Chapter 11 #2
“I don’t care what her fucking name is. Who is she and what the hell has she done to you?
Because the Gio Moretti I know is Mr. Diplomacy.
We just got the FBI off our back and settled all the problems Aidan caused.
So, what? Now it’s your turn to play the hot head?
The current stability in New Orleans is only possible because of your ability to remain calm and sensible.
And now, you’re going off the rails, which means everything is in jeopardy—yet again—after we just got Ana back. ”
It’s then that Damon turns away from me and slams his fist into his palm.
My facial features soften as my frustration with him quells.
I knew Ana would still be healing, but it’s clear he’s still struggling too.
He’d have more sympathy if he knew how close Darcy was to suffering the same fate as Ana.
Turning back to me, with tears in his eyes, he says, “All fucking night I was getting texts from the guys at The Compound about your rampage and the curvy blonde chick. I couldn’t even sleep. What the fuck is happening, Gio?”
I drop my head and sink my shoulders. It’s disheartening that the one time I act out of character, the one time I’m impulsive and do something for myself—want something for myself—this is the reaction, or perhaps reality.
Damon isn’t wrong. The state of our world is still fragile.
Before leaving New Orleans, giving up his throne and the threats that come with being king—at least, he hopes—Alister orchestrated a peaceful transition of power to the Irish mob.
Aidan, Ana’s brother, is the new king of the criminal underworld here in New Orleans and, needless to say, the transition wasn’t as smooth as we’d hoped.
He quickly made enemies, which led to Ana’s abduction.
Just weeks ago, we were on the brink of an all-out war.
Remembering this makes me consider the truth in Damon’s biting words.
Maybe I was irresponsible. Maybe I took this whole thing too far.
But I couldn’t have planned for Darcy to walk into that bar yesterday or how I would feel after being in her presence mere minutes, which was only amplified as I felt her slipping away.
And, regardless of my feelings, I would never leave a woman to be raped and murdered.
So, truly, only one body was the victim of my passion.
And, with the guys from The Compound cleaning up after me, there’ll be no evidence linking me to any of their murders.
Actually, there won’t even be any bodies left to find.
Still, I understand Damon’s worry, which is why I hold in the truth of who Darcy is to me and instead offer him a much simpler explanation.
“She’s my maid. It’s a long story, but she’d been staying at the shelter out in the Marigny. She needed to return there to get her few belongings. Before I arrived to pick her up, she and Delilah had been taken. I got there just in time before they— Well, I’m sure you can imagine.”
Damon nods. Lowering his gaze to the floor, he wipes the remnants of his tears from his face.
“But I’d rather not.” I nod in agreement and finally take my seat on the sofa.
The sunlight pouring in from the windows behind me warms my back.
Somehow, it’s soothing despite the sweltering heat waiting for us outside.
“And the bartender?” He asks then, sitting in the chair opposite me.
I lean back and cross one leg over the other, resting my heel atop my knee. “Like I said, it’s a long story.”
“Mhmm. Well, you know the last time I had an indefinite counterpart, I ended up with a fiancé and that annoying ass dog. You’re already one step ahead with a damn near daughter living under your roof.”
“One, don’t pretend you don’t love Brinkley. Two, don’t compare Delilah to a dog. And three…” I shake my head and smile. “I’ve always been a daddy.”
Damon bursts out laughing. “Get the fuck out of here with that shit! Who are you? I don’t think you’ve ever cracked a joke in your life until now.”
“Yeah, I could ask you the same question. I think Ana’s talkative nature has rubbed off on you. I couldn’t get a word in back there.”
Damon nods. “Yeah, lots of Ana has rubbed off on me.” I shake my head, knowing that he can make the joke, but I can’t entertain it out of respect. “But before we get too far off track, that long story of yours has a short ending.”
“What do you mean?”
Damon’s flat expression lets me know it’s all business now. “One of the men on that bus was identified as part of the cartel.”
I uncross my legs and lean forward in my seat then. “The one with the gun,” I say. Damon nods.
My brows furrow as I consider what this means.
The Amatos have a long-standing alliance with the cartel in Mexico.
Being half Mexican, I’ve always been the one to keep our working relationship smooth, but it’s slipped my mind with everything else that’s been going on.
Now I understand Damon’s ire even more. Aidan and I came to an agreement that I would handle communication and conflicts with those formerly aligned with the Amatos, even though he’s technically the one in charge.
Serena Santos and the Mexican cartel fall under my purview, and it seems I owe her a visit.
Although, first, I want to know why her man, or men, is snooping around my city without proper clearance.