Chapter 4
Massimo
“Ithought we were going to be friends, Massimo. I welcomed you into my home, but now you’ve killed two of my men.
” Stefano Duarte cocks his head at me, his genial expression belying the dangerous flash of white-hot anger over his black eyes—keen and dangerous as a shark.
“I thought we were going to have a very profitable relationship.”
The back of my neck prickles with awareness of a threat, an ingrained response to mortal danger.
Duarte only has two silent, burly guards stationed in his lavish study where he’s arranged this meeting, but we’re in the heart of his criminal empire.
The opulence of the space only enhances his aura of power—from the crimson leather armchair he sits upon like a throne to the cut crystal glass of fine whiskey that dangles nonchalantly in his hand.
In contrast, my friends and I stand, awaiting his judgment.
His next words could sign our death warrants. Dozens of lethally armed killers are stationed throughout the high rise building that the drug lord owns. If we try to fight our way out, we won’t survive the attempt.
Enzo and Gian tense at my back, the brothers bracing for a fight. They’ll defend me with their lives, even though I recklessly put us in this dangerous position.
Everything we’ve ever wanted is within our grasp—money, power, security—and I might’ve fucked it all up. We’ll be lucky to get out of here alive after my slight to Duarte, the most notorious, mercurial drug lord in Mexico.
“Enzo and Gian had nothing to do with this,” I assert, lifting my chin to meet Duarte’s sharp glare with defiance. “I killed your men. It was my call.”
Dark brows arch over the drug lord’s eyes, a promise of death lurking in the black pools. “Is there a reason you chose to insult me like this?”
“Your men,” I spit the word with disdain, “were brutalizing an innocent woman. They kidnapped George Crawford’s fiancée. They beat her and were going to do far worse if I hadn’t stopped them.” I square my shoulders. “That’s not how I do business in Naples.”
Duarte’s lips pinch into a thin line. “You’re not in Naples. This is my territory. You are my guest.”
“She’s innocent.” I hold my ground. “Crawford might be a piece of shit, but she didn’t deserve that. Your men were going to kill her after she served her purpose as bait.”
“And you care so much about an innocent woman being hurt?” he challenges coolly, expression unreadable.
“Yes,” I bite out, bracing for violence. I’ve admitted my crime against him, and I won’t apologize for it.
A grim smile sharpens Duarte’s features, his sudden shift in demeanor knocking me off balance.
“Good. That’s not how I do business, either.
Besides, Carmen would’ve had my balls if I’d allowed an innocent woman to suffer like that under my watch.
You’ve saved my marriage, Massimo.” He tips his head at me.
“You have my gratitude. If those bastards were still alive, they’d be thanking you for ending them far more quickly than I would have. ”
I release a long breath, struggling to ease the tension from my muscles. Seconds ago, I’d been prepared to fight for my life. Now, Duarte is beaming at me like I’m his closest friend in the world. The cartel boss has earned his mercurial reputation. It’s unnerving as hell.
I respect that. A partnership with such a man will enrich us all.
And he’s just proven that he has his own code of honor that’s closely aligned with mine. We’ll have a profitable alliance. I won’t return home to Naples until we’ve sealed our bargain.
“If he’s your enemy, I’ll personally take care of George Crawford,” I vow.
I won’t apologize for killing Duarte’s men, but I will make amends.
“A very generous offer,” he drawls. “Are you not worried about drawing the attention of the DEA to your organization?”
Enzo and Gian both take a step forward at the same time in a show of solidarity. But despite their physical demonstration of loyalty, my friends aren’t keen to anger the American feds. Not when we haven’t even sealed our deal with Duarte to establish a cocaine trafficking route back to Italy.
Our position here is tenuous, the alliance new and fragile. We don’t yet have the infrastructure in Mexico and Colombia to defend our interests.
It’s up to me, in this moment, to ensure Duarte’s friendship. He’s the key to securing the alliance with his Colombian partners. We need them all if we were going to pull off our coup in Naples.
Gian’s anvil jaw ticks, a rare sign of frustration. He usually conceals his more volatile emotions, his stoic bearing matching his military-rigid style. For him, this is an enraged outburst. But otherwise, he remains outwardly composed, his dark green eyes steady on Duarte.
