Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
ENZO
"Thanks, Silas," I mutter to myself as much as to him. "This place really is a gem. Perfect for hiding out in."
"Simon. And you should sort your shit out, starting with the truth to your woman—"
"Not mine," I say, but it is not as convincing as I would like it to be. "And I know it is Simon."
"You need to tell her the truth, man. Before it bites you in the ass."
"Don't you have things to do? Because I need you back here later."
He heads to his car. "Hey, I'm not the one with fuckwits trying to kill me or my girl."
He gets in his car and guns the motor, then heads out.
And my phone beeps.
The clever fucker used other clever fuckers to make this place even more secure than my brownstone, which is up there in terms of security.
And even though the driveway sensors didn't set alarms off, it still let me know he crossed the perimeter.
I don't have something like this, but...I might just get it installed. Make my place more secure with another layer of protection.
Of course, if someone comes with battering rams, a tank, and guns blazing, there is not much to do but shoot back and make sure everyone defenseless is in a safe room.
Silas being Simon, he thought of that, and he has two safe rooms on each floor and a big one in his subbasement.
Maybe it is overkill, but that is Silas for you. And this place is meant to be a safe house. His.
Fuck, he probably just comes here to disappear from the world.
So, it is great when I have got my kid sister and Lola in tow.
Lola, who has someone after her.
Someone who found out Lourdes Mancini was in hiding at my place.
Hopefully, no one will find us here.
Hopefully?
I'm almost one hundred percent sure.
Which is good.
Because I figure ninety percent up is a good place, and I never say never or that something is a hundred percent safe.
It is such a nice, sunny morning, and the perimeter is secure, and really, I have got a day of waiting unless someone in the Syndicate hits the jackpot of information for me, so I would love nothing more than to take Lola to the beach.
It is not quite hot enough, but fuck it, it would make her nipples stand to attention. And I would bet she would rock the fuck out of a bikini.
But even sitting around and waiting doesn't mean doing nothing. I can do things. Like try to dive into what is on my mind.
It is not Lola in a bikini.
Not totally.
I need to dive into things, too. Search the corners of the dark web and the web in general. We have all got our skills, and if enough people look, someone is gonna stumble on something I can use.
I would love to find out who the fuck her father owed.
Or find the one after Lola, that is, because even with the digging I have done, shit before that, he owed a lot of people.
It is why the bastard killed himself. That, and the authorities on him. But something tells me it was that he didn't want to face something worse than death. Like torture. Or watching his daughter—
I don't go down that dark, bleak path.
With Silas now gone for the time being, I return to the kitchen.
Silas has got loose ends on a hacking job to see to, a job he was in the middle of before I pulled him away with the break-in and cleanup and need to find a place to keep my sister and Lola safe while I sort everything out.
A coffee, a good one, and some work—
I stop.
My computer has been moved. Not a lot, and it looks like she tried to put it back in the same place. She, meaning Lola.
I know it wasn't Lyndall, as classical music still drifts down the stairs.
Instead of touching the computer, I go to the study where Lola is.
She has the work set out, and she is doing it. Work I don't fucking need done at all. Work that a number of the employees at Barwon could do.
She doesn't look up.
Lola knows I'm there, and her cheeks tinge pink as my cock starts to harden at the sight of her.
She has her hair pulled back, some of the curling strands falling free, and she looks fucking delicious in my clothes.
There is really something to be said for clothes that are a bit big, and I think I discovered that out in the kitchen earlier this morning when I fingered her to orgasm.
"Want to go into town to get some clothes?"
I think some loose dresses, lingerie. Fuck, she could have jeans, too. But I like her a little business-y as it gets my power dynamic fantasies rolling.
Fuck. It is not just the Alex side that loves the power play. It is me. It is buried in me, and I can see with perfect clarity how the kink of power and control over Lola plays right into the kink of denial.
Denying her is denying me.
Maybe it is the denial of her not knowing it is me. Or robbing her of sight.
I'm hit with the idea of a latex mask and breathing tube, submerging her in a bath while I order her not to move, order her to part her thighs so I can finger-fuck her.
I want to tie her up so she can't move, order her not to speak and see if I can make her come just from breast play.
