Chapter 5
Lucio
I t’s been a couple of days since I received the first text from whoever has been piling up dead bodies of the young women of New York’s elite, and my little stalker has gone silent.
There are five of us at the poker table. My Uncle Rodolfo, underboss of Maine. Vincent Junior, who was promoted to the new underboss of Baltimore after his traitor father was…disposed of. And two other Camorra soldiers.
Rodolfo leans over to me and says, “There are whispers within the Camorra.”
I keep my eyes on my cards, “How about everyone stops whispering and just speaks outright with their bullshit instead of this stupid dance of back and forth? What do you say, Uncle?”
Turning to look at him, I find him shaking his head at me.
“You don’t understand. There are rules for how things are done. Just because the world around us is changing, adapting doesn’t mean we follow suit.”
I roll my eyes at his bullshit. “If everyone thought the way you ancient dinosaurs think, then we’ll all still be using fucking stone tools.”
One of the soldiers snickers before he says, “Stop being so uptight. This is a poker game, not a political rally.”
“It still wouldn’t be a political rally if I stuck my dagger down your fucking throat, now, would it?”
The little smirks on their faces instantly drop.
My uncle, like the little bitch he is, turns to Vince and goads him. “Tell me, Vincent, don’t you think that the Camorra is perfectly fine as it is without the Capo and his entourage of progressives trying to revolutionize it?”
Vince doesn’t break a sweat. “I think you should stop being the gossip mill of whatever shit you’re trying to stir up and sit the fuck back and relax. Maybe even act your age.”
I drop my cards face-down on the table, pushing my chair back and standing up. “This shit is boring. I’m leaving.”
The other soldier, who has been quiet this entire time, speaks up. “But what about the money you’ve bet?”
Before I can answer, the other one chimes in and says, “No take-backsies.”
Fucking annoying and pathetic.
“The money I bet is no longer useful to me. You clowns forget that my family owns this casino.” I lean over, getting in the face of the guy who chimed in. “And maybe try hopping off my dick. It’s pissing me off.”
His face reddens, but he doesn’t say another word, his lips twisting as if he had sucked on a lemon.
I straighten my jacket and turn to Vince. “You staying Vince?”
Vincent drops his cards and grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair. “Nah. I think I’ll head out too.”
No one else speaks up as Vince and I walk out. Pulling out my cigarette pack, I offer him one. He takes it, and I pull one out with my teeth and bend toward the light Vincent holds up.
“Going straight home?” he asks me as I head toward my Roadster.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “It’s only two. I’m heading to the Helvegr club. Do you want to come?”
“Do I want to go to the most exclusive club, second only to Vault 61? Fuck yeah, man.”
Vince rounds the car to the passenger side, and I slide into the driver’s seat, revving the engine a couple of times before speeding out of the dark casino garage.
He doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, so I let him stew in his own thoughts as I think of the little stalker that I can’t seem to shake off.
I still haven’t told Emiliano—or anyone, for that matter—about the little break-in. It’s not like I owe him anything. None of those fuckers share anything with me anyway.
Vincent jolts forward when I press the brakes too fast and sounds like he’s choking for a second.
I ignore him and push my door open. The loud music can be heard from the outside; there’s a line of mostly young college kids.
They won’t get in, not if their parents are just ordinary folks.
Helvegr only allows politicians, socialites, and billionaires.
Just the elites with a net worth of at least five hundred million.
The only other way to get in is by association and the elites program.
Each founding member is allowed to nominate three people every ten years.
We don’t wait in line. I walk past Jim the bouncer that’s usually here on weekends and greet him.
“’Sup, Jimmy?”
He grunts. “Not much. Here to find another poor victim?”
I give him a wink. “They’re not victims if they’re willing. Besides, who you calling poor? They’re blessed to even witness my holy presence.”
“Yer the fucking devil, is what you are.” Jim’s strong southern drawl rarely happens unless he’s getting agitated, and I take it as my sign to get the fuck inside before he tries to throw me out.
I look back at Vince and say, “Come on before he tries to throw us out.”
Vault 61 is sophisticated, sleek, and modern, but Helvegr is chaos, corruption, and hell on earth.
