22. Luciano
Luciano
Two men are already seated when Alessandro and I walk into the private meeting room. Except, instead of Gabriele and Romeo at the table, it’s Romeo and a man I don’t know, but based on his looks alone, I would guess he’s a Moretti.
Alessandro takes his chair while I lower myself beside him, Massimo and Gio standing guard behind us.
“Thank you for meeting with us sooner rather than later,” Romeo begins. “We wanted to resolve this situation right away.”
Alessandro and I stare across the table, waiting for them to get on with it. The fact that Gabriele Moretti didn’t even bother to show up is irritating enough. If they’re here to waste our fucking time, I’m going to be pissed.
“I want to introduce you to Salvatore Moretti, Gabriele Morettis oldest son,” Romeo says.
My jaw tightens as I eye Salvatore Moretti, sitting in the same chair that his father was in yesterday.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Normally, I would ignore it, but when I see that it’s Fallon’s bodyguard, I answer. I would never do such a thing in a meeting this important, but these motherfuckers are pissing me off so they can wait for me to take a call.
“Sir, there’s been an incident. Fallon was attacked behind the salon. I heard screaming and ran around back. They fled off before I got there, and I stopped to help her.”
“She’s hurt?”
My blood goes cold.
No.
Not my girl.
“She has a head injury. I’m rushing her to the hospital right now. Our doctors are on their way to meet us.”
I grip the table so hard my knuckles ache. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. It was dark, and they were too far away for me to see.”
Across the table, Salvatore and Romeo watch me, and I glance over at Alessandro.
This just happened.
Just now.
While I’m sitting here with them.
A meeting they requested before the forty-eight hours were up.
Rage floods every inch of my body.
“I’m coming,” I reply calmly before I end the call.
I reach beneath my jacket and take my gun out, sending a flurry of movement as every man in the room moves to pull theirs.
“You motherfuckers,” I spit out.
“Luciano?” Alessandro asks quietly, though his pistol is pointed at Salvatore.
“They attacked Fallon. She’s unconscious.”
Alessandro’s entire demeanor shifts, his eyes narrowing on the men. Angelo curses behind me.
I glare at Salvatore. “You called us here so you could go after her! A woman! My woman!”
Salvatore and Romeo glance at each other for half a second, then back at us.
Salvatore shakes his head. “We did no such thing. I assure you.”
“Bullshit,” I grit out.
He shakes his head and slowly lowers his weapon, setting it down on the table before holding his hands up. “I swear to you, we didn’t go after anyone in your organization.”
“You expect me to believe that? Your word?” I scoff, staring across at them in disgust.
“Where is your father, and why is he not here? How am I supposed to believe you had nothing to do with this if he doesn’t even have the balls to show his face to me?” Alessandro asks.
“Because my father is dead,” Salvatore replies coldly. “I killed him this morning, and I brought photos to prove it.”
Alessandro and I cast a quick glance to each other. He’s just as confused as I am.
“My father was corrupt and a thief. I found your emeralds in his safe after Romeo told me about them being missing. I don’t believe in hurting women. Moving forward, we won’t be selling them, either,” Salvatore explains. “A lot of things will be changing in the Moretti syndicate.”
Then he reaches over to a large yellow envelope a few inches away from his gun and empties it onto the table. Photos and deep green gems fall out. A mix of beautiful and gruesome.
Half a dozen photos of Gabriele Moretti with two bullet holes in his body—one in the chest and one in the forehead—are spread out before us.
“I’ve been investigating my father’s dealings for some time.
Romeo was aware of this; he’s the one who brought his concerns to me since I was next in line as head of the organization.
My father has one hundred million dollars in gambling debt.
Not only did he steal from you, but he’s been cutting corners.
We had suspicions about our weapons being poorly developed and distributed without our knowledge.
What you said yesterday about what you’d heard from your own trusted sources validated what we’d been thinking, so I confronted him this morning.
He knew the consequences of what he did.
And he knew if I ever found out what it would be.
