2. Luca
CHAPTER 2
LUCA
I scrubbed my hands across my face when the words on the screen started to blur together. No one told you how much fucking paperwork was involved in running your own business, even one like mine.
All these years and I still hated this side of things, but it wasn’t like there was anyone else I could get to do it. Maverick had listed no paperwork as one of his conditions before taking the position, and Skye would probably set the entire office on fire before attempting to sort through all this bullshit.
If my best friend, Wesley, ever took me up on my offer and chose to work for me, then maybe I’d have someone to split this with. But since he was being a stubborn asshole, it fell to me.
I stood up from my desk to stretch, wincing when my back cracked unreasonably loudly. It was moments like this I remembered I’d hit the dreaded 4-0 over two years ago and was creeping closer and closer to 45 every fucking day.
“Okay, I need to get the fuck out of here.” Maybe Skye would be up for a sparring session. He had trained one of Wes’s newly found kids, Beckett, this morning, but he was usually more than ready to go again. Especially if he had a chance to kick my ass.
I didn’t even make it around my desk before there was a sharp knock and the door opened, revealing Maverick. He must’ve just come from his own workout session since he was wearing basketball shorts that barely covered his massive tree-trunk thighs. His gray, cutoff T-shirt was wet with sweat and showed off every one of his muscles. I licked my lips and met Mav’s gray-blue eyes.
He smirked at me. But unfortunately, any thoughts of a teenage make-out session or finding Skye and having some more R rated fun was immediately squashed when Mav started to speak.
“Someone just crossed into our property. Kid, early twenties. Riding a Kawasaki Ninja. He stopped just before the security system triggered, like he knew where it started, and seems to be waiting for us right outside the gate.”
I frowned. That was . . . unusual. While the location of the house itself, really more of a mansion, was common knowledge—it had been in the Castellano family for generations—it wasn’t at all connected with Il Fortunato and my business. I’d made damn sure of that. We even had an office in the city to conduct formal business out of. No one came here. And anyone who was associated with the Castellanos wouldn’t know exactly where to stop before the silent alarm was triggered that brought my private security raining down on them.
I walked back to my desk to pull up the security feed, Maverick following me.
“Do you know who it is?”
Maverick shrugged. “Haven’t looked at the feed yet. Just going by what Leo said.” Leo was the head of the private security company that I employed to protect this place.
My fingers froze on the keyboard as soon as I pulled the feed up, haunting me with a face I’d never expected to see in person again. Brooks Foster leaned casually against his bike, while he looked directly at the security camera on the gate, a lollipop stick poking out between his lips.
For all the world, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, but I knew better. His eyes kept darting from the camera to around him without ever really stopping, and he chewed on his lip ring and fiddled with the bracelets he always wore. Brooks was nervous.
“Holy fuck, is that Brooks?” Maverick whispered from behind me.
Mav didn’t know all the details of what had happened that day, but he knew enough. I’d broken the boy’s heart and spent the next three years avoiding him . . . and using Skye as my surrogate stalker to keep an eye on him and his adopted brother.
I nodded, my throat dry. “Let him in. Whatever brought him here has to be important.”
Mav squeezed my shoulder. “You good, boss?”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Just peachy. Let’s get this over with.”
Maverick radioed over to open the gate. I watched on the cameras as Brooks saluted before climbing back on his bike and driving through.
“Find Skye. We’ll meet in the conference room.”
“Got it.” Mav left without another word, his 6’5” frame nearly taking up the entire doorway. Once he was out of my sight, I gave myself exactly five seconds to steel myself against all my emotions. I had good reasons for walking away from Brooks, and I stood by those. I also knew one glance into those dark blue eyes and all those very valid reasons would be wiped clean from my memory.
Brooks Foster was my one weakness, which was why I’d essentially erased him from my life. I’d barely survived walking away the first time, and I had no idea how I’d manage it again.
I made it to the conference room before anyone else, so I took the time to start the fancy coffee maker that Maverick had insisted on. I probably didn’t need another coffee, but it gave me something to do. My mind was racing as it went through every scenario that would lead Brooks to my doorstep.