At least for those who hate drugs, sex, and everything that screams trouble.
We walk in, and the music is so loud you can barely hear anything else.
Some new rap song comes on the speakers and loud cheers erupt throughout the entire place.
The hallway is dark save for the red neon lights that illuminates the path toward the actual club scene.
Vincent stays close behind, and we finally make it out of the hallway.
It’s packed—a swarm of bodies, sweaty, half naked, and dancing practically on top of each other. I can see a couple of people doing lines at the bar before downing shots.
Tapping Vince on the shoulder, I shout in his ear so he’s able to hear me over the music. “I’m going to go to the bar and grab a drink. Do whatever the fuck you want, but you better get your own ride. And don’t try cock-blocking me because I’ll cut yours off.”
Walking to the bar, I spot a brunette sitting with her friends. She’s tall, pretty, maybe early twenties. Her eyes meet mine: electric blue, a money piece, and a tight dress. She bites her lip, her eyes on me.
I give her a wink before I call Cody, my usual bartender, over. “You see that pretty girl with the money pieces, in the sparkly gray dress?”
He looks over, looks back at me, and shakes his head at me with a slight smirk. “She has a boyfriend. Or at least had one. They just broke up, but be careful. They break up and get back together all the time.”
“I don’t give a fuck if she has a boyfriend. That’s not why I pointed her out. Send her a drink. She looks like the type to drink an espresso martini. And get me a gin. Don’t add tonic this time, asshole. Last time you made me gin, it tasted like shit because of the fucking tonic.”
Cody shrugs as if to say not my problem and moves away to make the drinks. He passes me my drink before the other bartender walks to the girl. I watch as he slides the drink over to her and whispers in her ear. Her gaze cuts back to me; she raises the glass and tips her lips in a slight smirk.
Facing the bar, I down my drink. I’m not shocked when I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I look down at the girl with the money pieces. She’s about five-eight, maybe five-nine at most, but she barely makes it to the middle of my chest.
Raising my brows I act surprised to see her as I lean down and shout, “I’m guessing you liked the drink.”
She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear. “I did. Thank you.”
I move back just a little to gauge her expression. “What brings you here…”
I don’t care what her fucking name is, but most girls want conversation before you fuck them. I don’t mind providing that. That’s as far as they’ll get.
“Kaitlyn. My friends thought I needed a night out. I just got out of a toxic relationship.” She places her hand on my arm before asking, “What about you?”
I run my tongue over my lower lip and watch as her eyes flicker to my lips. Got her right where I fucking want her. Instead of lying to her, I tell her a half-truth.
“Looking for a good fuck.”
She’s sober enough for some blush to creep up her neck and settle over the bridge of her nose. But she’s got a buzz going, because she tucks her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes lazily roaming over my body. She doesn’t seem to be the bold kind. The quiet ones are always the freakiest.
I decide to test it and step back slightly from her instead of staying where she is. She steps closer until there’s no space between us and presses her body into me. I grit my teeth, debating whether to take her home or just fuck her in the club.
She doesn’t let me stew for too long because she leans over and says, “How about we get out of here and I show you how thankful I can be?”
I flash her a cocky smirk. “Head outside. I’ll close both our tabs. Wait for me right outside the door.”
She nods, sliding her purse off of the bar and pushing through the crowded club. I hail Cody over, and he shakes his head at me.
“Big fucking mistake, man. She’s a crazy one.”
“She’s not crazy, Cody. Besides, where the fuck did you hear that?”
He shrugs. “Her ex said she chased him with a fucking knife, bro.”
“Boys only call women crazy because they want to justify their actions and make it seem like they’re overreacting. He’s deflecting and gaslighting. Besides, I’m fucking her, not marrying her.” I hand him my AmEx. “Close both my tab and her friends’. Keep the card on file ’til they’re done.”
He walks off, and just as I’m about to turn and leave, my phone buzzes. I pull it out to see who’s texting me.
Unknown
She’s cute, but she won’t last the night. You never pick ones that do. Maybe next time, you’ll let me choose for you. I already know what you like.
