Chapter 13
Hadley
Oh, the wicked games we play. Am I absolutely fucking myself over right now? Yes.
Do I care to stop the crash course we are on? Not right this second.
His tongue parts my pussy lips before he allows his teeth to graze the sensitive flesh. I grip his hands that are laced in mine, preventing him from releasing them. If I’m going to do this, allow him to have his way with my body, then I’m damn well going to enjoy every moment of it. And if I can make those moments last longer, even better.
My legs tremble in anticipation as his mouth begins a slow and delicate torture against my swollen and throbbing core.
“Talk,” he encourages against my mound, the vibration shooting directly through me.
“I have decided,” I mutter as he licks, sucks, and nips at my lips, teasing my opening with his tongue. This is a delightful and delicious pleasure that I don’t want to stop, even though deep inside, I know this is a dangerous game I’m playing with myself.
“Mmm, hmm,” he rumbles against me, “and what have you decided?”
“You came to the diner for me. You don’t do anything without purpose.”
He pauses only for a moment, but it’s enough to give me the answer I sought. See, in all this craziness of needing to defend myself, off-road chases, and then finding myself in a mafia boss’s bed, I can’t help but feel like there is a reason Massimo Costa inserted himself into my world. Sometimes a hesitation gives more of a response than any words can provide. His slight delay tells me I’m onto something.
Since he’s not giving me anything, I press on with the questions. “What I want to know is why me?”
He continues this slow tease of my body. “I think it’s a bit presumptuous to say I went to the diner for you. Amos happens to like the pancakes, as you know.”
Pancakes, my ass. Gilbert is a nice man but not the best cook. He is good at short-order diner food that isn’t anything standout. There is no way this is about getting Amos pancakes. And Amos is right, Greta makes the best pancakes around. Not a chance they come to Clyde’s for pancakes.
Heat rushes through me as I fight to keep focused on getting answers all while my body wants to build into release. “Greta makes pancakes that Gilbert can’t touch. Amos is not why you come to the diner.”
He laughs against me as he flicks his tongue against my swollen nub. Rather than reply, he sucks gently on my clit as his tongue darts inside me. My hips arch into his face, wanting more. He isn’t denying that he comes to the diner for me. I try to remain focused on getting the answers I seek.
Keeping my mind on getting information is hard. Unable to deny the sensations of pleasure, I release his hands. Immediately, one cups my breast, tweaking my nipple while the other joins his tongue inside me.
“Then why come in every day?”
His head backs away, the darkness of his eyes meets my gaze as his fingers move in and out of me slowly while he presses his thumb against my clit. Vibration soars through me as I feel myself climbing to the edge of release.
“I like the coffee,” he mutters as I laugh out loud.
“Okay, what we won’t do here is lie. Black coffee is black coffee in a diner. The shit is basic. Don’t play me for na?ve or stupid because I am neither of those.”
“In your life, you haven’t been able to trust anything except what is right in front of your face, correct?”
His words settle deep in my soul as my hips rock into his hand even as I try to hold back. I don’t think people, in general, should trust. Regardless of where I come from or what I have experienced, trust shouldn’t be expected or come easy for anyone.
“Trust is a hard thing. Respect is an easier thing to give before trust,” I tell him honestly, rolling my hips.
“You are a wise woman, Hadley.”
Thinking about it all, the words tumble out, “I have a feeling you might know more about my life than I do.”
Massimo pulls his fingers from me, backs away, and strips down without responding to my comment. My body is on fire with need as he comes back down, pressing his weight over me, settling between my thighs.
His large dick aligns against me, pressing in as he braces above me. I look into his gaze, and our eyes lock in a way where I want to read him, but there is something being held back between us.
“Your past life is behind you, Hadley,” he speaks softly, gliding inside me to the hilt. He presses his lips to mine, kissing me senseless quickly. Breaking away, I’m whimpering.
“I thought we were having a good time talking,” I tease with a smile.
His face grows serious. “You come, it’s with me inside you.”
Those last words don’t register before his mouth crashes to mine, and he begins moving in and out at a relentless pace. I find myself gripping his arms, then his back, as thrust for thrust he seems to plant himself inside me more.
I feel him over every inch of my body as my hips jut up in rhythm with him, as my body tenses before the orgasm crashes through me just before his hot seed fills me.
He drops his head to my neck while still planted in me, trying to catch his breath. “You’re mine, Hadley, and that’s all that matters. Not what came before.”
My mind goes crazy. What does this mean? What exactly came before in my life? What does he know?
“Massimo,” I whisper, “what are we doing?”
He lifts up, and his dark eyes lock onto mine, “Whatever the fuck feels right. And this shit,” he rocks his hips, his dick hardening inside me, “feels fucking right.”
