Chapter 13
KIT
The next morning, War and I went sightseeing.
Although War considered St. Loren dangerous, he sweetly agreed to tour the city with me, since I’d never been there.
He remained vigilant, gaze tracking those around us as if they were a high-level threat planning my demise, yet he held my hand and was the perfect guide.
We had lunch at a Mexican restaurant, where I devoured the most delicious enchiladas I’d ever tasted.
By afternoon, War had grown quiet. His muscles were taut, and he gritted his teeth like a man facing execution.
I didn’t blame him. I was tense, too, knowing nothing about Sabbatini.
We were in an Uber, almost at Sabbatini’s house, or so War said.
He lived in the émeraude District, and everything about the place was pretentious.
The houses were contemporary, visibly full of new money families that stared a little too suspiciously at the small Ford we were being driven in.
“You let me talk,” War murmured, his voice low enough to escape the Uber driver’s notice. “He’s manipulative and careful. I know him. I’ll answer any questions for us.”
I nodded, trusting War to protect me. As silly as it sounded, I wasn’t overly worried, largely because War was with me. Perhaps knowing my dad’s power also made me think Sabbatini wouldn’t want to provoke him.
The house we pulled up to was past a tall iron fence, open for our convenience, and was more a mansion—massive. The building was straight lines and sharp edges, which seemed appropriate for a mob boss’s home, I supposed. I couldn’t help but lean over War to gape at it through the window.
The Uber driver whistled. “Damn, man, that’s one nice place.”
I had to agree.
War slid out first, and I was right behind him. He grabbed my wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Stay behind me. If someone pulls a gun, take cover. No exceptions. Got it?”
I wanted to argue, to say I wouldn’t take cover unless he did, too, but I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t win. He looked good today in worn jeans, military boots, and a green T-shirt that clung to his muscles in all the right places. His dog tags were visible above his collar. They must be his armor.
We walked to the white front doors, but before we could knock, it opened.
The man in the doorway looked like someone from the mafia.
He was tall, though not as tall as War, and wore a charcoal gray suit that molded to his body.
With short dark hair, a trimmed beard, and sun-kissed skin, he was, I supposed, handsome.
But it was his eyes that captured my attention—cold and blue, they regarded us with a scary mix of intrigue and suspicion.
War tensed farther in front of me. “Massimo.”
The man—Massimo, apparently—smirked and stepped aside.
He said nothing, simply watching us as he gestured us inside.
I followed War into the white foyer with golden trims, feeling utterly out of place.
This house was something out of a dream, with elaborate chandeliers and paintings I was sure cost a fortune.
“My brother is waiting for you in his office.” Massimo’s voice was deep and dark, his Southern accent curling around the words.
He strode ahead, and War slipped his hand into mine before following.
Massimo led us through a hallway and past a formal living room.
We headed to the right, straight to a set of scarlet wooden doors. Massimo didn’t knock.
As we stepped inside, War stopped, causing me to halt.
I peered around War’s shoulder, taking in the room.
The office was nice, if simplistic in its design.
Black was everywhere, from the walls to the marble floors.
A deep brown rug lay beneath an ash wooden desk, and the left wall was entirely windows, looking out onto a large lap pool.
Behind the desk sat another man in a suit, very similar in appearance to Massimo, which told me this was Riccardo.
In the center of the room was a large black, leather U-shaped couch, occupied by a woman and two other men. They all bore a striking resemblance, with the same dark hair, stern expressions, and similar facial features.
“Mr. Briggs.” Riccardo smiled, sending a shiver of fear down my spine.
Unlike Massimo, he had brown eyes and a faded haircut, and he was dressed to impress—or intimidate.
“Welcome to St. Loren. You remember my brothers and sister. Santino—” The man he pointed at had more hair and a curious look.
“Tommaso—” This one had a meaner expression and bared his teeth like a rabid animal.
“And Gaia.” The woman was pretty. Her hair was lighter than her brothers’, and she wore deep red lipstick that matched her crimson dress.
Silver dangle earrings sparkled under the lights.
She was petite, but I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, not with the way she smiled.
Their names meant nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. I still didn’t know who they were, except that they were mafia. I’d never expected to find myself standing before mobsters, but here I was. Like fucking prey.
