Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
GHOST
I didn’t dream of Alessio last night, but that’s probably only because I didn’t sleep.
I felt too raw; I still do. Like all my skin has been peeled away to expose my nerve endings.
Everything seems louder, brighter, every sensation more intense, and it’s all his fault.
I wish I could hate him for it, but he’s infected my mind the same way he claims I infected his.
Normally if I can’t sleep, I’ll find a Reaper to take it out on, and I did consider it.
I even got dressed and tucked my pistol and silencer into place.
But instead of following a familiar path towards the clubhouse or any of their other favorite middle-of-the-night haunts, I found myself outside of Alessio’s building again, climbing the fire escape.
His apartment was dark and he’d obviously gone to bed, but I stayed anyway, just sitting there, thinking about the look in his eyes when he first met my gaze through the mirror at Wonderland and the feeling of his mouth against mine.
I stayed until the sky started to get light, then I climbed down and waited in the alley for an hour or two until I saw him exit the building, wearing a suit and scowling.
I honestly thought it would be difficult to stalk a mafioso, that he’d be on alert for the feeling of being watched and followed. Maybe he needs to work on tuning in to those primal instincts, or maybe he was just too distracted today to notice me a few yards behind him everywhere he went.
I don’t know what the point of it is, why I’m creeping through the shadows in the parking lot of a strip club instead of just responding to any of the dozen texts he sent me today, or better yet, going home and trying to sleep.
But I can’t shake this craving to have my eyes on him, so here I am.
I slink around the corner of the building and wait, listening as he greets the bouncer.
I guess Alessio must be a regular here? I didn’t peg him for the type to haunt a strip club, but it’s not like I know a damn thing about him other than what he does for a living and the noises he makes when he comes.
I fish a butterscotch out of my pocket, unwrap it, and pop it into my mouth, waiting a full minute and a half after I hear the bouncer let him inside before I come around the building to approach the door.
The large man guarding the door looks me up and down with a suspicious frown for a few seconds before he grunts the cover charge at me and asks to see my ID.
“I don’t have any ID.” I reach into my other pocket to pull out my wallet.
I still have a little bit of the money I got selling Alessio’s gun left, but not much.
I’m going to have to get my head on straight and target another apartment soon or I won’t be able to cover my rent.
I flash him double the amount for cover charge.
He shrugs, takes the money, and waves me inside.
I’ve never been inside Wild, but I’ve heard about it.
I’m sure everyone in Wildcliff has. It has a similar vibe to Wonderland with the lights and the loud music, but there’s something that feels too manufactured to me about men up on various stages being paid to get naked as opposed to the raw, spontaneous sexuality at the other club.
It’s fine, I guess, if you’re dying to see a twink shake his bare ass.
Is that why Alessio is here? I grind my teeth and clench my fists at the sudden possessive surge that rushes through me. Was he lying when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me? Is he hot for any broken man desperate enough to do anything for money?
I weave through the club, scanning every table and the crowd around every stage looking for Alessio until my gaze finally lands on him.
I stop in my tracks and move off to one side, grabbing a chair at an empty table where I’ll be able to watch him without being noticed.
He’s not alone. I don’t recognize any of the men he’s with, obviously, but from their expensive suits and the way everyone is giving their table a wide berth, it’s clear that this is a business meeting.
Interesting place for it, but who am I to judge?
I can’t hear anything they’re talking about from here, and I’m sure that’s by design.
Their table is set just far enough back from any others that there’s no way anyone could casually sit close enough to eavesdrop.
That’s fine. I don’t mind playing the long game to figure out if the Morettis could be my allies.
If it means spending more time with Alessio, I suppose it’s a hardship I can live with.
ALESSIO
I’m barely paying any attention to the meeting.
Sounds like everything is same old, same old though.
Still no sign of Declan, Xav hasn’t made any headway with the identity of The Ghost and neither have I.
I don’t volunteer the fact that I’ve been a little bit distracted, but honestly, I don’t think my full attention would have changed much anyway.
Xav is a fucking machine; if he hasn’t gotten any leads, I doubt I will.
And then we move on to business, and that’s even less interesting to me tonight.
All I can think about is Spettro. I told him I didn’t want him to leave again and he did it anyway. Sure, he left his phone number this time, but what the fuck good is that if he’s leaving all of my messages on read?
While Salvatore drones on, I pull my phone out under the table and open the text thread just to double check that he hasn’t responded.
Nope, nothing. I scroll back through the messages I’ve sent him over the last twenty-four hours, starting with the one I sent immediately after I realized he was gone and found the note in my kitchen with his number on it.
ALESSIO: Are you fucking serious??
ALESSIO: Where the hell did you go, Spettro?