Oh fuck, yeah. It opens so many possibilities, from the deeply controlling to the run-of-the-mill: ordering her to stay still, to suck my cock, to get me off, and then make her wait.
But then that goes into me denying myself for the better payoff down the road.
Lola just types, eyes on the screen, and I go into the study and move behind her, sliding my hand down the t-shirt, into her bra, to tweak her nipple.
And she lets out the smallest moan as her nipples grow even harder.
Because she was aware of me the moment I stepped into the room. And she was turned on by me.
"Stop that," she says. "I'm working."
For a moment, I almost keep going because she didn't say "blue banana."
But then it hits me. Blue fucking banana is her and Alex.
So, I stop, pulling my hand up to the top of her chest.
"We can't leave your sister here." She wiggles a little to try to shake me off her.
So, I act like the gentleman I'm not and step away.
It strikes me she is being stiff as she types, stiff before I stepped in and touched her. So, what if she isn't actually working?
I lean down so I can peek at the computer, but she really is working.
I turn my attention to her.
"Lyndall would be coming. I'm not a fool."
This time, she glares at me. "I'm working."
"We could play boss and underling," I murmur. "And you could get on your knees..."
She gets pinker and shoves me. "Go away."
I straighten.
Okay, okay, she is mad. I have got work to do, like checking my computer to make sure she hasn't been snooping because I'm an idiot who didn't lock it earlier.
Back in the kitchen, I wake my computer and check it, but apart from a feeling that she snooped, there is nothing hacked, nothing in the memory...
"Fuck." I go to the espresso machine and grind coffee and make myself a cup.
Unlike my sister's, the coffee I make is good, rich, strong, and smooth, and I sit down, trying to work, but I can't.
Lola is clearly mad at me. So, I send her a text from Alex.
Me
Want to play? I will be Enzo, and you can be my sweet little sub...
And then I remember I told her not to answer her phone.
She doesn't.
Which strangely both makes me breathe a sigh of relief and also annoys the fuck out of me.
Her phone is probably off, like I told her to keep it.
But still...
I get up, unable to concentrate, and I make her coffee, too.
Then I bring it to her.
She looks at it and then at me and puts her head down to continue the work.
I clear my throat. "Lola?"
She doesn't answer.
"Lola."
Still no answer.
"For fuck's sake. Lola. Look at me."
She takes her sweet ass time doing just that, and I grit my teeth.
Yeah, she is pissed off at me.
"Sorry, I got a little...touchy earlier."
"Which time?"
I suck in a breath. "Okay, maybe I deserved the scolding for the second time, but you were into it in the kitchen."
"That was..." She hesitates. "Then. This is now. I'm trying to earn a wage."
"Like I'm not going to fucking pay you? I will give you a fucking bonus."
"I don't want a bonus. And I don't want a fucking bonus, that would be inappropriate."
I bite down on a laugh. I get the double entendre, but I'm not sure she thinks it is as funny as I do.
And then I get it.
Why she is so upset with me.
I soften my voice. "Lola, I'm really sorry."
"For what?"
"For not telling you earlier about the threat. I should have. I just..."
"It's fine. And thank you. Also, thanks for the coffee." She gestures to the computer. "Can I get back to work, please?"
"Sure. I will see about lunch."
"Breakfast is just done, Enzo."
I nod, scanning the desk.
Her bag is on a chair, not near her, and in it is the corner of her phone peeking out.
"Just remember to stay off your phone," I say lamely.
"One doesn't forget threats and warnings," she says.
With that, I just leave the room and get to work.
Thing is, as the hours pass, I can hear her and Lyndall laughing and chatting in the living room. When I go in, she leaves, and Lyndall looks at me like I just massacred an entire room of puppies and kittens.
"What?" I ask.
"What?" she mimics. Then she jumps up, hands on hips. "Maybe you should be nicer to Lola, and you will have a great girlfriend."
"I'm not looking for a girlfriend."
"Because she's too good for you."
"No," I say dangerously. "Because I don't want one. This is a protection mission, not a girl-getting mission."
She rolls her eyes and stomps out, following Lola.
