Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Nathan
Not once, in my forty-six years of life, had I ever divulged a secret I didn’t mean to tell. When my parents questioned me about my grandmother’s broken vase, I said nothing. Hours of police interrogation had never gotten a single bit of incriminating evidence out of me. Even torture, which I had experienced only once during my earlier days as a Mafia boss, failed to have any effect.
So, it was a complete surprise when, upon saying that he wanted to personally make the people who hurt his friend pay, I ended up telling Deacon the truth about myself.
Not the entire truth. I still kept some secrets to myself. He didn’t know that I was the actual leader of the Chechen Mafia, but he now knew that I was an important member of it.
He also didn’t care. Or at least, he pretended that he didn’t care. I wasn’t sure if his nonchalant acceptance was real, or if it was just a symptom of his friend’s near-death experience. I still suspected that, once Kiki was well and her poisoner dealt with, the reality of the situation might finally catch up with Deacon and he would realize what he’d gotten himself into. However, for now, he sat beside me in a first-class airplane seat, watching the clouds out the window like he was just enjoying an average trip.
“Why don’t you have a private jet?” he asked suddenly.
The stewardess had already come around to serve drinks, and I held a glass of whiskey that was more ice-melt than alcohol. I’d hoped it would help settle me, but it didn’t. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt wrong-footed, and I couldn’t figure out how to find my balance again. The longer Deacon continued to act as though everything were normal, the more unsettled I felt.
“A private jet? No, I don’t have one. Why do you ask?”
With a shrug, Deacon closed the window shutter to block out the sunlight that reflected off the top of the clouds. “In movies and stuff, people...” His eyes darted around as he glanced briefly at the other passengers of the plane. In first class there was more space between the seats, but we still had no privacy. “People... in your position, always have their own private jets.”
“People in my position?”
It felt strange to make jokes about something I usually worked so hard to keep secret. My tongue tripped over my words, and I sarcastically turned his own phrase back on him just to hide the fact that I didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah. You know.” Deacon smirked and looked up at me through his lashes. “Big boss man.”
He started laughing, and I couldn’t help chuckling a little as well, though in the back of my mind, I worried. I hadn’t told him that I was the leader of my family, so his use of the word “boss” was likely just meant as a joke, but I still wondered if he’d somehow figured out more than I meant to tell him. He’d already convinced me to reveal my secrets to him. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he’d uncovered even more than I meant for him to know.
Pushing away the worry, I leaned back in my chair and forced myself to act casual.
“Owning a private jet really isn’t worth the effort. The plane doesn’t go any faster, and it’s a waste to burn so much fuel just to transport me. Usually, first class is good enough, though on the rare occasion when a public plane isn’t good enough, I can always rent a private jet, if needed.”
Deacon’s gaze flickered up and down my figure. “Hmmm. An environmentally responsible criminal mastermind, I see.”
Ever since learning the truth about who I am, he’d been in a strange mood. He was fidgety, like he had too much energy running through his veins. The unusual attitude contributed to my worry. I could tell there was a thought in his head that he hadn’t come to terms with, and feared what would happen when he finally did. However, until I could determine where we actually stood with each other, I would have to continue moving forward with my plans.
The world didn’t stop turning just because I was having an off day, and my enemies certainly wouldn’t give me a break to deal with personal issues.
Deacon’s face suddenly appeared right in front of me. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed him leaning over from his seat to stare at me.
His finger rubbed at the crease between my brows. “You seem worried. What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t admit that he was the thing worrying me.
What would I even say?
Stop acting so normal. Now that you know who I am, you’re supposed to be scared and disgusted with me.
I didn’t want such a thing to be true, and I didn’t want to accidentally wish it into existence by saying it out loud.
Instead, I gave him a different explanation. While not accurate, it was still true.
“I’m wondering how the fabric was poisoned in the first place. That kind of Vicuna fabric was hard to find. I had to call in a favor with some personal contacts to get my hands on it so quickly. It was in either my possession, or the possession of someone I trust, almost the entire time. So how could the poisoner have gotten access to it?”
