fourteen
“He annoys the ever living piss out of me, and don’t call him princess.”- Leo
Friday Morning…
“Okay, so... this is the place according to the coordinates Peadar sent.” My body sways as Fletcher brings the van to a stop.
“I’ll see if I can hack into his security system.” Evan grabs his laptop and opens it, clicking away in a matter of seconds. “That’ll give us a better idea of whether or not he’s home, where everyone is located, including his security team.”
“Wait, he’s supposed to be home, right?” Daron glances out the window trying to be inconspicuous. It’s a useless effort; the property is heavily fenced and gated. The house sits too far back to see from the road. Fucking rich people.
“Yeah, but he has security.” I rack my brain for a halfway decent plan.
Peadar gave us little to no information.
He said De Luca lives here, and he wanted us to break into the house, kill his guards, and torture him for more information about Altieri’s next move.
We don’t even have a blueprint of the property.
I’m no stranger to climbing walls, but these are very high.
Evan could hack into the system and open the gate for us, but the security guard that is stationed there would definitely notice.
“How’s babysitting going?” Fletcher asks, with a shit-eating grin, while we wait for Evan. I tap my foot, anxious to get moving.
“Leo, you wanna take this one?” Daron smiles in my direction.
I glare in return, letting my confusion show.
“C’mon, Lee, don’t wanna tell them ‘bout the note you insisted on leaving for ‘Cali’ this morning?” Daron uses four fingers to quote the nickname, and I barely stop myself from lunging across the van. My cheeks heat, but I’m not embarrassed. I don’t get embarrassed.
“A note for Cali?” Fletcher’s eyes widen before his face breaks into a massive grin.
Yes, I am going to murder Daron. Tonight.
While he sleeps, I’m going to cave his skull in with a toaster.
It will be perfect, the little bastard. I could probably come up with a more creative assassination plan, but that’ll have to do for now.
I’ll think of something better later. I’m saving all of my creativity for De Luca.
“It was nothing. He was asleep when we left, and I wanted to let him know where we went.”
I shrug it off, trying to keep my face from betraying my words.
I gulp down my coffee, as memories from last night flood my brain– the electric feeling of Callisto’s hard length pressed against my own.
I swallow roughly, the liquid catching in my throat and burning all the way down.
I sputter coughing violently as Daron cackles while patting me on the back.
“Come off it. Nico was there. We told him what was up, so you didn’t have to leave your boy a love letter,” Daron points out.
I look up, glaring at him through watery eyes. It’s hard to look intimidating when you’re actively drowning on dark roast, and Daron bursting out laughing once again, tells me my death-stare failed completely.
“He’s not my boy, and it wasn’t a love letter,” I murmur, praying this will be the end of it. Evan needs to hurry the fuck up because I cannot take much more of this. The rapid-fire tapping of keys that weaves through Daron’s laughter dashes my hopes.
“Are you fucking him? Leo. Jesus fuck. Peadar is gonna be pissed the fuck off if he finds out.” Fletcher's voice drops all humor, loud and tense in the small space. I meet his hazel eyes, which are wide with genuine concern.
“What? No. I’m not fucking him! He’s not even my type!” I defend. I absentmindedly reach out, playing with my necklace. Callisto is pretty. Gorgeous even. But he’s definitely not my type. He’s too… too… rich? Stuck up? Perfect in every way?
“Leo, you haven’t dated anyone in years. You don’t even know your type,” Daron chimes in. I punch him in the arm, ignoring his overly dramatic ‘ouch’. I didn’t hit him that hard, for fuck’s sake.
“I mean, he is pretty cute from what I remember,” Fletcher shrugs.
“Watch it, Morgan,” Evan says quietly, blue eyes not even leaving his screen.
“You have no room to talk, Lynch.” Fletcher's tone is still playful, but there’s a certain iciness to it.
Evan’s fingers pause, hovering above the keyboard.
They exchange a look– brief, heated, and heavy with a history they refuse to clear up.
Fletcher shakes his head, and Evan goes back to the computer.
What the fuck was that all about? They certainly don't have the right to lecture me about my sex life. Those two have been on-and-off so many times, I’ve lost count.
“Yeah. I remember him being pretty, in a very prissy sort of way,” Daron says, entirely oblivious to the tension between Fletcher and Evan. He taps his chin and looks up at the ceiling. I roll my eyes.
“You’ve got one thing right. He’s very prissy. He’s like the biggest walking contradiction I’ve ever met. He blushes if you say the word ‘dick’, but he has absolutely no modesty when it comes to his body.”
“Are you growing attached to the princess?”
