Chapter Four
Damiano
Matteo, my enforcer, walks into the room and takes in the body on the floor. He looks up at me and frowns.
“Did he say anything?”
I run my hand through my hair with a frustrated sigh. “Not much. Said he was contacted by phone, didn’t know the fucker who called him. Payment went through an offshore account, no doubt untraceable.”
Luc chimes in, “He blabbered about a warehouse. Had to drive a van from a warehouse on the docks to an abandoned house downtown. But that’s it.
He was asked to stay inside and not to look out.
Says he saw nothing. He just assumed that there were women in the back of the van from the sniffling and crying he heard.
I will have men pay those two places a visit. ”
Teo lets out a breath. “Goddammit! How can they move around like ghosts right under our nose?”
I keep asking myself the same damn question, over and over.
It’s been a month, four weeks of chasing shadows, running in circles, grasping at scraps of intel that lead nowhere.
We follow every lead, every whisper, and still come up empty.
Girls are vanishing off our streets, young, innocent, gone without a trace.
One moment they’re here, the next they’re ghosts.
And we have no fucking idea where to look.
They are being taken right under our noses…
and we are no closer to the truth than when we started.
“It has to be the Mancini,” Luc seethes. “They are acting shady as fuck and they have ties with the Bratva.”
I shake my head. “Without proof, there is nothing we can do. Confronting them now would let them know we are investigating them. Let them get bold. They will eventually slip up and then we can take them out.”
I go on, “Luc, you investigate the warehouse and the drop-off location. Teo, I want you to look at every transaction on this fucker’s account and through his phone.
Put your men on the surveillance cameras on the streets, there has to be footage of the van.
Fuck, set up cameras on the places in case they come back. ”
I look with disgust at the form on the floor and my mood sours even more. A perfectly nice jacket ruined.
“And have a team clean up this mess.”
They both nod grimly and file out.
My gut tells me it has to be one of the families. A traitor is among us. They have always been a step ahead of us. Every time we thought we were closing in on them, we grasped fucking air.
Could it be the Mancini? They have been our rivals for generations.
They resent the fact that the Santaluccia are at the head of the Boston families, and they never hide their contempt.
Couldn’t I just wipe them out? I let out a breath.
Contempt is not reason enough to wipe out a family, unfortunately. Why can’t things be that fucking easy?
My mind drifts back to those green eyes, brave and unblinking. Lips full and soft-looking, made to tempt. Her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, drawing my attention like a magnet. But it wasn’t just the body. It was the fear in her gaze…laced with defiance.
There was fire in her. Strength. And something else I can’t quite name, something that’s got my blood running hot and the beast inside me clawing at its cage.
What is it about this slip of a girl that held me like this? Why couldn’t I look away?
Of course she was stunning, those green eyes, vibrant and sharp, her heart-shaped face framed by a cascade of auburn hair that caught the light like fire.
Her skin, pale and impossibly smooth, made her look almost surreal.
And her body? A masterpiece, like the gods had carved her solely to test the resolve of mortal men.
I’ve had my share of beautiful women—more than my fair share, if I’m being honest. They come willingly, eagerly, throwing themselves at my feet like offerings to a king.
Perks of being one of the most powerful men in the state.
They flutter and fawn, desperate to catch my eye, hoping they’ll hold it long enough to become Mrs. Santaluccia.
Not her, though. Why? What is she hiding?
I push the thoughts of her aside and step out of the room, blending into the glittering chaos of the ballroom.
As always, eyes turn. People move toward me, eager to be seen, eager to be acknowledged.
Businessmen crowd in with fake smiles and firm handshakes, angling for deals.
Women drift closer, all perfume and promise, hoping to catch my eye.
I brush past them all. Nothing they have to offer interests me in the slightest.
Why is it that surrounded by laughter, light and the buzz of admiration, I’ve never felt this kind of emptiness before?