Enzo isn’t quite as skilled at hiding his feelings.
His body swells, his bulk obvious even in his sharply tailored suit.
The scar that curves beneath his right cheekbone draws deeper on a frown, his displeasure so clear that the mark is visible past the fall of wavy black hair that he grows long to cover it.
The brothers will give me hell for making this risky call later, in private, but my instincts have kept me alive for this long. I’ll trust in them now.
“We’re friends, aren’t we?” I ask Duarte. “Friends watch each other’s backs. If George Crawford is causing problems for you, I’ll eliminate him.”
His eyes glint with satisfaction. “All right, Massimo. I accept your gesture of friendship.”
He swirls the whiskey in his cut crystal glass, drawing out a moment of silence before divulging more. With every heartbeat, the tension in the room grows thicker. The man knows how to create an intimidating atmosphere, I’ll give him that.
I meet his dark stare head-on.
“We’re glad to hear that,” Gian offers, stepping in to navigate the politics of the situation. With his general’s bearing, he commands, “Tell us what we can do to help.”
“You and I have a lot of business to discuss, Gian,” Duarte counters, still smiling. “I’m sure Massimo can deal with this little problem on his own.”
It’s a decree, not a suggestion. It seems I’m being rebuked for the insult of murdering his men, even if he would’ve made the same judgment call. I understand the slight to his honor; I should’ve presented the bastards to him so that he could handle them personally.
I’ll pay my dues and make amends to Duarte by taking on the risk alone.
“Yes,” I agree firmly before Enzo and Gian declare that they’ll help me take on the DEA. “My friends have a lot to discuss with you. They’re the brains behind this operation. I can deal with Crawford on my own.”
Duarte chuckles, eyes roving over all six foot five of my bulky frame. “I’m sure you can.”
He leans forward slightly, the small gesture commanding the attention of every man in the room. His intense focus on me pierces my chest like a blade, but I don’t flinch. An approving smile ghosts around his mouth as he addresses me directly.
“George Crawford is a dirty agent,” he informs me, elaborating on the limited information I already have.
“He’s been working with my rivals, Los Zetas.
They’re trying to get a foothold in my territory, and Crawford is taking their bribes to keep the heat off them.
Meanwhile, he’s causing problems for me with his relentless investigations into my men, working off information the Zetas are feeding him.
The DEA won’t take it well when he’s murdered by the Camorra.
Especially when you have no business being in Mexico City. ”
“I don’t intend to be caught,” I reply coolly. “They won’t know of our involvement. And you’ll be kept out of it entirely.”
He cocks his head at me. “The authorities will suspect cartel involvement in his unfortunate disappearance.”
“And they won’t have any evidence to lead back to you,” I assure him. “They won’t be able to pin anything on you. Crawford won’t cause you any more trouble.”
He leans back in his chair, considering me. “You don’t strike me as a subtle man. But I’m trusting you to handle this delicately. Make sure this doesn’t blow back on me. That would be a very unfortunate end to our friendship.”
I offer him a grim nod. “I know how to make a man disappear. Don’t worry about that.”
“I trust Massimo with my life,” Gian interjects.
“Despite his brutish appearance, he can handle a situation like this carefully and quietly,” Enzo provides, backing me up with a bit of a jibe.
Where his brother is all military rigidity and calm authority, Enzo is more suave: equally cool in the face of danger, but more charming than his aloof, unfeeling counterpart. They make an effective team, and my presence has always completed our intimidating trio.
“George Crawford is a dead man,” I promise Duarte. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
To his superiors, Crawford appears to be a model agent, but he’s getting rich by doing favors for a cartel. I’ll put an end to his promising career, and he’ll never put his innocent fiancée at risk ever again.
The memory of Evelyn lying on that basement floor, broken and bleeding, flashes across my mind.
I barely manage to prevent my fists from clenching with renewed anger.
That motherfucker, Crawford, is the reason she was targeted.
He’s just as responsible for her victimization as the men who kidnapped her.
Soon, he’ll be dead, and Evelyn will be safe from his corruption. I’ll make sure of it.