Hearing the nickname I use for Callisto coming out of Fletcher’s mouth grates on my nerves.
I have no idea why. I call him that all the time.
I literally called him that last night right before I came in my pants.
That was ridiculously hot. Jesus fucking Christ.
I need to get myself together before it happens again.
My dick twitches in my combat pants, and I shift uncomfortably, trying to hide my growing erection.
“No. He annoys the ever living piss out of me and don’t call him princess.” I can’t help but add the second part.
“I annoy the ever living piss out of you, and you’re attached to me.” Fletcher grins. I am going to shoot him, too. Did they forget I have a gun? A nice, shiny gun.
“Debatable.”
“Wait. You told Fletch not to call him princess, yet that’s what you called him in your note this morning.” Daron points at me accusingly. My eyes widen.
“You were looking over my shoulder, you nosy fucking cunt!” I snap.
“‘Course I was! What the fuck did ya expect? My specialty is knowing things I shouldn’t.”
Daron’s eyes are alight with joy at my suffering.
“Now please explain why you’re allowed to call our dear Mr. Santos ‘princess’, but Fletch isn’t.”
He looks exactly like the Joker cornering Batman, and, unfortunately, I don’t have a bat-grapple to zoom the fuck out of here.
“Fuck. I don’t know.” I lower my head to my hands, rubbing my eyes. I’m far too tired for this shit. I barely slept last night. I tossed and turned in my bed, the problems in my head making the sheets far too cold and scratchy against my raw skin.
“Seriously, Lee, you really shouldn’t be getting attached. His parents will pay the ransom soon, then he will be out of your life.”
Evan looks up from his computer, his worried gaze locking onto mine.
The atmosphere in the van sobers. Even Daron’s smile drops.
It’s a harsh, cold dose of reality– the exact thing I’d been telling myself but hearing it out loud from someone else makes it concrete.
“I know. I know. I’m not. It’s just… complicated,” I sigh, looking down at my coffee, pretending to find the ‘caution’ sign on the lid particularly fascinating as I trace it with my finger. Callisto should come with one of those etched into his perfect, tan skin.
“Complicated? How so?” Daron asks, his voice isn't mocking anymore. It’s quiet. Contemplative.
“He just… I don’t know… I guess I feel sort of sorry for him, and not in the ‘sorry I kidnapped you’ way but in the ‘I’m sorry your parents are total shit and your view on the world is so skewed it’s worrisome’ kind of way.” My words are punctuated by the steady, ambient sound of Evan’s keyboard.
“Leo, has something more happened that you’re not telling us about?” Daron asks, cautiously.
Fucking Daron. He knows me far too well, and I want to crawl under the van to escape his eyes.
“Not really…” I start, but both Daron and Fletcher give me the look which stops the lie on my tongue.
“We kissed once, and last night, we sort of…
got off on each other, but it was nothing.
I swear. Nothing. We had fallen asleep watching something on the couch, and woke up horny, and one thing led to another. It‘ll never happen again.”
“Jesus, Lee,” Daron mutters, and Fletcher whistles low. Evan even glances at me, offering a sympathetic look before turning back to his monitor.
“I know–”
“You can’t let it go any further, Leo.” Daron cuts me off.
“I know we give you shit about getting a boyfriend, but this will just end horribly. He’s your fucking prisoner. We are ransoming him off. If Peadar doesn’t figure out a way to keep him quiet once he’s gone, then he may even relocate us to another city because they can identify us.
What the fuck are you thinking?!”
The coffee in my stomach turns to acid. I know all of this. I remind myself every single fucking day, but it doesn’t stop my body from reacting to him. Fuck. Fortunately, I’m saved from answering by Evan.
“I’m in. De Luca’s in the master bedroom, located on the second floor in the east wing. He’s in there with a female. Looks like she may be a maid. There are guards outside of the room. Two. Then there’s one in the west wing, second floor, three more roaming downstairs, two outside of the entrance,
two more at the back door and one at the gate. I don’t see anyone else in the house. That’s still a lot. You sure you can handle it?”
Evan asks, his voice hesitant as he looks up from his computer.
I mentally map the layout. “Eleven. We’ve taken on more. They don’t even know we’re coming. Just keep an eye on our backs from here, Evan. Tell us the second someone moves or gets alerted.”
Evan nods once. We all reach for our wireless earpieces, clicking them in place.
“Okay guys. You know the drill,” I start, easily stepping into my leadership role.
“We’ll split up once we take out the guard at the gate. Dismantle all security but try to be quiet once we’re inside the house, especially on the second floor. Let’s all meet at De Luca’s bedroom. Evan will be giving us directions from here since he’s got the layout.”