Prologue
Salvatore Castellanos
“Jesus, Adrian, maybe you should’ve bought me a drink first.”
As I stand braced against Morelli’s Escalade, his guard dog pats me down. I say this to him like it’s a joke, and it mostly is, but I’ve never seen the guy with a woman, and his dedication to Mateo Morelli does raise certain questions.
“You’re not my type.” Adrian pops back up, stone-faced. He turns me around and holds out his hand expectantly.
“I already gave you my gun,” I remind him, quirking a dark eyebrow.
“Phone.”
Oh, right. I’ve heard of his stupid phone thing. Sighing, I dig my phone out of my pocket and hand it over. He pops out the SIM card and battery, then opens the door for me.
Morelli’s such a paranoid motherfucker.
I guess I shouldn’t complain. I requested a private audience somewhere we wouldn’t be seen, and he accommodated me. Given the level of his mistrust, I didn’t even expect this much. Once his guy clears me, he opens the car door and gestures for me to climb inside. Mateo is in the car with Alec Morelli in the driver’s seat, and now his scarred-up guard dog to keep an eye on things. Adrian slid in the back with us instead of the passenger seat, probably ‘cause he doesn’t trust me. I think of the picture in my pocket and wish I would’ve pulled it out before I got in. Reaching for anything around these guys is probably not a great idea.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I tell Mateo, since I know how much he hates having his presence requested.
Nodding once, he says, “You said it was important.”
“It’s about Delmonico.”
His brow furrows in confusion, my first indication that our information is bad. He doesn’t look guarded, he doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything; he just looks like he doesn’t know why the hell I would ask about one of his guys.
“What about him?”
“I know this is toeing the line of our arrangement, but did he hire a crew to do a freelance op a few months back? Tito Suarez, Lane Palinkas, a few little guys? They would’ve been, uh... transporting girls.”
He shakes his head, still frowning. “No.”
“No way something like that could’ve happened and you wouldn’t know?”
At that, he smiles, looking legitimately amused. “No.”
I nod, going to reach for my picture, but Adrian pulls a gun on me before I can even speak. Raising my hands to indicate I’m harmless, I say, “I have a picture—mind if I grab it?”
“Slow,” Adrian says, still with his gun trained on me.
Man, these fucking guys. I slowly reach into my pocket and draw out Willow’s picture. I offer it to Mateo, watching for any sign of recognition as he looks at it.
“Who’s this?” he asks, glancing up at me.
“Her name’s Willow, she’s—well, technically my half-sister. My father’s bastard.”
“Okay. And why are you showing me her picture?”
“Because we got information that you orchestrated her kidnapping to strike out at my father.”
“Kidnapping?” His gaze flickers back to the picture. Now there’s recognition. “That’s where I’ve seen her face. That was in the news,” he says, handing me back the photo and meeting my gaze. “My operations don’t make the news, Salvatore.”
“It wasn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “Wasn’t me.”
“And you’re positive it wasn’t Delmonico?”
Indicating the photo in my hand, he says, “Whatever happened to your sister, I had nothing to do with it. None of my people had anything to do with it.”
Adrian reaches out and grabs the picture from me, looking down at it. “Did you get her back?”
I nod, watching his face for recognition, but after a brief glimpse, he gives it back. “Yeah, she’s okay now. Problem is, the guys involved are dropping like flies. No one can find Tito, but my hunch is he’s behind it.”
“Who would hire Tito to head an operation?” Adrian asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Someone who doesn’t want it to succeed,” Mateo replies. “Was your sister harmed?”
I nod jerkily. “Yeah. Nothing she won’t recover from, though.”
“Everyone’s dead but Tito?” Adrian reviews.
“Almost everyone. Her boyfriend was on the crew, but Willow’s protecting him.”
“Wait, what?” Mateo asks, frowning.
“It was a fucked up situation. He wasn’t really on the crew, but Tito hired him even though he knew…” I shake my head, since it’s too convoluted to explain briefly. “Anyway, Tito and Ethan are the only ones left, and Tito’s the only one who might know anything.”
