what up?"
"He was an abusive bastard, Jackson. Would've ended up killing Meredith if Grayson and Leo hadn't stopped him. They did what they had to do."
The pieces clicked into place. The "accident" that had killed Anthony Cassaro fourteen years ago hadn't been an accident at all. And Pristine Solutions—they'd cleaned it up. Elena had just found the evidence of her father's murder and the Donatis coverup.
"Jesus," I muttered. "I guess she started digging, that PI must have told her enough for her to make connections, enough to want to look deeper."
"I know I'll carry this to my grave," Roman said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "I trust you to do the same."
"Of course." It wasn't even a question, but now Elena knew, she didn't have hard proof, not anymore, but even then, those screenshots weren't great evidence, and we'd have it thrown from any courtroom.
But what had she been planning to do with it?
Had the coverup been done well enough? We'd bury it even better now with this development anyway.
I didn't think the Donatis would be sloppy, and the only way she'd found anything was because she had known where to look.
"I need to talk to Leo about all this. Stay with her until we figure out what to do. See if she'll tell you what she planned to do with the information. Don't let her leave."
"Understood."
Just as Roman hung up, pounding erupted on the apartment door, followed by a frantic female voice.
"Elena! Elena, are you in there? Are you okay? Open up!"
I set Elena's phone on the counter and moved toward the door, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun I normally kept holstered at my side—but I wasn't wearing it. My clothes were scattered across the dining room floor.
The bedroom door opened behind me, and Elena emerged wrapped in a robe, her face tear-stained and wary.
"It's Ivy," she whispered. "She's worried."
"Elena!" The voice outside grew more desperate. "If you're in there, please open the door!"
I positioned myself between Elena and the door. "Stay back."
I opened the door cautiously, and a blur of motion came at me—a fist swinging toward my face. I dodged it easily, catching the wrist of a slender woman with bright red hair.
"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" she spat, struggling against my grip. I was quick to grab her other wrist as I saw her lift a red pepper spray bottle up. That wouldn't have been pleasant.
"Calm down before I'm forced to restrain you," I warned, my voice low. "Elena is fine."
"Ivy!" Elena pushed past me. "I'm okay!"
The unnaturally dark redhead—Ivy—stopped fighting and stared at Elena, relief washing over her face.
"Thank God. I've been calling and calling.
When you didn't answer, I thought—" Her eyes narrowed as she took in Elena's nightgown and my state of undress.
"What the hell is going on? I'd like to think you finally got laid, but something tells me this is something more than that. "
Well, she wasn't wrong there.
"I'm fine, it's just a misunderstanding. How did you get here?" Elena asked.
"I got a ride from?—"
A shadow fell across the doorway, and my blood ran cold. A man stepped into the apartment, his face vaguely familiar from the surveillance photos I'd studied. Dark hair, olive skin, expensive suit.
"Fuck," I cursed, lunging toward my pants that lay crumpled on the floor near the broken table.
Too late. The metallic click of a gun being cocked froze me in place.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said, his accent light but distinctly Italian.
Elena gasped, and Ivy cried out, "Alfie, what are you doing?"
Alfie. Alfeo Malatesta. One of Fiorenzo Malatesta's nephews.
"Get back, both of you," Alfeo spat at the two women, who were already backing away from him.
They scrambled behind the couch as I slowly straightened, hands raised. Alfeo's eyes gleamed with triumph as he bent down and picked up my pants, finding my holstered Glock.
"Well, well. I really got lucky tonight, didn't I?" He grinned, tucking my gun into his waistband. "All three of you in one place."
The pain hit me a second after the deafening shot rang out—a sharp, burning sensation in my left leg. One of the girls screamed, although I wasn't sure who.
I staggered back, crumpling to the floor as my leg gave out, my hand instinctively going to the wound. Warm blood seeped between my fingers.
"That's to make sure you behave," Alfeo said, the gun now pointed at my chest. "The Donatis will be eager to make a deal for you. They tend to take care of their own." His gaze shifted to Elena and Ivy, cowering behind the couch. "Besides, I know there's a story with these two ladies."
Options, scenarios, they all flashed through my mind quickly, the training and calculating mind rooted deep in my bones.
With my newfound injury and the gun trained on me, my chances weren't good.
And even if I could take him down, I couldn't risk Elena and Ivy getting caught in the crossfire.
Elena was just a desperate woman if her story was true, which I wanted to believe.
Facts would be the decider of that. As for Ivy, she was a civilian. I had to protect them.
"They're civilians," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the throbbing pain. "Wrong place, wrong time. They don't know anything."
Alfeo laughed, the sound cold and humorless. "The little whore was asking questions all over Velvet. There's definitely more going on here."
He pulled out his phone, keeping the gun trained on me as he made a call. "I need backup at 1432 West Avenue, apartment 3B. And bring the van." He ended the call and tucked the phone away.
"The whore—Candy, is it?" He looked at Ivy with a predatory smile. "Or should I say Ivy Halloway? You'll make a fine little toy. We can lock you in the basement until we use you up."
Ivy's face drained of color, and Elena gripped her friend's arm, her knuckles white.
Fucking prick.
"I thought you might be someone important, the way you were fishing for information," Alfeo continued. "But a little digging brought up nothing. Just a stripper with a big mouth." His gaze shifted to Elena. "As for you... we need to figure out who you are and how you tie into all this."
I shifted my weight slightly, testing how much mobility I had with my wounded leg and trying to bend my knee and toes.
Pain burned through me, making me grit my teeth.
I wouldn't be able to move fast enough, not even with the adrenaline pumping through me.
Not at this distance. Not with the gun pointed at my chest and Alfeo's finger on the trigger.
One wrong move, and he'd put a bullet through my heart. Or worse—through Elena or Ivy.
I was at peace with an early death, but those two… no, I couldn't risk them.
Blood continued to seep through my fingers, dripping onto the floor. The pain was manageable for now, but blood loss would become a problem soon. I needed to act before backup arrived, but I couldn't see an opening.
I was running out of ideas, and time was running out.
"You won't get away with this," I said, playing for time. "The Donatis will hunt you down."
"The Donatis," Alfeo spat. "Always thinking they're untouchable. My uncle's been too soft on them for too long."
I caught Elena's eye over the back of the couch.
She looked terrified, but there was something else there too.
She was thinking, planning, figuring out what to do, not waiting for a knight in shining armor, which wouldn't be coming.
I gave her the slightest shake of my head, warning her not to try anything.
But I knew that look. I'd seen it in soldiers about to do something brave and stupid.
God help us all.