Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
S AINT
I can feel Emerald’s eyes on me as Christian and I walk over to one of the back tables to talk. And I can’t help thinking about the way she smiled at me for just a moment as she spoke—and the way her smile felt like sunshine. Warm , radiant , soothing .
I shake my head. I don’t need goddamn sunshine in my life. What the hell has gotten into me?
As I walk, I catch sight of Nicki Veneti and pause to give her a hug. Nicki is Christian’s cousin, and his family takes care of her. Nicki’s mom died when she was young, and then her dad and brother were killed by the cartel. Christian’s family saw taking her in as a debt of honor because her dad and brother died protecting his papà.
“Hey, Nicki.” A smile tilts up my lips as I give her a kiss on the cheek.
She beams up at me. “Hey, you!”
“You’re looking well. Long time, no see.”
“I know,” she replies. “I’ve been meaning to get down to Philadelphia to see my grandparents. Hopefully, I’ll get to visit them next month.”
“Everything good with you?”
She nods. “Yeah, all good, thanks. How about you? I can’t remember the last time I saw you in New York. Are you here for long?”
“Not sure.” I’m evasive with my answer. “Depends on how long my work takes to wrap up.” Then I tell her that I’ll take her out for lunch and a catch up while I’m here in New York, and after she waves me bye, I walk on toward the back tables.
As I walk, I type in the website I caught Emerald looking at on her phone. It’s called Chessgenius.com. And I can’t help the smirk that dances on my lips. Just what is Emerald Fiorelli up to?
She thought she hid what she was doing, but I was too quick for her. And it’s cute that she’s so secretive and defensive. Yeah, cute—but her actions only made me more curious.
My thumb taps across my screen as I sign up. Once that tedious business is out of the way, I type in the name I saw her using. Envy Eyes. A smile of satisfaction lights my face as I bookmark the tab. I might be able to find out more about what kind of player she is. It’s something that’s been on my mind since watching her play against the old guy in the park.
But my snooping will have to wait. Unfortunately. I shove my phone back into my pocket as I draw closer to the far booth where Christian has taken a seat. His face is a mask of neutrality while his fingers drum against the polished wooden top of the table. He’d look more intimidating if I didn’t have the distinct pleasure of knowing he was once scared of the dark. After my family died, I spent a lot of time with Christian and his family until I moved to Philly to live with my uncle there. And that bond formed at such a young age has given us the deepest trust with one another.
“Something funny?” he clips.
“Not allowed to smile at my favorite cousin now?” I ask with mock indignation as I slide into the booth opposite him.
His fingers drum slower.
I narrow my eyes. We’ve talked a few times since I arrived in New York, and he messaged me an hour ago, telling me to meet him here. “Your message was a little vague,” I prompt. Nobody is seated near us, and Christian’s soldiers will make sure to keep it that way while he’s conducting business.
He sighs and drags a hand down his face, the mask of Capo slipping slightly. “Shit’s fucked.”
I huff out a laugh. “Mildly put. Got more than that? Names? Any more leads?”
“Everyone we’ve looked into has come back clean. I’ve got names but...” His hand curls around his glass of whiskey, and he lets out another terse sigh. “No more leads so far. That’s why I’m handing it over to you now.”
“You’ve got nothing more?”
“There’s a lot of people who it could be.” He narrows his gaze on me like I’m challenging his method of handling it. “A fucking lot of them have agendas and are fucking vipers. You know that.”
I raise my hands. “I wasn’t criticizing.”
Christian nods and swills the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ll get you a list of who’s left to look into, and you’ll handle it from here. You’re in charge of this, Saint. You handle it however the hell you see fit.”
“Is it just the casino? No skimming off other revenues? The guns or whatever other pies you got your fingers in?”
“Just the casino from what I can see so far. But we need to check everything else with a fine-tooth comb, especially as it’s been a few months now too.”
I look at him carefully. “I can see the money’s an issue, but what else is going on, Christian?” I know him well enough to know there’s something else. Because although he’s been worked up about this situation each time we’ve spoken about it, it feels like there’s more going on today.
He drags a hand down his face. “There’s a rumor flying around that the Croatians are setting up a new trafficking ring to bring girls into the U.S.”
“So? We already knew they’re into that sort of shit.” While we don’t traffic people, the Croatians are well known for it.
“The rumor includes that an Italian is involved in it—investing in it and being a partner in the scheme. But someone would need a lot of money to buy into a scheme like that. And I’ve got a bad feeling that the missing money might be something to do with that.”
My mind starts ticking. “And if the Italian involved is one of our guys, then the Feds might trace the money back to the Imperiosi. And that would fucking implicate us in the human trafficking.”
Christian nods with a grim expression.
“Fucking Christ,” I mutter. This is worse than I thought. “I’ll get on it right away.”
Christian fills me in on a few more details. While he talks, my eyes flick across the casino to where Emerald leans against the bar again, tapping away on her phone.
And as I study the captivating girl in the gold dress, Christian’s fingers snap in front of my face, and I glare as my eyes swing to him. “What?”
“Got something better to be doing or can I have your attention?”
“You’ve had my attention. I was listening.”
Christian snorts. The downside of growing up alongside the man for a good part of your childhood is they know all your tells. My eyes focus on him as he leans forward to see just exactly who’s captured my attention. His brow arches. “Emerald?”