After that night, I’d half expected him to show up or try to follow me. Brooks had always been a little unpredictable, and I’d hurt him badly. He never had though. He’d deleted me from all his social media, not that it had prevented me from seeing him, blocked my phone number, and was always conveniently busy whenever I saw his parents. It had to be desperation that had brought him here, and my first worry was about his father, Dave.
Dave had been sick for a while now, which was why he and his wife, Emma, had retired from the game and left their legacy to their adopted sons. If something had happened to him, would Brooks come to me for help? I wasn’t sure. It would be a last resort, that much I knew.
The door to the conference room opened and Skye sauntered in. He was freshly showered, wearing well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt with the words Sounds Gay, I’m In written in rainbow print across the chest. His light brown hair was pulled back in a bun, with some wet, loose strands framing his face. He might have been almost thirty, but something about the way his honey brown eyes always glowed with mischief made him seem younger, and only his crooked nose and the faded scar across his cheek gave weight to his true age and the shit he’d seen.
“Hey, boss. Heard my favorite stalking target is here for a visit.” He walked straight to the coffee machine on his bare feet, hips swinging enough that my eyes dragged down to his ass and the way those jeans hugged him in all the right places.
“You don’t stalk him,” I muttered unconvincingly. “I only wanted you to check in on him sometimes.” Like when he took dangerous jobs or insisted on going to the shadiest clubs in the city.
Skye hummed in agreement. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have time to come up with a comeback before the door opened again and Maverick walked in with Brooks behind him.
Our eyes met and it was like time fucking froze. Last time I’d seen those dark blue eyes, they’d been filled with betrayal and heartbreak. It was a look that haunted me for the last three years. Now, he glared at me with such hatred, and I welcomed it. It was better than the alternative.
“Brooks,” I greeted, impressed with how neutral I kept my tone. I should be the one in control here. I was almost twenty years older, for fuck’s sake. Yet, there was something about the boy that always left me a little uncentered.
Brooks stood in the doorway. I could see how his shoulders shook even as he tried to hide it. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to reach out to him and fix whatever was upsetting him. That it was possibly me that had him bouncing on the balls of his feet in his worn Chucks and clenching his fists was not lost on me. I just hoped . . . it wasn’t. Which, fuck, made me sound like such an asshole. My head was a mess, and I was suddenly questioning every decision I’d made in the last three years, which was a position I did not like to be in.
I took the moment of his uncertainty to take him in. He’d filled out some since his twenty-first birthday, though he’d probably always be slim. I could see some new tattoos on his neck peeking out from the black hoodie he was wearing, a band I’d never heard of on it. He had pushed down his hood, giving me a good glimpse of his dark brown hair that was now bleached on the top and fell in untamed waves. His lip was still pierced, but he’d added a hoop to his nose. He still looked young—he was only 24—but somehow more mature than he had before. Like he’d seen some shit and it had shaped him.
Fuck, he looked good.
Brooks chewed on his lip ring, and I wanted to call him out on it so badly, but I refrained. I’d lost the right to do that a long time ago.
Finally, he shook his head, breaking whatever fog was holding him captive, and straightened his shoulders. He walked right into the room and met each of our eyes.
Skye was still by the coffee maker. He leaned against the counter, sipping his cappuccino from the biggest fucking mug I’d ever seen. He grinned at Brooks over the rim.
“Want a coffee?”
Brooks’s jaw flexed and he shook his head. “Nah, I’m good, man. Thanks.” He turned his attention fully to me.
“We need to talk.”
A sarcastic answer was right on the tip of my tongue. It was pretty obvious since he’d shown up at my home like this. But Brooks was a flight risk, and I did not want him fleeing before I knew what was going on.
I tipped my head in acknowledgement. “About what?”
Brooks took a deep breath. “You heard about Marshall Fieldsburg?”
The question threw me for a loop. It was the last thing I’d expected. “The billionaire?” I asked dumbly, like there was another one. Brooks stared at me blankly.
Luckily, Maverick had an intelligent answer for him, “Yeah, it’s all over the news. He was murdered in a gang style execution in his office last night.”