Deacon finally looked worried as he considered what I’d said, but after only a moment, he returned to lounging in his own seat.
“I don’t really know how any of this works, but it seems to me that we’ll just have to ask the guy once we find him.”
He suddenly sat up from his relaxed pose and pinned me with a stern eye. “You are going to let me be there when you confront him, right?”
Deacon claimed that he wanted to personally take revenge for his friend, but did he really understand what that meant?
When we found the poisoner, the guy wasn’t going to tell us what we wanted to know. I would likely have to extract the information I wanted by force.
How would Deacon react once he saw the blood on my hands with his own eyes?
The flight from Las Vegas to New York was less than five hours, so before we knew it, we were climbing into a car waiting for us in front of the JFK airport.
“So, where are we going?” Deacon asked as he watched the tall buildings passing by the window.
Las Vegas was hardly a small city, but it was more of a sprawling structure of glitter and neon. New York was just as impressive in its own, different way. In the heart of the city, the buildings stood so tall the sky seemed like a forgotten memory, and the only way to see the expanse of blue was to crane your neck and stare straight up.
A police car drove past, going in the opposite direction to us. The inside of our car turned red and blue for a moment, then the siren faded into the distance. I waited for it to pass and for silence to fall again—or at least as silent as a major city ever got—and gave Deacon a basic explanation of what to expect.
During the five-hour flight, my contact in New York City had been busy. As soon as I agreed to take care of Caprice Vidales for D’Angelo, my first step had been to place a spy within the Vidales organization. I’d only wanted someone to keep an eye on things, but this spy had gone above and beyond, and managed to earn a place as Caprice Vidales’s secretary.
I’d have to give my spy a raise, because thanks to her efforts, I knew exactly where Caprice was at all times and exactly what the woman was doing. This is why I not only knew she was in New York, but exactly in which office building I could find her.
I also knew she was scheduled to meet with a member of her family who was well known among criminal circles as a hitman.
Poisoning the fabric at the studio had been a sophisticated tactic. Definitely the work of a professional. Their method should have worked. None one employed at the studio would have recognized the poisoned fabric for what it was, and it could have killed a lot of people before they realized what happened. Even the paramedics may not have realized the cause, and could have been poisoned as well.
Unfortunately for Caprice’s sabotage plans, I’d decided to make an impromptu visit to the studio in order to see Deacon, and I ended up putting a stop to their plan before it could do too much harm.
Caprice had to be seething right now, to learn that all her efforts had only resulted in the death of a single assistant designer whose absence wouldn’t affect Fantaisiste in any way.
Our car pulled to a stop in an alley behind the building.
“You’re going in alone?” Deacon asked as I held the door open for him.
“Of course not,” I said with a smile. “You’re here.”
I could see the concern on his face, and wondered if this was the moment he would realize what he was about to walk into, but a moment later, he steeled his resolve and stepped out of the car.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him as I closed the car door. “I’ve brought my own security. They’re already in place and just waiting for me.”
The door into the building had no visible security. There was a camera over the doorframe, but I had faith that my own people had already taken care of it. They wouldn’t be my people if they weren’t competent enough to take care of something so simple.
So, I strolled through the back door with ease and stepped into the reception area from the rear. The security stationed there was obviously surprised by my sudden appearance, but like true professionals, they didn’t bother to even question me before pointing their weapons in my direction.
Deacon grabbed by arm, understandably scared to be staring down the barrels of multiple guns. No matter how gung-ho he seemed about the situation, nothing could prepare someone for the first time they faced a weapon that could kill them with less effort than it took to sneeze.
Just as I’d promised, my security was already in position. Appearing out of seemingly nowhere, they took down the armed guards like silent shadows. Not a single bullet was fired, and no one was killed yet. The guards were simply restrained for now. My people knew better than to start killing until I’d given permission for lethal force. My main goal was always to keep a low profile, and that meant not leaving a string of bodies everywhere I went and resorting to deadly measures only when necessary.
I had no qualms against killing, but I always made it count when I did.
The guards in the front lobby weren’t the building’s only security. We ran into nearly a dozen guards on our way to the top floor.
By the elevator.