I go back to work, but every time I cross paths with Lola, she is cool and distant and finds something else to do.
She doesn't want any more coffee when I offer it. She doesn't want a snack. And it is too early for lunch.
But when Lyndall breezes in and makes PB and J sandwiches, I can hear fucking Lola's response to an apparently offered sandwich.
"Thanks, you're a sweetheart, Lyndall. I'm starving."
"Fuck." I dip my head to scour more of the internet.
Even my sister doesn't offer me one. Not that I want one, but it is the principle.
But if Lola is still mad at me for not telling her about the threat sooner, then there is one thing I can do.
Give her space.
She clearly needs to cool off.
And it will give me a chance to focus. If I can uncover one of the men's identities, it will help.
I know where they found out about the job, but beyond that...
I still have the wallet.
No ID, no cards. But now I pull it apart, and a jolt of adrenaline hits.
In a hidden slot is a receipt for the fucking wallet and something else. A razor?
He got them at a bodega, cheap pieces of crap, but the bodega, as I hack into the CCTV, has footage, and there he is. With a beard.
And something clicks in my head.
I have seen him before.
While I don't really remember his name because I don't ever hire thugs like him, I think it is something or other Riviera, and he has a rap sheet.
But I don't look at the police one. I look for his photo on the dark web, and when I find it, there are some choice aliases.
Knuckles R. Riviera No Stains, to name two.
I really don't want to know about the second one, but armed with a list, I search the places where he has put himself out there for hire.
I sit back an hour later, rubbing a hand down my face.
Dude is a bad dude, so I really don't care I killed him and his friend. But he is mainly into chopping up and getting rid of body parts, making concrete boots and their equivalent, and beating the shit out of people.
Killing, too. But he is no assassin.
And while I'm pretty fucking sure Dom Rebecci hired him...some of the jobs under Rebecci's belt sure sound like this guy, I'm not sure if he was hired to do the job at my place by Dom.
And if he was...I don't have enough to link the two.
Not directly. Not in any capacity.
Well, fuck, I would know if I had kept Riviera alive and then tortured the information out of him. But hey, hindsight and all that bullshit.
My phone lights up, and Cade's name flashes.
"Give me something good," I say.
"Got a lead from Zayne. He pulled some strings."
Zayne is a hacker who is also a cop. And a member of the Syndicate. He actually put my uncle in his place once, which took some fucking balls.
"What kind of strings?"
"Ones that convince someone who works for Rebecci to talk."
I sit up. "Really?"
"Yeah, but the caveat is he will only do it in person. Zayne swears if anyone knows if Dom's our man, then it is this guy."
"And he will speak to me?"
"He will speak to you. Lower East Side. At Jupiter Bar."
"How soon can you be here?" I ask.
Jupiter Bar doesn't like non-drinkers, which I get. It is a bar. But even in the daytime, it is seedy as fuck, and I sit with my whiskey, pretending to play with my phone.
I'm not. I'm bugging the shit out of Cade.
Me
I have been here two fucking hours, man.
Cade
I'm shocked you haven't fucked your way through the girls there.
Asshole.
Me
Out of my league. Invited your wife to come down and blow me in the bathroom.
Cade
Really? Because I'm balls deep in Lola.
Two can play that game, cocksucker.
And say that about Violet again, and you won't have a dick to get into trouble with.
It will make Cancun look like a dream.
Me
It's full of fly and booze-bitten people here. Fuck.
I wait about twenty more minutes and order another drink.
No one has approached me at all, and no one has come in looking like they are searching for someone. They all want the bar and a drink and nothing more.
Fuck. Again.
I text Zayne.
Me
Where is this fucker?
Zayne
I can't get hold of the guy now. Hold up.
Another ten minutes pass, and he texts again.
Zayne
There's a good chance he bailed and ran. Sorry, Enz. He's done it before, but he might show.
Me
It would have been fucking handy to know this was going to be a waste of time.
Zayne
Sorry, I will try again, but I'm at work.
I text Cade and tell him what went down.
Cade
Don't know, man. Give it another half hour? You're already there in Manhattan, and everything's good here.
Me
Fine, but if he's not here by then, I'm leaving.