Chapter 11
WAR
Kit and I were lying in bed, naked from our energetic sex session, when a knock came at the door.
I tensed immediately, every sense narrowing on the potential threat.
Kit was burrowed against my shoulder, but when the sound echoed around the room, he shifted and groaned.
I laid a kiss on his temple and slid out from under him, earning a whine of disapproval.
He was half asleep, watching me blearily as I grabbed my jeans and slid them on without my underwear, then zipped them.
I grabbed my gun from the bedside cabinet before I strode toward the door. I peeked through the peephole and relaxed a little when I realized it was room service. Staying alert, I unlocked the door and opened it. The employee greeted me with a cheerful smile.
“Good evening, sir. My name is Cassian, and I’ve been asked by Mr. Scalia to bring you the finest dinner anyone could ask for.
” He moved with a beat in his step, nearly skipping into the hotel room.
“We’ve brought you a choice of fresh oysters, rib fillet, beluga caviar, southern fried chicken if you prefer something more traditional, and a large range of vegetables and fruit.
” He pulled the silver cloches from the food, and the aroma filled the space around us.
Kit grumbled into the pillow, mumbling under his breath as he wriggled into a sitting position. The covers pooled around his naked waist, and I tensed. But Cassian paid him no mind, moving to the table to set it with a white cloth and silverware.
“What’s this?” Kit yawned, slapping a hand over his mouth.
“Dinner,” I grunted. “Courtesy of Scalia.” I spat his name with distaste. He’d put Kit in danger by sleeping with Sky behind his wife’s back, and my opinion of him wouldn’t change. I hadn’t met him, but I didn’t need to in order to dislike him.
“Mr. Scalia wanted to welcome you to St. Loren,” Cassian said happily as he wheeled the cart closer.
While Cassian was distracted, I snatched a pair of Kit’s pants and threw them at him.
He dragged them under the blankets and yanked them on, much to my relief.
I didn’t want to hurt a poor waiter. It wasn’t his fault I was feeling possessive over Kit.
He’d said that I was his, and that meant he was mine.
I wasn’t going to share, not even an accidental flash.
Kit glided out of bed, yawning again, and came over to the dining table. “This looks amazing.”
Cassian bowed his head toward him. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to the chef.” He pulled out a chair and gestured to it. “Please.”
Kit took a seat, and Cassian helped push his chair in.
He tried to do the same for me, but I waved him off.
I kept the handgun with me, not quite willing to put it away.
Cassian added a bucket of champagne with ice to the table.
He moved with professional ease, placing food on our plates. There really were a lot of options.
When he’d finished, he clapped his hands. “Is there anything else I can get you before I leave you to your meal?”
“No thanks,” Kit answered cheerfully.
Cassian grinned and bowed before pulling a sealed envelope from inside his vest. He passed the envelope to me, some of the shine in his eyes glinting dangerously.
My spine tensed.
“For you, sir,” he said.
I gritted my teeth. “Scalia?”
Cassian flashed a shark’s smile. “No, sir. From Mr. Riccardo Sabbatini. Please enjoy.” Then, he was gone, but not before giving me a sharp look as he shut the door. Nothing about Cassian was innocent, and I should’ve guessed this wasn’t as simple as receiving a meal.
Kit’s gaze tracked me as I ripped open the seal and pulled out the letter, his eyebrows low with concern.
If Sabbatini knew we were here and was sending us a letter, it didn’t bode well. Regardless, Kit was my top priority. Sky could lie in the grave he’d dug. I was going to lift Kit as high as possible, far from his brother’s mess.
The letter, written in a swirling calligraphy rarely seen these days, exuded an elegance I associated with Riccardo Sabbatini. He was the kind of man who wore the finest suits, drank the best alcohol, and lived in luxury. Of course, his writing reflected an old-world sophistication.
Mr. Briggs,
I heard you were visiting our lovely city. Welcome. Come to my house tomorrow at 5 p.m. Enjoy my cousin’s hotel.
~ Riccardo Sabbatini
Below his name was his home address, as if I’d forget where he lived. Goddamn it. The good news was that Sabbatini wasn’t surprising us by kidnapping Kit. The bad news was his awareness of our presence in St. Loren wouldn’t lead to anything good.
How much did he know? Was he aware of Sky sleeping with his cousin? I doubted it. If he was, we’d be in serious trouble.