In the elevator.
Guarding the stairs.
Standing sentry on the top floor.
They were everywhere. Caprice was not taking any chances.
My people took care of every guard we came across with the same efficiency as the first ones, and my path to Caprice’s office was left unhindered.
“You’ve gotten paranoid in your old age, Caprice,” I said as I entered the office. “Not losing your touch, are you?”
The woman sitting behind the desk wasn’t even that old. Late thirties, at most. As someone well into their forties, I had no room to talk, but I knew the comment would piss her off.
She sneered at me, tapping her sharp red nails against the top of her desk. “What is this? The Wolf has his own pet now? Are you taking it for a walk?”
Some people, like D’Angelo, knew my name. I suspected that man might even know my real name. Caprice knew the name Nathan Sterling, but she didn’t know my original name, and I could tell it bothered her. The way she insisted on using my moniker, her lip twisting in displeasure over the word, made it obvious how much she hated being out of the loop.
The fact that D’Angelo and Caprice were both leaders within the Italian Mafia, yet there was such a difference in their information, was telling. Caprice was the head of the Vidales family, but she didn’t control the entire Italian Mafia. She was a lord who imagined herself as a king, and it gave her too much confidence.
A pair of women stood behind Caprice, armed to the teeth, and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Her personal bodyguards were specially picked, and very lethal.
Unfortunately for them, so was I.
A man sat on the other side of the desk, unremarkable except for the twisted scar just above his left eye. According to my spy’s information, this was the hitman who had poisoned my employees.
I nodded toward him. “Your man here missed. I’m not dead. Neither is my company. I’m surprised you thought that would work.”
Caprice scoffed. “I’m not foolish enough to think such a simple thing could kill you. That was merely to send a message.”
I felt Deacon grow tense at my side as he realized the man sitting just a few feet away was the one who had killed one of the other designers and hurt Kiki.
To distract everyone else in the room from Deacon, I took another step forward, so he was partially behind me.
“And what message is that?”
“That I know what you’re up to. You never had any interest in my business before. You’re only trying to compete with me because that spoiled brat asked you to get me off his back so he can deal with his little Russian friends.”
She really was bold if she considered the Russians to be ‘little’. Even I would hesitate before getting involved with them. Her arrogance was starting to get on my nerves.
Her bodyguards seemed to sense my shift in mood, for their hands drifted toward their nearest weapons. “D’Angelo is the same age as you. Hardly a brat.”
“Well, he acts like one.” She still hadn’t risen from the desk, and her unconcerned attitude was starting to make the other people in the room twitchy. Tension was growing with every word we exchanged, and something was going to snap soon.
I shifted so Deacon was positioned a little more behind me.
Caprice’s gaze zeroed in on the gesture.
“You know. I’m surprised you came in person. All I did was kill a civilian who happened to be employed by your new company. That shouldn’t be worth your personal time.” She nodded toward Deacon. “Are you showing off for your new pet or is there another reason you brought him along?”
She was right. Such a minor infraction against me usually wouldn’t be worth my time. The only reason it mattered so much to me was because it mattered so much to Deacon. I was giving too much information about our relationship away simply by being here.
Why had I brought Deacon with me?
Confronting Caprice on my own was already unnecessary. Bringing Deacon along just because he demanded it was borderline insanity.
The only reason I could come up with is that I was curious. He wanted to get revenge for his friend with his own hands, and claimed he was fine with my real identity. I wasn’t used to people not being afraid of me. Even Caprice’s attitude at that very moment was more show than truth. She was putting on a brave face, but Deacon didn’t need to be brave at all, because he wasn’t afraid of me in the first place.
It was a novel experience, and as much as I enjoyed it, I also didn’t trust it.
In that moment, as I contemplated Caprice’s words, I realized that this was a test. I hadn’t even realized that’s what I was doing, but I was testing Deacon to see what he was really made of. Most civilians couldn’t handle being exposed to the criminal world.
I needed to know if he was different. If he had what it took to stand by me, or if he would end up becoming just another in a long line of casual flings.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when the hitman started laughing.