Letting out a sardonic scoff, I ignore the text and head out. I spot Money Pieces by the door, waiting for me like I’d told her to.
I stir, groaning loudly at the headache that always finds its way into my mornings, it’s what I get for drinking and sleeping late. Cracking an eye open, I wince and slam my eyes shut again.
My apartment is quiet, almost too quiet. And I know for sure that in the split second I had an eye open, I saw someone’s silhouette next to me. Which means I, in theory, should be hearing some breathing. But the only sound that fills the space is the loud traffic right outside my window.
There’s no way .
But with the amount of bodies dropping left and right—and my name tying them all together—it’s not surprising that when my eyes fly open again, the girl from last night lies dead beside me. Her throat is sliced open, from one ear to the other.
Cursing under my breath, I jump out of bed. The scene in front of me is gruesome. I don’t fucking know how they managed to get in here and kill the girl without waking me up or causing much of a mess…apart from the spilled blood. All over my fucking Egyptian cotton.
I debate calling my brothers. Maybe Ramiro?
Fuck! I run a hand through my hair, and my phone buzzes on my bedside table. When I pick it up, my eyes skim over the text.
Unknown
Hope you enjoyed my present. Check the note next to her. X
I scan the other side of the bed and spot a beige card, folded neatly and placed on the bedside table. Walking over there, I avoid the blood that’s pooled right beside the bed. I flick the note open, reading over the cursive writing.
You have such exquisite taste, but not everyone is worthy of your touch. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure only the deserving remain.
Crumpling the note, I toss it back on the table and slide my phone out of my pocket to text Emiliano.
Me
I need you to come over to my place. It’s a code 19.
Code 19. Emergency. His reply comes back quickly.
Eli
This better be fucking important, asshole. I’ll be over in 15.
It takes him ten minutes instead of the fifteen he said it would. I’m waiting for him in my living room when he strides in. His black hair is cut shorter than usual, and some stubble has grown on his face. Bianca must be up late again.
She’s only nine months old and sleeps during the day, but is up all night.
I don’t know how her little lungs can handle all that screaming.
Her birth has been kept a secret, and for a good reason.
It’s barely been over a year and a half since Helen managed to take the girls.
And we have more powerful enemies than her, who are just waiting for a weakness to strike.
“This better be an actual emergency, Lucio, or I swear to God, I will have Mariano hang you by your fucking balls.”
I cringe at the vivid imagery. “Don’t take your fucking anger out on me. I’m not a punching bag, and I’m not the one keeping your daughter up at ungodly hours of the night just to torment you.”
A scowl settles over his features, the deep frown lines etched into his stupid face. “Out with it, Lucio. I don’t have time for your stupidity. I need to get back to my wife and my daughter.”
“There’s a girl in my bed?—”
He cuts me off. “For fuck’s sake, Lucio! This better not be you calling me to help you get a girl out of your bed.”
“It’s not what you think.”
Eli lifts a brow at me, as if urging me to finish and prove him wrong.
“She’s dead.”
“Don’t tell me you fucking killed her with some kinky shit you were pulling.”
“Ew. What the fuck is wrong with you? Who asks that kind of question?” My brothers always manage to make me want to bleach my fucking brain. “But no. I woke up, and her throat was slit from one ear to the other. And a note on the bedside table.”
A muscle in his jaw tics. “Is this the same fucker who killed those other girls and left them in my city?”
“I don’t know, but the girl’s dead.” The lie comes out smoothly.
I watch for his reaction to see if he’ll catch me in the lie, but Emiliano just pushes past me and into my bedroom. I follow behind him and hear him curse under his breath. He silently pulls out his phone and calls someone.
“Romiro, get Dom and Matteo down to Lucio’s apartment. It’s an emergency.” Eli pauses before saying, “No, it can’t wait ’til after eight, asshole. Get down here.”
This time, he doesn’t wait for an answer, slipping his phone back into his jacket. He spins on his heels and faces me.
“I told you, Lucio. Stop fucking around until we’re able to figure out who the fuck is pulling this shit. But you can’t keep your dick in your pants for more than a minute.”