Chapter 18 – Magnum
Chapter Eighteen
Magnum
Being trapped in a car with Moretti isn’t the highlight of my day. He doesn’t bring a driver or guards, and it feels a lot like he doesn’t want an audience if he tries to take me out.
I guess we’ll see exactly how tightly Vanessa has him wrapped around her little finger.
If nothing else, I appreciate that the man isn’t trying to delegate my murder to one of his underlings. It would be a lot easier and less risky to order a minion to do it, but if he wants me dead, I respect that he’s willing to do it himself and get his hands dirty.
I’m surprised he fits into the expensive little sports car that he whips around the icy roads like he has a death wish. He’s got an inch or two in height on me, and my legs are cramped, no matter how far back I moved the seat.
He doesn’t even turn on the radio, and the quiet gets under my skin.
I’m chatty by nature.
My teachers wanted me to be tested for ADHD, but my parents didn’t have money for shit like that. Not to mention, my dad wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type. If I had been tested, and it came back that I did have ADHD, he would have beat my ass and told me to act right.
It’s logically fucking impossible to beat the hyperactivity out of someone, but my father was never rational. Hell, if he had looked closely, he would have realized that it’s genetic, and Johnny and I inherited it from him. He’s the one who taught us to self-medicate.
By the time I was sixteen, I was doing lines with him and my older brothers.
That fondness for uppers is probably the only reason I actually graduated.
No one could figure out why my grades skyrocketed my junior and senior year, but I knew why.
It was the first time in my life that I could actually focus and retain what I read.
“Vanessa likes you,” Moretti says, shifting gears seamlessly. “You must be fond of her if you were willing to break into my home. Under any other circumstances, finding you on my property would have been a death sentence.”
What went down at the mansion doesn’t even count as a successful break-in.
I spent a fair amount of time thinking about that last night as Vanessa snored against my chest. The high was the same because I made it into somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, but real jobs have requirements that I didn’t hit.
Sneaking in as an uninvited guest isn’t anywhere close to what I normally have to do. I spend days, sometimes weeks, staking out a target, learning the ins and outs of how their security runs and scouting for structural weaknesses.
“The last time I saw Vanessa, she was scared. She thought she was about to be married off to a monster without her consent,” I say, letting the double meaning hang in the air. “I wasn’t going to be able to relax until I checked on her.”
“Vanessa is more than capable of looking after herself,” he says, and it’s a battle not to roll my eyes. “It’s one of the main attributes that drew me to her. When she was backed into a corner, she came to me, knowing I wouldn’t simply leave her to Grigoryan.”
She told me as much that day in the hotel, but for whatever reason, the night of the engagement party, she didn’t seem to have much faith in Moretti coming to her rescue.
“That’s the difference between smothering someone’s ability to protect themselves and offering a safety net,” Moretti says. “Boston isn’t as lawless as it once was, but all the families have enemies. I’m no different. You’ll do her a disservice by acting like she’s helpless.”
“You assigned her a full-time bodyguard. All the families have security that lives on site,” I say, trying to decode his riddle-filled speech.
“I did,” Moretti agrees. “That’s the safety net.
Take my words at face value when I say this.
Vanessa grew up in the lifestyle. She’s not a damsel in distress.
She doesn’t need you to save her. I’ve already done that.
If you’re only here out of some misguided white-knight syndrome, you should leave.
I’ll drop you off at your vehicle, and you can drive off into the sunset—no hard feelings. ”
“I bet you’d like that,” I say, shoving my hair away from my face. It immediately falls back into place, and I contemplate whether it’s time to get a haircut. “I doubt your wife would feel the same.”
Moretti cuts his eyes at me, and I barely hold back the laugh that aches to escape.
I live for this shit.
“That’s the thing, Magnum.” He focuses back on the road, making the car purr as he ups the speed. “She is my wife.”
Now is probably not the time to remind him that’s only the case because he falsified her signature on their marriage license. She likes him better than the other guy she almost ended up with, but that shit still rubs me the wrong way.
His attitude doesn’t make him any more likeable.
“And while she seems willing to give you a chance, I’m not so sure.
” Moretti whips the car around a curve, taking a turn into an area I’m familiar with.