“I never thought I’d see the day. The Wolf is getting led around on a leash by a pup. If anyone here is losing their touch, it’s you. A year ago, I never would have been able to get the upper hand on you so easily. The Wolf really has lost control of his pack.”
I wanted to demand that the man explain himself, but before I could, Deacon suddenly stepped forward. He had fire in his eyes and looked like he wanted to throttle the man with his bare hands, but I held him back before he could get close.
That didn’t stop Deacon from running his mouth.
“You’re the one who poisoned that cloth. You fucker. Nathan, let me go. I’m gonna kill him.”
With one hand around Deacon’s waist, I pulled him back to the far side of the room and shoved him out the door where he would be mostly out of the way.
Caprice watched the interaction with keen interest.
“How unusual. You actually let him call you by your first name. Not many are granted that privilege. Is there something special about him I’m not seeing?” With a flick of her wrist, she commanded her bodyguards. “Bring him to me. I want to get a better look at him.”
The two-armed women advanced, intent on capturing Deacon.
Were they disregarding me because of my age?
Sure, I was older than them, but I was still just as lethal as I’d ever been.
It was then that I realized my preference for secrecy had circled back around to bite me. I’d overestimated Caprice even more than I thought. She not only didn’t know my true name or my position as the true leader of the Chechen Mafia, but she also didn’t even know my fake position. Most people within the criminal world were still aware that I was someone of importance, just not how important. Caprice didn’t even know that much. To her, I was just a subordinate with a bit of power. Whenever she called me The Wolf , she wasn’t just being snarky. She was laughing at me. From her perspective, an underling with such a grandiose moniker must seem like a joke.
She was going to regret that assumption.
Deacon still stood outside the door, clutching onto the doorframe with his attention still hyper-focused on Caprice’s hitman. He didn’t even seem to notice the two bodyguards stalking toward him.
I always tailored my suits specifically to fit well, but also allow ease of movement. It came in handy when I had to move quickly. Dropping down into a low crouch, I swept the legs out from under the nearest bodyguard, while pulling my gun from its holster at the same time. When I was younger, such a move would have been easy, but now my knees protested the sudden strain. It wasn’t enough to throw off my balance, I didn’t even stumble, but it was a reminder of the passage of time.
Someday, I wouldn’t be able to fight my own fights, but today was not that day.
The bodyguard that I’d tripped rolled with her fall and quickly regained her footing, but it was just enough time for me to get a shot off at the second bodyguard. The one I shot clutched her shoulder, wounded but not dead. Before she could recover, I kicked the gun out of her hand, then dodged as the first bodyguard finally found enough balance to try and shoot me.
A bullet lodged in the wall not far from my head.
If I let myself get caught between the two of them, I’d have a difficult fight on my hands. My own gun could only fire one bullet at a time. No matter which one I shot, the other would still be able to take me out.
Who should I shoot?
Making my decision, I turned abruptly and shot Caprice. The bullet struck her low in the gut. It wasn’t an immediately fatal wound, but it could take her life if she didn’t get medical treatment soon.
The surprise of hearing their leader suddenly cry out in pain distracted the bodyguards just long enough for me to shoot the nearest one in the head, then turn my gun on the remaining one.
We stared each other down. Eye to eye and gun to gun. A single pull of the trigger would end it all.
“Stand down,” an unexpected voice suddenly shouted.
Not daring to look away from the bodyguard still aiming their gun at me, I turned just enough to see what was going on with my peripheral vision.
Caprice’s hitman stood with his arm around Deacon’s throat, and a gun at Deacon’s head.
“Put your gun down, Sterling. Or I’ll blow a hole through your little pet’s head.”
Deacon clawed at the man’s arm, his nails leaving behind bright streaks of crimson. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell there was a whole dictionary of curses locked behind his teeth.
Panic burned the back of my throat, but I swallowed it before it could show on my face.
“Do you take me for a fool? If I put my gun down and you’ll just shoot us both.” I grinned at him, letting my lip pull up into an expression that resembled a snarl and had helped earn my moniker. “You, however, are apparently a fool. You’ve forgotten who has the upper hand here.”