Gaia tilted her head, staring at me from around War. “Is this cutie really Sky’s big brother?”
At the mention of Sky, I tensed and stepped out from behind War. “You know Sky?”
War hissed at me between his teeth. “Kit—”
“Of course, we know him. My cousin is quite fond of him, though we’ve only just met.
” She crossed her legs and leaned back against the couch.
Her fingernails were as red as her dress and lipstick.
Part of me imagined she liked the color because it reminded her of blood. “He is a darling. Very good-looking.”
Tommaso snorted. “If you like them pretty.”
“Why are we here?” War demanded, holding out an arm in front of me. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“No, you haven’t.” Riccardo stood, and he was tall. Really tall. Why did all the fucking mobsters have to be tall? Short criminals existed, thank you very much. Why couldn’t I face off with them instead? He swept around his desk and stepped closer to us.
Massimo moved to stand next to Gaia. It was ridiculous how good-looking each of them was. There were ugly criminals, too, right? Right?
“Your arrival made me curious, especially when you showed up to my cousin’s spare apartment.
Imagine my surprise when I find out he has a side piece he hides there, and that side piece is the son of Derek Uhlig.
” Riccardo raised his dark eyebrows, though he didn’t sound too surprised by this revelation.
Gaia tsked and tapped two fingernails together. “Very surprising. And here I thought Arrigo was faithful to his wife.”
Santino was the one who snorted this time, but his was softer than Tommaso’s, less condescending and more in disbelief. “He hated her the moment he laid eyes on her.”
The three sitting in chairs, plus Massimo, laughed, while Riccardo’s mouth twitched.
“The things we have to do for our famiglia,” Riccardo practically purred.
“Mr. Uhlig didn’t know about Sky’s relationship.” War straightened his shoulders as my stomach churned. “As far as Mr. Uhlig knew, Sky was backpacking around the south. He’s always been a free spirit. There were no conversations about relationships.”
“Don’t get your titties in a twist, big man.” Riccardo’s eyes brightened in amusement. “We didn’t bring you here to cause problems. Our cousin will be handled.”
Panic surged up in my throat, and I shoved past War again, ignoring his sounds of protest. I stood in front of Riccardo with more confidence than I had, but I’d spent my entire life protecting Sky, and I wasn’t going to stop now. “Don’t touch a hair on my brother’s head or I’ll make you regret it.”
“Kit.” War grasped my elbow, but I shook him off. I wasn’t backing down, not when it came to Sky.
Riccardo stared at me for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.
His siblings joined in, except Tommaso, who watched me like he wanted to strip my skin from my bones and burn me to ashes.
Fear tingled my insides, my stomach churning, but I ignored the voice that chanted run, run, run in my head.
“You’re a funny kid,” Riccardo said.
“I’m twenty-two. Not a kid,” I snapped back at him. “And I mean it. Don’t touch Sky.”
“We won’t, but not because you told us not to.”
The doors snapped open. I jumped, falling into War’s chest as he yanked me backward, his arms secured around me protectively.
Dad walked into the office, his head held high, flanked by two familiar men whose names I didn’t know.
He wore his favorite sunglasses and an expression I’d never seen before—stern with a treacherous glint, promising harm to anyone who crossed him.
He had on the pale blue button-up shirt I’d always thought looked savvy on him, black pants, and shiny black shoes.
Now that I knew the truth about him, the air around him felt stifling and charged.
“Just in time, Derek.” Riccardo crossed his arms and nodded toward me. “Your son delivered, as promised.”
“What?” The word spilled angrily from my lips as I spun a glare on Riccardo. “That’s why we’re here? For you to hand me over to my dad like I’m three years old?”
“You should have come home after Pleasant Beach,” Dad said tightly, his gaze spearing War. “Which were your orders, War.”
War’s grip on me remained firm, his fingers curling into my shirt. “He was going to St. Loren with or without me. It’s easier to keep him safe if I’m with him.”
“And I’m an adult,” I yelled, my temper getting the best of me. “I don’t need you to dictate my life.”
“You left because of the message you received, a message I’m told came from your brother.” He spat out “your brother” as though they were dirty words, and disappointment sat heavy in his voice.