I give a noncommittal shrug. “I was just chatting to her while I got my drink. What’s her deal anyway?”
Christian settles back in the booth and shakes his head. “She’s not a bad kid. Ronnie seems to treat her well enough, or at least, I hope he does. She’s got problems though.”
“Problems?”
“Family stuff. Anyway, why are you even interested? I already told you, Emerald is best friends with my niece and practically family.”
“So?”
“So, that means she’s fucking off limits, understood?” He fixes a laser stare on me when I don’t respond. “Plus, there’s her condition .”
“What condition?”
“You must have heard…”
“In case it’s escaped your attention, Christian, I haven’t exactly been around lately. And even when I’m here, I’m not one to listen to idle gossip. So, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You know, the Little Miss Light Fingers thing.”
“The what?”
“The stealing,” he says.
I arch an eyebrow in question.
He sighs. “She has a thing about shoplifting stuff.”
I remember the photo of those dresses with security tags in her closet, but I wonder if it’s more than that. “What sort of stuff exactly?”
“Girly stuff and that sort of shit.”
For a moment, I wonder if he’s totally serious, and then I burst out laughing.
“Glad you think it’s fucking amusing, Saint. But we don’t need any extra attention from the cops.”
I finally manage to stop my laughter. “We’re into drug running, money laundering, and murder, and you’re worried about some girl stealing a few pink bows to put in her hair?” I shake my head as I start chuckling again.
“Saint, I’m being fucking serious. She’s a serial shoplifter.”
I can’t help a snort. “Just how serial is serial in this instance?” The question leaves my mouth before my brain can stop it.
“She’s been caught a few times, but no charges were pressed.”
I nod with a hum, rubbing my hand across my jaw.
He takes another sip of his drink. “She’s a hard worker. She lives in an apartment with her mother and three siblings. Her mother has a lot of issues, so Emerald basically has to be a mom to those kids.”
I can already sense that despite the cute smile, Emerald Fiorelli is a complex person. She’s gold-plated dynamite. And I don’t do that. Doesn’t matter how gorgeous she is or how much she intrigues me. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. You know I don’t do relationships or feelings or shit like that.”
And I mean what I say. Trouble makes problems, and problems make distractions. Distractions get you dead in my line of work, and I’m not about to let any captivating green eyes, beautiful body, or smart mind change that. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am today. Cold. Calculating. Unfeeling .
I get the job done, and I don’t let emotions cloud my actions.
I avoid anything that has the potential to get messy. And from what Christian’s just told me, Emerald is the definition of messy. It’s better to just forget her and move on. Compartmentalize.
Job first. Women second. Emotions never.
The words repeat and repeat in my head.
All the more reason to focus back on why I’m sitting in this booth in the first place. I turn back to Christian with a shake of my head. “So, how do you want me to do this?”
Christian slides the intel folder across to me. “Read this. Then we can talk next steps.”
I smile down at the folder. This is my favorite part. Dissecting the targets. Lining up all the pieces to fall just where I need them. Just like a game of fucking chess.
* * *
After leaving the casino, I head home to Venetiville. The dogs need to be fed and let out. Venetiville is the gated community which is exclusively home to Imperiosi families, and my mansion there is the house left to me by my grandparents.
I scrub a hand across my jaw, rubbing at the stubble. It’s important I’m here. I know that.
Doesn’t mean I fucking like it.
There’s a reason I left this place behind in the first place. Being here is like chasing something you can’t have.
It feels like the ghosts that linger behind me are reaching out, getting closer and ready to steal the very air from my lungs with every second that skips by.
But Christian needs me here. So, here I stay.
The sooner we figure out who’s skimming off the casino and the Imperiosi, the fucking better. The fact that this is happening in the first place is bad enough. But that they’ve covered their tracks tells me it’s someone in the organization.
We just need to turn the pressure up and wait for the traitor to make a mistake and slip up. And when he does, I’ll be waiting with the perfect plan to put a bullet between his fucking eyes.
I pull into a gas station to fill up. But when I come to pay, I find my wallet missing.
For fuck’s sake.
I had it when I paid for my whiskey. It was in my jacket’s inside pocket. I grab my cell and ring the casino. The bar supervisor answers.
“It’s Saint here. Did anyone find my wallet at the casino?”
“As chance would have it, I’ve got it right here. Seems like you must have dropped it.”
Yeah, I’m never that careless. And the inside pocket of my jacket is always buttoned to prevent my wallet from falling out. After a moment’s silence, I ask my next question very carefully. “Who found it?”
“It was Emerald.”
And then I remember her crouching down next to my bar stool when she was cleaning up the petals. Emerald Fiorelli . I should have guessed. Not only does she like to lift dresses, but it seems like she’s also pretty light-fingered when it comes to wallets…
I head straight back to the casino to retrieve what’s mine.
As soon as the supervisor hands it over, I flip it open and scan the contents. Cash, cards—untouched. But my driver’s license is in the wrong pocket. My jaw tightens. Why would she…?
Then it clicks. And I figure out what she was up to.
She wasn’t after money. She wanted information. She wanted to know my name.
I want to scowl.
But a slow grin tugs at my lips.
Because the realization dawns that Emerald Fiorelli is one smart girl. And for some reason, I like that thought…