ALESSIO #2
"Well, well," Flea drawls, a slow grin spreading across his scarred face.
"You've been holding out on us, Lenny’s boy.” He turns to Beccs, and I'm ready to rip his heart out for looking at her.
It takes more restraint than I thought myself capable of not to.
“You didn’t tell us you're dating this one. "
Beccs tenses under my arm but keeps her voice light. "Didn't think it mattered."
"Oh, it matters," I say, tightening my hold on her waist as I meet Flea's gaze. "Doesn't it, Flea?"
Flea chuckles, but his eyes are sharp, assessing.
As far as he knows, I'm still just Lenny's kid, some casino manager who got lucky and made a few bucks working for those Italian guys.
He has no clue I'm one of the men who actually run this city.
Good thing these assholes don't read the papers and sure as hell don't watch the news.
My name pops up less than Massimo's or Gabe's, but the Consulate Casino I own has been laundering money for years.
In their small minds, I'm still nobody of consequence. Perfect.
I lean down and brush my lips against Beccs' temple, mostly for show, but the way she shivers makes my cock twitch. "Go back to work, baby. Flea and I need to have a talk."
She flares a glare at me hot enough to burn, but she's sharp enough not to voice it with Reapers—especially Flea—watching. Smart girl. My smart, reckless girl.
Flea and I both watch her walk away. That ass in those tight jeans sways with every step, and my mouth waters. I can't wait to get every inch of her naked. To see her in all her glory. To spread her out and remind her exactly who she belongs to now.
Once she disappears toward the bar, Flea turns back to me. "What do you want to talk about? Need a job?"
I'm two seconds from choking the smug bastard out. On second thought… that would give me the perfect in.
I shrug, keeping my expression bored. "Couldn't hurt."
Flea studies me for a long beat, that calculating glint in his eyes never fading.
"Couldn't hurt, huh?" He lets out a low chuckle, slapping me on the shoulder like we're old pals.
"Alright, kid. We'll see what you got. Bar's always a shitshow on weekends.
You can start helping out back there tonight. See how you handle the animals."
I nod once, masking the storm raging inside me. Working here is the last thing I want, but it's the fastest way in. Close to Razor and Flea. Close to answers about my mother. And—most importantly—close to Beccs.
"Appreciate it," I nod.
Flea jerks his chin toward the main room. "Go on then. Your girl's probably got her hands full."
I don't need to be told twice. I head back out, eyes immediately locking on her behind the bar.
She's pouring shots, ponytail swinging, that innocent face a fucking weapon in this den of wolves.
A couple of Reapers are leaning over the bar, laughing too loud, eyes glued to her tits.
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. She glances up, catches me watching, and her eyes narrow in clear warning. Behave.
Too fucking late for that.
I slide onto a stool at the end of the bar, close enough to keep an eye on every bastard who looks at her too long. She slides a beer in front of me without asking, lips pressed in a tight line.
"Thought you had important mafia shit to do," she mutters under her breath as she wipes the counter.
I lean in, voice low enough for only her to hear. "Turns out my important shit just got a new priority. You."
Her cheeks flush, but she rolls her eyes again, that catlike defiance making my blood run hot. "I had it handled, Alessio. I don't need a knight in a thousand-dollar suit showing up to mark territory."
I catch her wrist as she reaches for a glass, thumb stroking over her pulse. "You're in Reaper territory now, babe. My territory too, whether you like it or not. And I don't share."
She yanks her hand back, but not before I see the flicker of heat in her eyes. That same wariness mixed with something deeper. Something that looks a hell of a lot like want.
The night drags on in a haze of loud music, cheap liquor, and the constant itch under my skin to drag her into the back room and remind her exactly who she belongs to.
Every time a Reaper gets too friendly, my hand curls into a fist. Every time she bends over to grab a bottle, my cock strains against my zipper.
By the time the bar starts to clear out, I'm wound so tight I'm ready to snap.
Beccs finally wipes her hands and comes around the bar, stopping in front of me with her arms crossed.
"Shift's over," she informs me. "You planning on stalking me home too?"
I stand slowly, towering over her, and lean down until my lips brush her ear.
"Baby, I'm not stalking you," I murmur, dark and rough. "I'm keeping what's mine."
She shivers. And for the first time tonight, she doesn't argue.
The night air outside the clubhouse feels almost clean compared to the stench inside. I keep my hand on the small of Beccs's back as I lead her across the lot toward the Shelby, my fingers pressing just hard enough to remind her—and anyone still watching—exactly who she's leaving with.
Her eyes widen the second she sees the sleek black car. "You still have it?"
I grin, opening the passenger door for her. "After you had your hands on it? You’re goddamn right I still have it."
I wait until she slides in, then lean down to buckle her seatbelt myself, my knuckles deliberately brushing the swell of her breast. She huffs but doesn't pull away. I round the car, climb in, and fire up the engine. The low growl fills the silence between us as I pull out.
"That's not the way to my place," she objects after a few minutes, glancing over at me.
"You're coming to my place," I tell her flatly. "I have questions."
"Oh goodie," she quips in a voice that drips with sarcasm. "So do I. Like how in the hell did you find me? Are you stalking me, Vitali?"
I laugh lowly, and the sound echoes roughly through the dark interior of the car. "Babe, from where I'm standing, it's the other way around. You're the one who showed up in my world."
She huffs again and crosses her arms, but I catch the way her thighs press together. The tension between us is thick enough to cut.
We reach the Consulate. I pull into the private garage and kill the engine. The second we step into the casino, my men materialize like shadows. Beccs' eyebrow lifts at the sudden presence, but she stays quiet.
We're halfway to the private elevator when a man in a plain suit approaches. I stiffen instantly. My guards step forward, but I wave them off with a small gesture.
The man holds up a plain brown envelope, palms open. "I mean no harm."
He stops just close enough and leans in, voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear. "El Recaudador sends his regards."
My blood turns to ice. I stare at him, memorizing every feature. The man gives a polite nod, then turns and disappears into the crowd like he was never there.
I jerk my head toward one of my guys. "Follow him. Find out who he is, who he works for, when he takes a shit. Do not let him out of your sight."
"Yes, boss." The guard melts into the crowd.
Beccs lifts an eyebrow at me, full of questions. I shake my head once, guiding her toward the private elevator with a hand at her lower back. "Not here."
The doors slide shut behind us. The second we're alone, the tension snaps back into place, hotter, darker, more dangerous than before. I crowd her against the mirrored wall, one hand braced beside her head as the elevator rises.
"You're going to tell me exactly what the fuck you're doing at the Black Canyon Reapers' clubhouse, Beccs," I growl, voice low.
Her breath catches, and her eyes flash with defiance. I'll get the truth out of her, one way or another. Because this night… is far from over.