Chapter Twenty
Collin
My favorite thing about not giving a fuck was that I didn’t knock.
My second favorite thing about not giving a fuck was that I got to shoot anyone who stood in my way.
The Tipponi mansion was nestled in the lavish, overrated hills of Napa Valley. If you ever had the common sense to watch the Godfather, this mansion resembles the one graced with a fresh horse head.
My favorite scene.
Anger was the only emotion currently motivating me. I lost control with Mr. Danes. I knew that having my angel there to witness his death had the capacity of becoming a shitshow, but she insisted, and lately, I'd been having a hard time telling that woman ‘No’.
She got to see the monster inside me firsthand.
With the others, I was violent, of course, but there was something about her being in that room—watching me avenge her.
It unlocked a box inside me, a box that contained a very primitive, possessive rage, and she was the key to it.
The knowledge that she had been hurt and touched drove me over the edge.
As I sliced his pale, clammy skin open, the image of fear in her eyes came to me.
As he screamed around the gag, I imagined her screams of pain and terror.
As I watched his skin bruise, I imagined the bruises she must have had.
An irrational guilt overcame me.
I should have been the one to protect her. An impossible thought. When this nightmare occurred, I was unaware of her fucking existence.
And yet?
I slaughtered that man like a damn animal, allowing his cries of agony to seep into my dark soul. My craving was satisfied, but when I turned around, I found my angel in a full-on panic attack.
Because of me.
She finally got to see the demon inside me in its evilest form. Her tears of fear—
“Mr. Stevens,” an elder man greeted us just outside the huge double doors of the house. The state of whatever this was between Karina and I would have to wait. Unfortunately for the people around me, I was not a patient man.
“Take us to Emily,” I demanded, already bored with the pleasantries.
He smiled. “Ms. Tipponi is out today, sir.”
Here came that not giving a fuck thing. I whipped out my 9mm, pointing it against his wrinkly, weathered forehead. “Don’t toy with me, old man.”
Charles Tipponi’s daughter was here. I had a man on the inside to confirm.
“Col,” my angel breathed from beside me, her hold on my arm tightening. I ignored her. She shouldn’t have been here either, but yet her place was at my side. That was where she had been for the last eight days, nineteen hours, and thirty minutes, and that is where she would remain. Forever.
The grand, double doors opened, a groan coming from the hinges, to reveal Emily Tipponi, seven men behind her and three on the stairs.
I raised a brow. “Unless you plan on digging graves today, Ms. Tipponi, I suggest you order your men to stand down.”
Her eyes darted from me to my angel to my man behind her. The princess sighed, exhausted. “Lower your guns, you buffoons,” she said, twisting her neck to look at her men.
Once they did as they were told, she turned back to us. “Follow me.”
Five minutes later, the four of us stood in the middle of Charles Tipponi’s study.
I had been here once or twice before, running errands for Romano.
Emily had just entered college then. Now, three years later, she stood in the middle of her father’s office with more power than she knew what to do with.
Out of the kindness of my heart, I was here to help with that.
“Where is my father?” the young Mafia princess asked as she rounded her father’s—no, he was dead—her desk. I smirked at her. That was the one thing I admired about the youngest Tipponi.
She was all business and no bullshit.
“I’m flattered you think I had something to do with his disappearance,” I drawled, ignoring Karina’s curious stare. There were many things I hadn’t told her yet, but there were things that she had been reluctant to tell me.
There was comfort in our secrets.
For now.
She would eventually know everything.
Emily scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Stevens. I know that when Romano needs—”
“I am no longer an errand boy, Ms. Tipponi. For the sake of the air in your lungs, you would do well to remember that,” I warned, my voice ice cold, freezing all possible doubts that hung between us.
Her features, softened. “You—you really have no idea what happened to him?”
I dusted off my shoulder. “Your father is dead.”
No point in hiding the truth.
She sucked in a harsh, broken breath as her little hand flew to her mouth.
I ignored it, moving to the impressive book collection on the opposite side of the study.
My angel remained frozen in her spot. Without looking, I snapped my fingers, and heard movement. Xander, one of my men, moved to stand behind Karina. If things went south, his orders were to get her out and, on a plane, back to St. Louis—to her family.