“What does he want?” Kit asked carefully, taking a bite of chicken with his hands instead of cutlery. My gaze fixed on his fingers and the way he sucked on them after swallowing his food, stirring my cock. Down, boy. We had bigger issues than the glistening spit on Kit’s digits.
“He wants to meet with us tomorrow afternoon.” I gritted my teeth, the paper crumpling in my hand. “I knew coming here was a bad idea.”
“Sit and eat. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
I stared at him. “You don’t understand how dangerous these men are. Your brother can’t save us. He’s in over his head with Scalia.”
“I know. Sky’s always been impulsive.” He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “But he’s my little brother. I love him.”
That was the problem with families. They were a weakness, and I’d learned firsthand the heartbreak that came with losing a brother.
“Eat. We’re not taking on the world right now.”
I didn’t understand how he remained so calm. In the last few days, he’d discovered his father was essentially a mob boss, his brother was sleeping with a married Italian mobster, and the man Kit had slept with was indebted to his father. Yet, he ate his dinner as if he knew peace.
I scrubbed my hands over my face and sat in the opposite chair. My brain was already calculating all possible outcomes and situations I’d need to handle. Years of SEAL training had my entire body on alert, my gaze subtly flicking toward the windows.
“You said I didn’t know much about you before we slept together, so tell me.” Kit’s voice drew my attention. “Who are you, War?”
Who was I? Broken. A shell of a man who’d faced his worst nightmares and still lived them in his sleep.
The faces of the men I’d served beside flashed in my mind, their haunting expressions seared into my frontal lobe.
The memory of my brother, panic etched into his expression as he took his final breath, lodged itself into the deepest recesses of my agony.
“What do you want to know?” I picked up a piece of pork and bit into the tender meat, letting it fall apart on my tongue. Flavors burst in my mouth, and I hated to admit how good the food was and how hungry I’d been.
“I only know War, my dad’s bodyguard. You were right last night.
I don’t know your birthday or where you were born.
Do you have siblings?” Kit stared at me with gentle curiosity, the kind that wove a spell under my skin and made me feel exposed.
He didn’t demand answers, but rather asked so delicately I melted under his tenderness.
This wasn’t a man who should be exposed to the brutal underworld.
I understood why Derek wanted to keep him protected for so long.
“I did. A younger brother.” The pork turned acidic in my mouth. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” Kit’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I laughed sadly, Eric’s face flashing in my mind. “Yeah, I don’t talk about it.”
“Do you want to, though?” Kit’s voice turned gentle. “You could tell me about him.”
No, because if I told Kit about Eric, he’d find out what a horrible person I was and how I’d failed my brother. Kit would know what a disappointment I was.
“He used to call me Reek. Not War. I was never War before I became a SEAL.” I leaned back against my seat, tonguing my teeth. “His name was Eric.”
“Warrick and Eric.” Kit’s smile sent warmth through me, fighting off the coldness that threatened to consume my insides. “Your mom liked Ricks, huh?”
I snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. Something like that. But we both hated the name Rick, so neither of us were going to let the other call us that. So, I was Reek, and he was Errie.”
“Reek? Like stinky?” Kit snickered, when I nodded.
“Yeah. He thought he was funny.”
“Reek and Errie. Sounds like something from a comic.” Kit’s grin widened, and his face transformed into something even more beautiful. He was the Kit I knew before he found out his father was a criminal, before his whole life was turned upside down.
“Only until we got to our teens. Then, it was Eric and Reek. He didn’t want to be called Errie anymore. He was too cool for it. But I never stopped calling him Errie. It drove him nuts.”
I hadn’t talked about Eric in a long time. Maybe I hadn’t spoken about him to anyone since he died—certainly not Mom. Hell, I hadn’t even seen her since before his death. Did she think about me? I didn’t want to know.
“Eric wanted to be like me.” The words felt distant, from a time that seemed to have never existed—a distant past before we joined the navy.
Now, it was nothing more than a memory I’d long tried to forget.
But Kit looked at me with an eager curiosity that made me want to tell him everything, to open my heart and spill its contents.
“I was only a few years older than him. Our dad left when we were kids. I can’t even remember what he looks like. ”
My hands clenched into fists on the table, fingernails digging into the vulnerable flesh of my palms.