ALESSIO: I told you I’d hunt you down if you left again. Don’t test me…
Jesus, I sound fucking desperate. He told me not to play it cool though, so all my chill is out the damn window. I type out another quick message.
ALESSIO: Call me, text me, climb my damn fire escape and crawl in through the window. I don’t care, just let me know that I’m going to see you again.
Just like all the other messages, it shows as read almost immediately, but there’s no response.
“Are we keeping you from something important?” Enzo asks in a tone that manages to sound bored and admonishing at the same time.
I shove my phone back into my pocket and force a carefree smirk.
“Don’t say you were sexting any of our family members either. That joke is officially dead and buried,” Salvatore says.
“Wow, okay, didn’t know I was going to get a review on my stand-up routine, but that’s fair. I was actually writing an anonymous customer request for management to bring Dante back. There’s not nearly enough casual assault in here anymore.”
Salvatore snorts a laugh and Elio nods in agreement, taking a sip of his drink.
“It’s true. My pockets are too damn heavy now without losing those bets to you every week.”
“Feel free to just hand me that extra cash if the spirit moves you.” I smirk. “Or we could come up with another standing bet to make life interesting again.”
“Such as?” Elio leans in with interest.
“An over-under on how many times in a week Xaviaro almost smiles before he gets that icy, dead look in his eyes again?”
Lorenzo’s lips twitch in amusement at that suggestion, and Xav just gives me a flat, unamused look.
“How about an over-under on how many times in a week Lorenzo considers pulling a gun on you just to shut you up?” Sal deadpans, and Lorenzo full-on chuckles at that one before hiding his reaction behind a fake cough and a sip of his drink.
“Think about how dull these meetings would be without me. No comic relief or sexual innuendo at all, just raw numbers and updates about dead rival mob bosses.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I know I’ve fucked up.
Silence falls around the table, and I risk a look at Lorenzo.
His eyes aren’t just cold, they’re steely, unemotional in a way that’s new and unsettling.
I swallow hard but do my best not to look as nervous as I feel. I don’t think Lorenzo would kill me for a bad joke. Certainly not right in the middle of a crowded strip club. Right? Shit.
“He’s probably not—” I don’t manage to get it all out before Lorenzo stands up abruptly.
“I think we’re done here.” He smooths out his suit and fixes his tie, then gathers the rest of his stuff and leaves without another word.
No one else dares to breathe or speak until he’s gone, and then I feel all eyes on me.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Sal reaches over to pat my back reassuringly.
“He’s just in a mood. He’s so fucking weird about this Declan thing.”
I nod. “God, that was a bad joke. Someone needs to kick me under the table next time or put a fucking hand over my mouth before I say stupid shit like that.”
Elio laughs. “It would probably save us all time to just buy you a ball gag to wear at all times.” He swirls his drink, the ice cubes clinking in the glass. “Do you guys think…”
“Leave it alone,” Xav with that menacing air of finality I’ve never heard anyone else other than Lorenzo manage.
Elio shrugs. “I’m just saying, there’s always been a vibe between them, and he’s been pissy as hell since Declan disappeared.”
“I’m with Xav on this one,” Salvatore says, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Sticking our noses into the boss’s sex life is a good way to end up shot.”
“He’s my brother,” Elio points out.
“Then you go ask him if he’s been secretly deepthroating Fitzpatrick. Godspeed.”
Elio cringes. “Yeah, good point. I’m not touching that one.”
Xav gets up too, and he and Salvatore walk away, leaving me alone with Elio.
“I fucked up,” I mutter again, shaking my head.
“You’re fine. Lorenzo has a temper, but he’s not an asshole. It’s not like he’s going to kill you over one insensitive joke.” He downs the rest of his drink, then sets his glass down and studies me intensely for a few seconds. “You okay, Les? You seem off lately.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Elio can see right through me. We were always closer than Enzo and me, even when we were kids before all that shit went down.
“I’m good,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” he says immediately. “If you don’t want to talk about it though, I’m not going to pry.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder the same way Sal did. “Have a good night. Work on some better jokes.” He shoots me a wink, then takes off.
I huff a laugh, trying to ease some of the tension from my chest, and finally get to my feet too. Fuck, this day sucked. Maybe I should go back to Wonderland and see if Spettro is there again. He seemed like a regular, so there’s a decent chance.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m making my way out of Wild, and I walk right into some guy in my haste to check the message. He turns around to glare at me, but the irritation turns to fear as soon as he sets eyes on me.
“Problem?” I ask sarcastically, shooting him a grin. He shakes his head and hurries off while I turn my attention to my phone, unlocking the screen so I can check my messages.
SPETTRO: I like you needy, slut. Leave your window unlocked.
Maybe this day is finally turning around.