Chapter 9 Angelo
NINE
Angelo
Instead of spending any time with me, Luisa isolates herself in my study, surrounded by a fortress of books. Fine.
I check my weaponry, and text Mateo that they don’t need to come in, guns blazing. They just need to get our police-issued rat to take Luisa’s place tonight.
He gives me a thumbs up, nothing else. I turn off the phone and run my fingers through my hair, glancing down the hallway as my leg bounces.
Just sex. It was just sex. Damn good sex.
Fucking excellent sex. Twice ... and eating her out .
.. I groan as my mouth waters. Luisa is more than sex, and I’m not stupid enough to ignore that.
She has bite, finesse, intelligence, sex appeal, power .
.. she’s unafraid or hides it well which is another point for her.
It’s baffling how, when she’s around, the usual power shifts don’t apply. People who wouldn’t dare challenge me flinch at my temper, yet she meets my gaze without hesitation, throwing sass like a weapon, always ready to provoke. She’s not one to back down from a fight either.
How can I lose a woman like her? I don’t give a shit that she’s a detective. She’s a powerful strong woman who does shit the right way and thinks it through. She’s an asset in human form, a weapon, and, more importantly, a good person.
My thoughts don’t make the day last longer and when I report for dinner, I see Luisa in jeans and a proper shirt, one that fits her and compliments her. She has her purse and a small bag. Her eyes flick to me, dark, gorgeous, as intoxicating as the rest of her.
“Leaving?” I ask.
“Don’t die,” she says.
“You’d miss me,” I say.
She chews the inside of her lip as she looks me over. “Wear a shirt.”
“Getting possessive?”
She rolls her eyes, but her eyes flick back to my bare chest where I have plenty of evidence of our fucking. There’s a hickey on my collarbone and I’m sure there’s some lingering red marks from her nails.
“I’m serious.”
“About the shirt?”
“Don’t die, Angelo. I’ll ... make sure you’re buried without a dick or something,” she huffs.
I close the space between us and press my lips to hers, savoring the moment. “If you want to make a cast of my dick so you can turn it into a toy, all you have to do is ask.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide. I lean in and kiss her once more. “Don’t fuck anyone else,” I growl.
“You won’t know the difference.”
“I will and I’ll make sure that they live a very long life without the fingers they put inside you, without a tongue if they slip it between your lips, and a cock if they go all the way with you,” I promise her before pulling her close and kissing her again.
She rolls her eyes. “Does that line work?”
I nip her ear. “You’re impossible to flirt with.”
“Get better ... material or whatever. Look things up online. Be a human instead of a walking red flag,” she snorts.
I chuckle. “Cruel.”
She glances at the hickey she left on me, then up at me. “I already told you I’m coming back. Isn’t that ... better than flirting?”
“A promise is always better,” I agree, brushing a slow tender kiss against her lips.
She runs her fingers over my chest. “No dying ... minimal murder. Make whatever poor bastard replaces me handle it.”
“We know it’s not your partner. He’d rip off my balls.”
She smirks “As long as he leaves your dick, that doesn’t sound half bad.” Then, as if to prove her point, she trails her knuckles over my bulge before sauntering away, leaving me longing for another stolen kiss.
It’s going to be a long night without her here. I’ve gotten too used to her stumbling in the hall at night, waking me up when she closes cupboards or hits the few squeaky spots on the stairs.
“It’s necessary,” I remind myself. “It keeps her safe and alive. It keeps us from having more problems or attention than we need ... it’ll keep me focused.”
Closing my eyes, I try to dislodge the heavy stone rolling around in my chest, telling me something is wrong. I text Mateo, letting him I know something is up, but my house phone rings. I stare at it. No one calls me here.
I pick it up and hear my father’s voice. He speaks Italian as if the police won’t get a translator. “It’s happening. Accept it.”
“It’s pointless and you know it.”
“I thought letting Emilia run around was fine. I thought she couldn’t damage us. She proved me wrong. That means you need to be back in action. I’m not waiting for you to be cleared of charges for that.”
“So you’ll what? Kill me? Fake my death?”
“Yes.”
The word rings in my ear like a siren.
“You’ll bleed enough. We’ll patch you up, set a fire, leave a corpse. It would have been better if you’d kept the cop there,” he says darkly.
I don’t tell him this is a recorded line.
There was a time that I would have stomached this. Like Luisa said yesterday, I threatened a child. I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I don’t hurt kids. But faking my death, that would be fine. Taking a cop out with me shows commitment, also fine. But Luisa ...
“Angelo, you aren’t slipping, are you?”
“No,” I answer.
“Then take the bullets, go to the hospital, die, and come back as a cousin I’ll treat as a son,” he says.
I don’t speak. I don’t need to. I just hang up. I know the plan which is ... considerate coming from my father, but it brings up an unwelcome reminder. I don’t remember the last time I’ve said no to one of his ideas.
I obey. That’s what an obedient son does. It’s what a future leader does when being mentored. I obey because my father is supposed to know better and lead me in the right direction. This doesn’t feel like the right direction anymore.
When he said Emilia couldn’t take over the family, I agreed.