I was . . . not following. Just mentioning the murder had Brooks flinching and a haunted look covering his face. As far as I knew, Brooks and his family had no connection to the guy whatsoever, so why would he react like that?
“Fuck, was it you?” As soon as I said the words, I regretted it. Especially with the way Brooks blanched and stuttered back a few steps. I was glad Maverick had discreetly moved between him and the door.
Brooks was wild and made his living illegally, but he was sweetness personified. He didn’t have it in him to murder anyone, especially in a cold-blooded way like that. The only exception would be to protect his family, but this hit wasn’t that.
“Trouble.” The nickname I used to call him before I’d ruined everything slipped from my lips. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”
Immediately, Brooks’ expression shuttered. He completely and totally shut down. “Don’t. Just—don’t call me that.”
“Right. I misstepped. I apologize.”
He turned his back on me, ignoring me completely, and focused his attention on Maverick and Skye. I thought I did a decent job not letting it show how much that hurt.
“No,” he snapped, voice colder than I thought it was possible for him, “I didn’t fucking kill him. But—” He took a deep, shuddery breath, some of the typical, more vulnerable Brooks coming through. “I did do a job for him. Last night. And I-I found the body.” His shoulders slumped and he wrapped his arms around himself.
Fuck, my poor boy. I took an involuntary step to him before I stopped. It would not be welcomed and was a great way to get an elbow to the balls.
Thankfully, Skye took over and walked up to Brooks, shoulder bumping him. “I’m sorry, bro. That had to be rough.”
Brooks shrugged, which wasn’t remotely believable, before fishing something out of the pocket of his black joggers. He held it in his fingertips like he was afraid to get a good grasp on it. A flash drive.
“I’m assuming this room and everyone in it is secure?” he asked us.
“Yes, of course,” Mav answered. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something. It was better for them to handle it, but I didn’t like being ignored in my own damn conference room.
“This is what I stole for him. I broke into Lewis Covington III’s main home, downloaded some encrypted files off his computer, and went straight back to Marshall’s office. I thought it was proof of embezzlement or something. Corporate espionage shit.”
I nodded in understanding. We didn’t take jobs like that, but they were usually quick and easy moneymakers in our line of business, especially for newer teams still trying to make a name for themselves, like Brooks and Diego.
“I just—” He paused and scratched the back of his neck. The sleeve of his hoodie pulled up, exposing at least fifteen bracelets and his tattoo-covered hands and arms. “It just felt off from the beginning, you know? I usually drop the stuff in one of my safe locations, but he insisted I bring it to him immediately. That felt wrong, but the pay was too fucking good so I took it. The job went okay, but when I got to his office, I found . . .” He stopped speaking, but we didn’t need details.
I glanced at Maverick, whose expression was grim. His gray eyes were calculating, and I knew he was already expecting the worst. No matter what was on that flash drive, Brooks’s life was in danger. You didn’t get in the middle of something like that without becoming collateral damage.
“Did you see what was on it?” I asked softly, hoping not to set him off.
Brooks’ jaw ticked, but he answered, “No. We didn’t know what to do with it. We spent the whole fucking night expecting to get raided either by SWAT or whoever killed Fieldburg. When nothing happened, I secured the thing and came right here.” Brooks finally turned to me, looking all kinds of lost, and it broke my heart.
“Trust me when I say if I had any other option, I would’ve taken it, but D didn’t think it would be smart to go to the cops, and we’re not getting our parents involved. We’re in way over our heads, and I’m fucking terrified. I could’ve put Diego in serious danger just because I got hypnotized by the dollar signs.”
I frowned. Were they that tight on money? Emma had mentioned that they helped out with medical bills, but I’d be the first to admit I had no idea how much that cost. I wanted to ask, but one glance at Maverick had me holding my tongue. That was not the fucking point right now.
I tried to process my thoughts. Brooks had swallowed his pride and come to me because he’d felt it was the only place he could go. I wouldn’t betray that or try to undermine the terror he had to be feeling.
I met his eyes. “We’ll help, of course. Can we see the flash drive? I think we need to start there.”