Mateo nods. “We’ll keep an eye out. I’ll get in touch if we see him.”
“Might want to tell your sister’s boyfriend to watch his back,” Adrian advises.
I raise a questioning eyebrow.
“Everyone else is dead,” Adrian points out. “If he’s not involved, he’s probably next.”
I shrug, tucking the picture back into my pocket. “She can do better anyway.”
---
Meet me at the bakery.
I don’t recognize the number, and I don’t know what bakery the person is talking about. Scowling at my cell, I type back, “Who is this?”
“Adrian.”
I frown, momentarily confused, because I don’t know any Adrians.
Oh.
Well, that explains which bakery.
“Mark.”
My shaggy haired companion looks up from his cell phone. “Yeah?”
“I need you to go to the Morelli bakery.”
“Got a hankerin’ for some cake?” he asks lightly.
“I need you to make sure I’m not being set up.”
He nods, pushing up off his chair. “I’m on it.”
I let him leave, text Adrian back that I’ll be there in a few minutes, and make my way to my own car. I’m not comfortable, per se, with meeting Adrian Palmetto on Morelli territory, but he doesn’t have any reason to want me dead, so it should be okay. The only reason he should be reaching out to me is to give me information on Tito, and I would really like to find that motherfucker.
Mark checks the place out ahead of time and tells me the coast is clear. When I get there, I make my way inside. Chiming bells alert of a new customer, but there’s no one behind the counter. I glance around, automatically looking for cameras. I’m surprised when I don’t see more than the one in the corner, pointed at the door. As paranoid as Morelli is, you’d think there’d be more.
A woman flies around the corner, her cheeks a bit rosy, her long, dark hair pulled up in a messy knot on top of her head. She offers a smile in greeting, then pauses, does a brief double take, and smiles with a little more enthusiasm.
“Hello. Sorry, I was—I’m short a baker, so I’m pulling double duty today. What can I get for you?”
Damn, she is stunning. I’m not sure I’ve ever used that word in regards to a woman before, but this one… this one is a stunner. Even with her hair a mess and her cheeks flushed.
Too bad she works here. I wouldn’t mind seeing her hair spread out on my pillow while I check out what’s underneath that apron.
“First time here,” I tell her with a friendly, harmless smile. “What do you recommend?”
“What do you like?” she inquires.
Her words are perfectly innocent, but damn, do they stir some dirty mental images.
I shouldn’t be having dirty thoughts about some random baker. Mostly because she’s not a random baker, she works at this bakery, so fucking her would be more of a hassle than anything. Even if I just wanted to see those plump lips around my cock, Morelli would probably assume I was trying to recruit a mole or something. No blowjob is worth that mess.
I guess I need to get laid. I have an inventory of ready-and-willing girls I could call on, but standing here looking at the plump lips on cupcake girl… damn, if I’m not interested in this one.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I ask, instead of answering her.
Her gaze drops demurely, then she looks back up at me from beneath long eyelashes, her coy brown eyes sending a jolt straight to my crotch.
“Francesca,” she says.
That is like ice water poured over said crotch.
Because Francesca is the name of Morelli’s younger sister. The one who runs this bakery.
This is Francesca Morelli.
Those lips are suddenly completely off the menu, budding erection be damned.
“What’s yours?” she asks.
I take a couple of steps closer, looking at the display instead of her since I should probably actually buy something. “Tony.”
“Nice to meet you, Tony.” Since I’m not looking at her anymore and I’ve noticeably cooled, she turns her attention to the display case and clears her throat. “Well, we’ve got plenty to choose from, as you can see here.”
“How about a cupcake,” I say, off-handedly.
“Sure. What kind?”
She’s switched into business mode, but even knowing who she is, I give her a slow smile. “Give me your favorite.”
Now she smiles again, as if relieved she still has my interest. Damn, that’s cute. “Do you like chocolate?” she asks.