A knife came flying through the air and lodged into the hitman’s arm. Clutching his new wound, he was forced to drop Deacon, who immediately ran to my side.
I passed a nod of acknowledgement to the member of my own security who was standing in the door, thanking them for their assistance. My security hadn’t followed me into the office, but they were still present in the building. Caprice and her people had either forgotten that little fact, or then been arrogant enough to think their own security could go toe-to-toe with mine.
In the confusion, Caprice’s bodyguard grabbed her and helped her make an escape through the window. The fire escape hadn’t been meant to save people from gunfire, but it still served the same purpose. The pair would live for another day.
That was fine. I hadn’t truly wanted to kill Caprice anyway. I would avoid a war between our families if I could. My true target was still here, kneeling injured on the ground as his blood dripped onto the floor.
My security advanced on the injured hitman, ready to kill the man, but I ordered them to halt. Everyone in the room looked at me with confusion, but I merely turned to Deacon.
“You said you wanted to get revenge with your own hands. Well, now’s your chance.”
I nodded toward the gun on the floor that the hitman had dropped.
It took a moment for Deacon to realize what I meant, but when he did, an oddly blank look came over his face. He knelt and picked up the gun with trembling hands, turning it over and over to examine it.
His hands had a unique mix of softness and strength. He had the long, graceful fingers of an artist, but they were also calloused from plenty of hard work and outdoor activity. The gun was a particularly large caliber for a handgun and was unwieldy, but it didn’t look as out of place in his hands as I expected.
A moment of silence passed. No one spoke.
Then, without a hint of warning, Deacon aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.
The pop of the gunshot echoed out of the room and down the hall. The hitman stood there, stunned, as blood dripped from the new hole in his head.
Then the man collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.
Deacon stared down at the gun in his hand, trembling from head toe. It was as I feared. The reality of the situation had finally hit him, and it had hit him hard.
“Deke?” I said as I approached, though I had no idea what to say after that. I’d barely been a teenager the first time I’d killed someone, and after so many years I barely remembered what had been going through my head at the time. I had no idea what Deacon was thinking right now.
“Sir,” my security team spoke up. “We need to leave. Authorities are going to be here soon.”
Grabbing Deacon by the wrist, I dragged him out of the room and into the car waiting for us in the back alley. Although he still didn’t show any reaction, he also allowed himself to be easily led around.
Once inside the car, behind the safety of tinted windows, I pulled the gun out of Deacon’s hand and stored it away.
“Deke. It’s okay. It was self-defense. He definitely would have killed you. I... didn’t think you’d actually do it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”
I’d only meant to give him a scare. Make him realize what he was asking for. I expected him to drop the gun the moment he felt its weight in his hands.
No, that was a lie. I’d challenged him because I was secretly hoping he’d pull the trigger. I wanted him to prove he had the strength to stand next to me.
And he had.
But was that success worth it?
His hands had stopped shaking, but he was still staring at them with a strange expression.
“I killed him. He poisoned Kiki, and I killed him.”
He looked up at me, and I could finally see the light dancing in his eyes. Before I could question it, he grabbed my lapel and pulled me in for a kiss. His mouth molded to mine, hungrily trying to devour me whole. The unexpected passion left me speechless, and I didn’t even kiss him back at first.
My lack of reaction only seemed to embolden Deacon. He climbed into my lap, heedless of the car’s movement, and gripped my head with both hands to deepen the kiss even more.
Nothing could have convinced me to resist such a temptation. I slid my hands under his shirt and around his waist, holding him tightly to me and enjoying the feel of smooth, unblemished skin.
We were both panting when we finally parted.
“Deke?” I started to ask, but he cut me off.
“Shut up.” He kissed me again, this time rutting against me so I could clearly feel his arousal even through the fabric of both our pants.
With him so eager in my arms, I was quickly matching his enthusiasm, but I held back and pushed him away just enough to speak freely.
“Deke. We need to talk. This isn’t... how I expected you to react.”
Every muscle in his body was tense. For a moment, it looked like he might try to fight me, but then he suddenly slumped forward and buried his face against the crook of my neck.