“Charles Tipponi’s blood is not on my hands,” I said simply, snatching a rare copy of Dante’s Inferno from the shelf before turning back to the mourning princess. A personal favorite of mine. “A man like me has the decency to deliver one’s head back to the family.”
Gift wrapped, too, though, sometimes that cost extra.
The young woman hissed through her tears. “You are sick!”
“Glad to see that you're finally catching on,” I deadpanned, glaring at her.
“If you didn’t kill my father, then how do you know about it and I don’t?” she demanded, bracing her palms on the large, wooden desk. Now she was asking the right questions. Such a clever girl.
The demon inside me smiled, my plan falling into place so beautifully. Someone should snap a picture to capture the moment.
“Ray Romano told me himself.”
She reared back, a gasp leaving her as betrayal slapped her in the face.
Months ago, when her older brother, Gabrial, was found dead in the streets of St. Louis, there was a meeting.
Their father demanded revenge—action to be taken.
Of course, Romano trusted me with the job of finding the Doctor—all while I was still hunting down Kevin.
Talk about knocking two birds out with one stone.
The truth was, I didn’t want to bring Kevin back to Romano.
But to keep up appearances, I had to.
Charles thought that he could stand up to Romano.
I had to applaud the man for having the balls. They just weren’t big enough.
As punishment, Charles lost a hand and a daughter to Ray. Emily was to be married to Tony Romano, and even after his death, Romano had kept in touch with the mafia princess.
He used her innocence against her and played her like a fool.
I knew better.
“He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you or your family, Emily,” I began, walking slowly to her. “I was at that meeting in New York when your father wanted to avenge Gabrial.”
She flinched again as her brother’s name left my lips.
“Romano didn’t care, but everyone else was concerned about your brother’s killer. Our King didn’t give a shit about your only sibling, Emily. All he said about it was that you should take over the Midwest branch,” I finished, stopping in front of her desk, noting the flash of hurt in her eyes.
Good.
She stared at me for a long while, the room frozen in silence.
“So what do you want?” she asked, clearing her throat as she regained her composure. I leaned over the desk, getting into her space.
“Your loyalty.”
She gasped. “He’ll kill you, Mr. Stevens.”
I smiled. “His kingdom is mine, Emily. I want you to stand with me. Boston is mine, Chicago is mine, Dallas is mine…” I trailed off, leaving the rest of the cities to her imagination.
She regarded me with hesitation. “What’s in it for me?”
I tilted my head. “For one, I won’t sell you to the sex rings like Romano plans to.”
Her legs gave out the same time Karina gasped from behind me, collapsing back into the chair, her jaw hanging open in disbelief. “No, Mr. Romano wouldn’t do that. He said that—”
“Swear your loyalty to me, and I'll ensure the safety of you, your home, and the man currently residing in your bed,” I said, rising to my full height.
“Leave him out of this,” she begged, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she loved the man.
A second smile, one of pure cockiness, found its way across my face again. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t if I tried. I’m the one who sent him to keep an eye on you.”
She snapped to her feet. “You—had him—”
I raised my hand. “Chad Mannan was supposed to keep an eye on you, not fuck you.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Don’t kill him.”
“I have no intentions of killing him,” I sighed, waving my hand. It was true. I recruited him shortly after his retirement from the Dodgers fourteen months ago. He and I both knew that he was forced to retire.
“And the sex rings?” she prompted.
My mood darkened at her question. “I may be a violent man, Ms. Tipponi, but I am not that kind of monster. The sex rings, and our involvement, will be taken care of. You have my word,” I promised, not breaking her gaze.
She blew out her breath and looked behind me. “She is beautiful. Forgive me for assuming something so disgusting,” she said softly, cringing.
I knew what she assumed. “Things are going to be different. All you have to do is pledge the West to me.”
“You would leave control of the West to me?” Surprise was laced throughout her soft voice.
I raised a brow. “Unless you think you aren’t suited for the job,” I leaned down again, “or if you want to get out of this. Now is the time. You can take your baseball player and start a new life.”
My words hung in the air as my thoughts drifted back to Davenport and Connors, and my chest ached.
Fucking hell.
I felt a hand on my shoulder blade. “You can trust him, Emily.”
My entire body stiffened, and the ache in my chest turned into full blown pain as Karina’s soft words flowed through me.
“How do you two know each other?” Emily questioned.