She’s been unpredictable and too determined to prove herself.
That can get a person in trouble. Mateo is in this for the lifestyle of a billionaire and Luca .
.. Luca’s always been kept from the nasty, bloody side of things. I’ve fought his battles my whole life.
I’ve shielded my siblings from the worst–other than Emilia because she just wouldn’t let me–and I’ve accepted everything on my plate because it’s better that it falls to me than them. I’ll kill the terrible. I will eliminate those who would go free in a court of law. I take care of our people.
This isn’t doing that. If I go to jail, I can check on our people in there and get some intel. It will bolster my reputation. If I get off on the charges, which is what I expect, then all of this drama is unnecessary.
I text Matteo.
Dad’s wrong. Stand down.
Mateo replies, too late.
Fuck!
I almost throw something across the room—almost.
Then I lift my gaze and see a damn squirrel of a cop. Young. Fresh out of the academy. Wide-eyed and way too eager.
He salutes me. Fucking salutes.
“Don’t worry, I’m a good guy. The rules will be easy, you know? Just stay in the house and don’t throw things.”
Jesus Christ.
He’s not our rat. He’s a lamb dropped into the lion’s den. A clueless, disposable lackey sent here to be cannon fodder.
By my fucking father.
The kid fidgets. “I need to give my mom a call. She’ll worry.”
Fuck.
They could have sent some hardened asshole—no family, no ties. The kind of loose-cannon cop no one would miss. The kind that wouldn’t make me hesitate.
Maybe then I’d fall in line. But this kid? This kid reminds me of Luca. And now, the weight settles. How many sons have I killed? How many fathers? Brothers? Best friends?
How many people have whispered prayers for the dead I put in the ground?
Even women. Some of them had to go, too.
I sit down.
Because for the first time in a long time… I feel the number.
Fucking Luisa. Getting in my head. Making me think about this shit instead of just getting things done. Move forward. Survive. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked.
But now—guilt.
An emotion I’ve never had to deal with. And suddenly, twenty years of arson, assault, and murder are clawing at me like they matter.
I exhale. “I need a drink.”
“Yeah, no worries,” the cop says.
I can’t ask his name. I don’t want to hear him telling his Mom he’ll bring her medicine tomorrow. I don’t want to listen to a conversation I’ll never have with mine.. I didn’t get the chance to be a good son to her.
My phone dings and I know it’s Mateo starting the countdown. One hour. That’s what that warning is. When the cop comes back in, I motion to dinner, then slip out the back door to call Emilia.
It’s a risk. I know that, but I memorized her number for a reason. If I do this, I’m a traitor. If I do this, I’m as much a stranger to my father as she is. I will be ignoring my blood ties ... but I’ll be protecting the mafia. I’ll be protecting the people that rely on us.
There are more important things than blood.
“Hello–One second, Paperotta. You’re doing well with spelling. You don’t need me–Hello?” Emilia asks.
I’ve never heard her voice so soft and warm for anyone. I sigh. “And you said you wouldn’t be a good mother.”
Her silence answers me.
“No kind words for your big brother?”
“What do you want?” she demands.
“I want you to put your detective to work,” I admit.
“If this is a fucking test, or if you’re going to try to–no, don’t say that word, your dad will ...” Emilia sighs. “Well, now I’m in trouble with said detective. I’m not putting him in danger.”
“Father’s trying to make me a ghost and doesn’t care about the fallout. There’s an innocent kid here on his first job as a cop,” I whisper.
“And you care?”
“Shockingly, yes. This is a stupid plan and I know you see it too. This only serves Dad. It’s a stupid play because he thinks we’re going to die and his legacy will be gone.”
“You’ve always been his favorite little soldier. Why are you rebelling now?” Emilia asks.
I grit my teeth. “Guilt’s a bitch.”
“Yeah. Welcome to the traitor’s side. Right now, though, Eric is at work. They know something’s going on, but you know how to deal with this kind of attack. You know how they’re going to approach, how they’ll throw themselves into action.”
“Of course I do, so-”
“Use it against them, Angelo. I shouldn’t have to spell it out. Haven’t I proven that knowledge is power? You know the weaknesses in the plan. You know your home’s layout. Make them regret ruining what you’ve built,” Emilia orders.
The sound of that, of even a slight bit of revenge, lifts my spirits. “Talk to you soon, sister.”
“I’ll fake cry at your funeral if you fail,” she promises.
“So loving,” I say.
I take a breath, then watch the clock count down as I check my accounts, make sure that my safe is secure, ensure that my important items are insured even though I’m sure they won’t survive.
When we’re down to two minutes before the attack, I grab the officer and motion to the pool, telling him he’s welcome to use it.
He says something about not being able to swim and a shot is fired. It rips through glass, but the second one comes faster than I plan and rips through my arm. I hiss, then throw the officer in the pool.
I dive after him, but hold him down, motioning for him to calm as gunshots shake the ground.
After a long moment, I pull the cop up to the surface, hear someone yell in Italian and look at the cop. “Take a deep breath.”
He doesn’t question it. He obeys and I crowd him against the wall, protecting him with my body. It’s going to be a long night.