It’s the only way into the neighborhood that dead-ends at the gate to Vanessa’s family’s home.
“I value loyalty above anything else. If I give you an order, I need to know I can trust you to follow through. Without that assurance, you’re of no use to me. ”
“I’m here for Vanessa, not because I’m trying to join your organization,” I tell him, not even trying to cushion my words.
“Then we’ll forever be at an impasse,” he says flatly.
“A pack will be necessary to accommodate Vanessa’s sexual needs.
I’m doing my best to make that transition as easy as possible for her.
But at the end of the day, she is my wife.
She’ll carry my heirs. I won’t share with anyone that I can’t trust not to stab us in the back. ”
My eyes narrow.
I hate hearing him use the word us like it’s them against me.
I would never hurt her.
Him?
That’s a different story, and he knows as much.
He gets under my skin.
Though, to be fair, I probably do the same shit to him.
Moretti takes the final turn, and we approach the gate to the Chapmans’ mansion.
“Why are we here?” I ask, nodding out the window.
“You made it into the Chapman compound and back out again without being noticed,” he says calmly. “Twice, if what Patrick said was accurate.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Truthfully, it wasn’t even that hard. I watched the house for close to forty-eight hours with the hope I could catch Vanessa leaving the property. It would have been easier to approach her outside the gate, but the only time she left, her father and several guards accompanied her.
The only way to get to her was to get inside the mansion. The back fence is twelve feet, but there’s a vine growing on one corner. I used that as my access point, and once I was inside, it was a game of avoiding the cameras and the guys doing security rounds.
“Perfect,” Moretti says. “I’d like you to walk me through that.”
“Why?” I ask. “You want to break in?”
“I do not,” he says coolly. “This is your chance to impress me. Consider it an olive branch. One I wouldn’t take for granted.”
My eyes narrow as he drives past the gate that blocks access to the long driveway that weaves up to the mansion.
Olive branch, my ass.
He’s a condescending dick.
At the same time, he will be a problem if I blow him off.
I have plans to spend a considerable amount of time exploring Vanessa’s soft little body. Making an enemy of her husband will only make that goal more difficult.
“The guardhouse always has three guys—two of which are highly armed,” I say, trying to keep the animosity out of my tone.
“The third plays nice, coming out to receive any packages. In the two days I watched the property, no one was allowed inside to drop off deliveries. They’re handed off at the gate… ”
Moretti listens intently, circling the neighborhood three times as I tell him all the pertinent information.
Once he’s satisfied, he drives off without saying a word.
The trip to wherever we’re going is equally silent, and it grates on me.
Would it kill the man to put on the radio?
If I had my earbuds, I’d pop them in and listen to a murder mystery podcast or something.
“Are you familiar with this area?” he asks, pulling onto a street I’ve never been on before.
This neighborhood also has spaced-out, multi-million-dollar mansions.
“No,” I say simply.
If I were trying to get into one of these places, I’d hit it during the day—unless I knew the family was out of town. It’s early afternoon, and most of the houses will be empty due to the owners working weekdays.
“I keep tabs on the other Boston families,” Moretti says.
“Not because I care what they do with their time, but because it’s good business to know one’s enemies.
We don’t micromanage one another. Everyone is free to deal in what they wish, whether it be drugs, guns, secrets, or gambling, but there is one pie off-limits in Boston—human trafficking.
Someone has broken that accord, and I believe Grigoryan is who we have to thank for that particular brand of ugliness. ”
My head whips in his direction, and his face is deathly serious.
Shit.
I’m not the most upstanding citizen. I never would have survived in the MC if I wasn’t willing to break a few laws from time to time, but human trafficking is the lowest form of evil.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find any hard evidence of his crimes,” Moretti says. “The entrance to Grigoryan’s property will be coming up on the right. Give it a look over. See if anything stands out.”
“You want to know if I can break into the mansion owned by the guy selling human beings?” I scoff. “Probably, but why the fuck would I want to?”
“Spend a while daydreaming about what he would have done to Vanessa had he gotten his hands on her,” Moretti says, his voice deathly calm. “See if your stance on the matter changes.”
Fuck, man.
I hate that he knows he has me.