“I know it’s not normal, but I just...”
He started trembling in my arms again, but I couldn’t tell if it was arousal or fear. Maybe it was both.
“I was just so angry after what happened to Kiki. And then, on the way here, I just felt so agitated. When I... When I pulled that trigger, it was thrilling. I made the bad guy go away with just the twitch of my finger. Thrilling, but also terrifying. And a relief. That guy hurt Kiki. Now, he isn’t a threat anymore.”
Pulling away from his hiding place against my neck, he met my gaze, and I could see all the different emotions swimming in his eyes.
His voice took on a breathy tone, similar to the way he sounded when he was squirming in pleasure under my hands.
“And then there was you. God! The way you just took everyone out. They weren’t even a threat to you. I don’t know. It was just...”
He ran his mouth over the line of my jaw until he was whispering directly into my ear.
“It was really hot.”
The tickle of his breath against the shell of my ear sparked desire in my veins. Maybe this was just an unhealthy reaction to the trauma of the last few days, but I didn’t care. If that turned out to be the case, I would deal with it later.
A man could only be so noble when offered his desires on a silver platter.
Knocking on the window that separated us from the front of the car, I ordered the driver to take us to the nearest luxury hotel. It was New York City. There was a hotel on practically every street corner, so we didn’t have to travel far. I barely had time to kiss Deacon again before the car came to a stop.
Luckily, since it was an odd time of day, the hotel lobby wasn’t too busy. Renting a room only took a few minutes, but every second that passed where Deacon’s skin wasn’t pressed against mine felt like a small eternity.
He clung to my arm the whole time, tracing nonsensical patterns over my shoulder and chest.
At one point, when the receptionist looked away from us to focus on her computer screen, Deacon angled his hips, so the back of my hand brushed against his groin. I could feel how hard he was, and I nearly mounted him down right there on the front desk.
Everyone in the lobby knew why we were there anyway. There was only one explanation for an older man leading a younger man into a hotel, with no reservations and no luggage. Our intentions were no secret.
After an excruciatingly long wait—five whole minutes—we finally had a key to a hotel room on the top floor. This time it was Deacon who dragged me along into the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, I pushed him up against the mirrored wall and kissed him hard enough to bruise both our lips.
At some point on our journey to the top floor, other people may have tried to get on the elevator. I vaguely remembered the doors opening more than once, but no one invaded our space and we were left alone on the elevator.
When the numbers over the door announced our floor, we parted just long enough to make our way to our room. The journey from the room’s front door to the bed ended up taking nearly twenty minutes, as I kept giving in to the temptation to press Deacon against every flat surface I could find as he tugged at my clothes.
We were both wearing only our pants by the time we made it to the bed. I pressed him down on the mattress, biting and sucking at the skin of his neck. His fingers dug bruises into my shoulders as he moaned, and one of his legs wrapped around my waist.
His arousal rubbed against my own, and I didn’t think twice as I slipped my hand down inside his pants to grab his ass. When I did, however, he suddenly went stiff in my arms in a way that obviously wasn’t from pleasure.
I removed my hand and pulled my lips away from his neck, but he was already pulling at my shoulders, trying to drag me closer again.
“No, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. It’s fine. Keep going.”
Looking down at him, I could see the instinctual fear in his eyes. He was more afraid now than when he’d watched me kill several people less than an hour ago.
“I’m not going to do anything you won’t enjoy.”
He clung to me harder. “If it’s you, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Please, Nathan. Don’t leave. I need you.”
“I’m not leaving,” I was quick to assure him. “However... I think I have an idea.”
Standing from the bed, he immediately started protesting, but I shushed him and again repeated that I wasn’t leaving. Then I searched for my jacket, which had been left on the floor by the front door.
Returning to the bedroom, I pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the jacket’s pocket and held them up for him to see.
Still sprawled half naked over the bed, with his breath coming heavy and an attractive blush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, Deacon frowned at me.
“Why do you have handcuffs in your pocket?”
With a shrug, I tossed my jacket aside. “For emergencies.”
Handcuffs in hand, I approached the bed.
“Do you trust me?”