“Who doesn’t?”
Rolling her eyes as if in solidarity, she says, “No sane person, obviously.”
“Your boyfriend come in for his sugar fix a lot?”
She glances up at me, smiling faintly. “No boyfriend. Your girlfriend doesn’t bake for you?”
“Unattached,” I state, watching her hands as she slips my cupcake into a little box.
Could I get away with having a one-night-stand with Mateo’s little sister? It’s not smart. I don’t usually take big chances for pussy, but I’d sure like to sample this one. She’s clearly attracted to me, so she might be into it. Maybe I’d never even have to tell her who I am. One night out with “Tony,” mutually satisfactory sex, and then we never see each other again.
I pull out my wallet, fishing out a few singles. “I better like this cupcake,” I tell her. “I’m gonna hold you personally responsible if I don’t.”
Grinning to herself, she says with what I can tell is intentional demureness, “I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
Right to my cock. “Aw, that was mean,” I state.
She fights her grin and doesn’t look up at me as she moves over to the register to ring me up. I hand her the money and swipe the cupcake box.
“What are you doing tonight, Francesca?”
She looks a little nervous now, but maybe a little excited, too. “After work? Nothing, really.”
I nod, watching her. “Yeah, me neither.” I let a few seconds pass, noting that she’s waiting for me to ask her out, then I flash her a smile. “Well, see you around, Francesca.”
I notice her smile slip, but I turn and walk out of the bakery without looking back.
I can’t help smirking to myself a little as I walk down the sidewalk back toward my car. My smugness falls away and I remember why I’m actually here when I see Adrian sitting in a white sedan, watching me.
That guy gives me the creeps. But here I am, so I might as well see what he wants.
Adrian rolls his window down as I approach. He looks like he’s in a bad mood. That might just be his norm, though. Working for Mateo has to be a tough job.
“So, what’s with the meeting?” I ask casually, bracing my arm on the top of his car door and leaning in.
Without preamble, he asks, “You know there’s a video of your sister going around?”
I lose my humor, straightening. I’ve seen the fucking video. About lost my lunch. “Yeah, I know.”
“It’s fucking circulating,” he states again, like maybe I didn’t understand. “It doesn’t just exist in the world, it’s being passed around like a fucking Youtube video.”
“What do you want me to do about it, Adrian?”
He pushes the car door open and I take a step back to make room for him. He holds out the car key for some reason, expecting me to take it.
“What’s this?” I ask, confused.
“A guy in the trunk says he’s seen Tito.”
My eyes widen and I glance at the trunk of the car. “There’s a guy in your trunk? Alive?”
“Of course, alive,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What good would he do you dead?”
“How did you find him?” I’m still pretty damn confused. It’s been a long time since I met with Adrian and Morelli about this, and I hadn’t heard anything from Adrian since.
“There were some guys skulking around outside the bakery a couple nights ago. Mateo’s sister works here and they made her uncomfortable, so I checked it out. Low level guys, no one that mattered, but this one just happened to know Tito, so I thought I’d pass him on.”
“What about the other guy?”
Adrian replies simply, “He didn’t know Tito.”
I smile a little. Too bad for that guy, I guess.
“Why were they skulking around here?” I ask.
“No reason that would concern you.” He misses a beat. “I still work for Mateo. I just think this shit with your sister is fucked up. If I can help in my downtime, I will.”
That’s no small thing. Adrian’s highly coveted in our line of work, so I give him a nod of acknowledgement. “I appreciate that, Adrian.”
Adrian nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, that’s all. I’ll get in touch if I have anything else.”
“We probably shouldn’t transfer this guy to my trunk in the stark light of day,” I point out.
Rolling his eyes, Adrian says, “Ya think? Take the car. Drop it off at Mateo’s shop when you’re done with it.”
“I sort of already drove a car here,” I point out.
Smirking as he walks up the sidewalk toward the bakery, Adrian says, “Have the guy you sent ahead to check the place out come back for it.”