After another orgasm, I can’t hold my eyes open any longer as I drift to sleep in Massimo’s arms, wondering what comes next.
Massimo
The information in front of me taunts me. I’m in my home office. Leaving a satiated Hadley in my bed was not easy but necessary. She is asking questions—the right ones even—except I don’t have all of the information to give her the answers she seeks just yet.
The clock on my desk illuminates, reflecting the time of three in the morning. Normal people are sleeping soundly in their beds, unaware of the cruel realities of the underworld going on all around. But not me.
I don’t care if you live in a big city or a sleepy suburb like Uncertain, Texas , there are people in charge everywhere and not just the law-abiding sort of authority. It is my business to stay on top of everyone within my organization. That is why this particular set of information is alarming.
Critical error on my part.
I don’t trust.
Ever.
Gio knows better. Longevity to the family or not, he’s going to understand and be made an example of once I sort all of this. Gio is one of five employees left from the original Uccello organization. He has always been loyal to me. Only lately have I taken notice of some changes in his behavior. Actions speak. A man changing his routine, not giving true accounts of his location, and missing meetings are telling to everyone, including me. Those infractions have sent me on the hunt.
Information seeking is somewhat of a pastime for me but mostly necessary. I need to know my friends as well as I know my enemies or maybe even better. Looking into Gio, there are definitely things I have to get under control with him.
Why the influx of money? Why the inconsistency in his funds? More than that, every fucking transaction is cash .
I’m fond of cash myself. I have a safe full of it in each of my homes. I also have a bank account and legitimate businesses to filter funds through.
This, though, the way he’s moving his money is a glaring red flag. Not just the kind the government looks for, but the kind that has me asking questions.
I got too comfortable.
Early on when I took over, I literally checked everyone’s movements with trackers on their vehicles, as well as in the Rolex watches I gave them. I’ve also watched their bank accounts. Once everyone from the original crew became weeded down to Emilio, Gio, Tony, Rafe, and Marco, my diligence in inspection began to waver. Now, I see I shouldn’t have slipped up. Although, I must admit, I actually thought the betrayal was coming from someone I brought into the fold, not an original member I foolishly believed I could depend on.
Even Big John and my own brother, Emilio, had me questioning things about them.
In the end, the money trail never lies. Giovanni Marino was not a top man in the Uccello family, but he wasn’t new to the organization either.
Continuing to read the pages in front of me, it’s more than the money.
Gio has been doing something on the side for years, maybe even before I took over. It seems to have slowed for a bit, around ten years or so, the transactions weren’t as frequent and definitely not as lucrative.
What gets me is the lists of names.
Hundreds of them, maybe even thousands of names. A simple search of the internet leaves most of these listed people as missing or presumed dead. The red flags keep building, flashing at me no matter how much I grind my teeth as I dig.
The name staring at me, though, makes my hackles rise more than the others. While I prepared myself to know Hadley was tied to this crack in my organization, I was not in the least bit ready to know it ran this deep and wide.
Halona Tsosie.
A young Navajo infant taken from her parents while on vacation. Something her parents will forever regret is taking that trip. If they had remained on the reservation, they know without a doubt their daughter would still be with them.
Beside the name is a price: one thousand dollars. Then another name.
Tracing that second name leads to a man who’s been locked up for rape, child molestation, child neglect, crimes against a minor child under the age of five, and murder.
Colton Bernard is doing life for his crimes. The deep dive my attorney did into all of this gives me the case file from the courts. A minor who is not listed by name in any official documents is listed in the redacted ones he’s sent me.
That minor’s name is Hadley Bernard.
She was his victim.
The caseworker for child protective services made notes—extensive ones. The caseworker did not believe that Hadley was indeed Colton’s daughter but rather a child bought off the black market. Her birth certificate was never found or provided when the state stepped in to remove Hadley from his care. Her mother, whom he named, was dead, except the deep dive never proved that woman ever existed.
The layers to this are so many and so fucking complex.
Hadley is not Hadley, but rather Halona Tsosie, and she doesn’t even know it.
Does she remember living with Colton? The things he did to her? What scars have been left behind? My fists clench as I grind my molars, my heart beating so powerfully, I swear it’s going to rip right out of my fucking chest for my woman.
Page after page, name after name, there are so many of them, all with prices, and eventually a new family as I go down each and every scrap of information in front of me. How long has Gio been trafficking children? Did all of these kids end up in violent and demented families where they were violated in every imaginable way?
I want to kill him. Need it.
I want to do it so slowly that I can watch the life drain from his eyes as I personally send his very soul to hell, as he deserves. While I will never be an upstanding citizen and I will never claim to abide by any law, there are lines I don’t cross.
I don’t sell people.
I don’t kill children.
And I don’t allow anyone in my organization to do either of the above.