****
"Get out of the car, and don't touch anything," I mumbled and parked on the corner of Fifth and Murphy. Vivian had been found just a few feet in front of us in a darkened alley four days before.
I got out of the car and glanced around, wondering why the streets were empty. Tugging my long black coat closer, I moved around the car and scowled at Freddy as he opened the door and almost hit me with it.
"Sorry... sorry." Freddy got out and closed the door, moving beside me and looking around the street behind us. "What are you hoping to find here, D? You don't think the boys in blue can do their jobs, or what?"
I snorted and ignored the question. No way had the cops taken the time to really assess the scene. Everyone at the station was aware that Joseph Castaletta had his fingers in the wrong pies and yet everyone who crossed them ended up in the river next to Saint Mary's. Too bad they could never lay proof as to who knocked them off. Freddy kept chattering next to me in a way that was annoying, even for him.
Realization dawned on me. Maybe it was too difficult for him to be with me, seeing that his mother had been brutally raped and most likely murdered in the alley we stood beside.
"Hey... if this is too much, go get in the car. You don't need to be here with me."
Freddy hesitated, his eyes a little too wide to pull off a look of ease or comfort. He glanced at the alley and then back at the car.
I pointed to the car without waiting for an answer. "Go."
"Yeah, okay, but if you need me... "
"I won't." I turned and reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a small flashlight and turning it on. The late afternoon sun was hidden behind dark clouds, leaving the area around me darker than usual. The heavens seemed upset at having to welcome a God-fearing Mafia wife into its gates that morning. "Holy rollers and their religion."
I walked deep into the alley as the heavy taint of despair sat in the corners where bedding was rolled up and small bags filled with useless trinkets sat. The homeless population had gotten out of control in the city of Chicago, and the police patrols had caused most of the poor bastards to hide in the filth of the Windy City’s alleys, staying out of the public eye. I scowled at the treatment of the poor bastards. Life was a bitch sometimes, and ending up homeless and broke was a huge reward for not treating that bitch as queen.
Dark eyes peered out at me as my flashlight lit up the far corner ahead. A soft grunt echoed from that same corner, but I ignored it. Instead, I turned toward the lining of black trash cans along the wall to find the chalk outline of Vivian faded but still distinguishable.
I knelt down and pressed my hand to the cold concrete as the image of someone raping her swept across my vision. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to burn the very thought away as my stomach grew sick and my knees weak.
How someone could hurt a beautiful soul like Vivian was beyond me. The only conclusion we could come to is that it wasn't at all about Vivian, but about hurting Joe and the syndicate.
We all knew the risk in choosing to live the lives we did, but that didn't make things any easier to swallow when the shit went down.
Things like that weren't supposed to happen.
Rico was Vivian's guard and should have been with her, but after talking to him we found out that she'd given him the slip that day. She’d always assumed she could take care of herself and that everyone would be too scared to fuck with Joe, but where there is a large fish in the sea, there will always be a bigger one waiting to swallow him up — or try to.
The syndicate was a small conglomerate, and a threat to all those who hoped to throw their hat into the crime business. The chances of the murderers being from Chicago were slim. They were most likely from New York or Mexico or even as far as Italy.
Crime spanned the globe, and with the way technology was moving us rapidly into a digital world, it was just a matter of time before selling dope could be as easy from country to country as it was from neighborhood to neighborhood.
The rumbling behind me got a little louder as I squatted in the alleyway with my thoughts lost on the future. I wasn't concerned about the homeless man bothering me, or anyone really. I had learned to fight and kill in a way that left me confident, almost to a fault.
I glanced over my shoulder and lifted my chin as the guy approached. "Whatchu know, old-timer?"
The older man pointed to the chalk outline on the ground. "I know one thing: that pretty little lady right there didn't deserve to die."
To Be Continued…
This Castaletta series is FILLED with twists and turns. It’s a sexy love story, but there is some intense-ass drama around every bend on this one. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read thus far… pick up a copy on us . It’s a wild ride you’re not going to want to miss.
This next one Ali and I plotted as a stand-alone story, but her beautiful girls in her street team pushed and pushed to get more of Ian. So we turned it into a trilogy to give them (and you!) more story. I hope you love this last sneak peek. The taboo relationship with a bad boy bodyguard and a spoiled Senator’s rich daughter is wicked hot. Don’t miss out.
RAS: I can touch my toes…if I bend my knees and have some help. I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t have put this one in here. What the hell does this have to do with anything? (Says my sister Ali)