My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on most things.
“I understand your hesitation to believe us, but we came here in good faith with all your emeralds and proof that my father is no longer the leader of the Moretti mafia. I am. I’d like to extend an invitation for us to work together, moving forward.”
My head is swimming. I’m trying to take in everything Salvatore is saying, but all I want right now is Fallon. To get to her and make sure she’s safe. And to find out who hurt her, because it doesn’t matter who it was; they’re walking their last moments on earth.
Alessandro lowers his gun and signals to the rest of our men to follow suit. Salvatore does the same. When they all obey, I’m the only one with mine still raised, pointed at Salvatore.
He holds his hands up again and looks me directly in the eye. “We are not responsible for harming your woman. And we will help you in finding whoever did.”
I stare at him for a long moment before I slowly lower my pistol and tuck it into the waistband of my slacks. I’m not sure I trust these men, but getting home to my girl is more important right now.
“I’m leaving,” I say.
Then I turn and stride out of the room, with Angelo following me out to the warm Las Vegas streets.
“I want a chopper to meet us at the airport in Seattle to get us to the hospital quicker,” I tell him before we climb into the waiting SUV with another of our men driving.
The entire ride to the airport, I say nothing else. When I look down at my hands, they’re shaking.
I can’t lose her.
I won’t.
I fucking hate hospitals.
They tell people to rest, yet the nurses are constantly coming in and out to poke and prod the patient.
I sit beside Fallon’s bed, my elbows resting on my knees and my hands clasped together so tight that my knuckles ache.
She hasn’t moved in hours.
Why isn’t she waking up?
A bandage covers the back of her head, and one side of her face is already showing a deep purple bruise. Every time I look at it, something violent and deadly claws at my chest.
The doctor said she had a laceration that required staples, and she has a concussion. He is keeping her sedated for now, so her body can rest while they monitor her.
I reach out and wrap my hand around hers, leaning down to kiss it. “I’m so sorry, princess.”
The door opens behind me, and Alessandro steps inside. He comes to stand beside me, and we both stare at her for a long time.
“Anything?” I finally ask.
“No. It was too dark for the security cameras to catch anything.”
I turn and glare at him. “You’re telling me she was attacked in the middle of Seattle, and nobody saw a fucking thing?”
His expression stays calm. “I have all our resources working on it. Seeing whether we can get a better image from the cameras, but so far nothing.”
I look back at Fallon, and that white-hot rage spreads over me again.
“One of Moretti’s men sent traffic footage over from two cameras that we were struggling to get access to.”
That pulls my attention away from her as I look over at my boss and best friend. “Do you believe what they said to us in that meeting?”
Alessandro slides his hands in his pockets and watches Fallon. “I think it would be wise to remain cautious while feeling them out. This wouldn’t be the first time there’s been inside corruption in a syndicate. Salvatore seems like he genuinely wants to turn things around, though.”
A nurse enters the room, and we stop talking while she glances at the numbers on the screen and writes something on Fallon’s chart.
“When is she going to wake up?” I ask for probably the twentieth time.
She glances at me over the rim of her reading glasses, and I can tell her patience with me is growing thin. “The doctor wants her to rest through the night while we monitor her brain activity. She’s perfectly comfortable and not in any pain. We’ll reassess her in the morning.”
Fuck.
That’s hours away.
I don’t know whether I can wait that long to see my girl open her sparkling green eyes.
The nurse finishes charting and leaves us alone again.
“You should eat.”
“I’m not leaving her,” I answer without hesitation.
Alessandro sighs. “I figured. I’ll call in something for delivery.”
If I weren’t so distracted with worry right now, I’d probably be more grateful to my best friend, but he knows that I appreciate him, just as he does me. We have each other’s backs through everything.
When he leaves to order our food, I lean forward and rest my head next to Fallon on the bed, setting her hand on my face.
“You’re going to wake up, and when you do, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.” My throat tightens, and my eyes burn. “Then I’m going to make sure they never get the chance to hurt you again.”