Zane

 

After Jennings left and I confronted Isabella, I was too angry to even think straight. He’d confirmed her pregnancy, and then she tried to give me some bullshit about how she didn’t know what was she was going to do! The fuck she didn’t know. It was my baby; that call wasn’t hers alone to make. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this pissed off. I wanted to talk to someone about it, anyone, even Lionel, but it was practically the middle of the night.

 

Talking to Isabella after the doctor left had made my anger return tenfold. She was acting like a pathetic little kid, like she had no idea why I was so angry with her. It didn’t fucking matter that she’d been a one-night fuck; this changed everything. I hated to admit it, but it got me worrying about all kinds of other things. I fucked a lot of women. How many of them had gotten pregnant and had an abortion without telling me? Or worse, how many of them had just had the kid and not told me? Were there dozens of little Zanes running around the world?

 

I shook my head and blew out of a gust of air. Fuck this. I was going for a drive.

 

I got in my car and pointed it towards Morris. This whole situation had me feeling more on edge than ever. Between Isabella, the baby, and the drug deal with the Russians, I was feeling incredibly out of my depth. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do. And what about those thugs who attacked Isabella? I still had no idea who they were, and I needed to find out. As long as I was going to protect her, I had to have an idea of who the enemy was.

 

Even though Morris looked every bit the sleepy New Jersey town, most people had no idea how much criminal activity actually took place around here. There were quite a few “family businesses” like mine, only they were smaller. We were the kingpins, but that didn’t mean we didn’t get fucked with occasionally. Anyone could have attacked Isabella — a rival family trying to undermine the drug deal with the Russians. Or it could have just been a couple of petty criminals who wanted some easy money. I had a feeling I wasn’t the only person in town who knew about Isabella’s true history, though. With a father like Gianni, she probably had to be famous among those in the business. I felt stupid for not picking up on it more quickly, especially after that little chat about her last name. But as stupid as I felt, I knew Isabella had no idea who her father had really been. And for now, it was going to stay that way. If someone managed to kidnap her for real, she’d be better off not knowing. At least that way she wouldn’t accidentally give anyone up.

 

With a sigh, I drove towards Maison Bridges. It was towards the end of the night and I knew their bar would be closing soon, but I thought maybe I could pump one of the bartenders for information. And besides, I really needed a fucking drink. The beer I’d been swilling while Jennings was upstairs with Isabella had barely done anything to calm my nerves. Right now, I would have taken an IV line of whiskey straight to the bloodstream.

 

The bartender working was a pretty, petite brunette I’d seen before. She had a lithe, small body and a pert, upturned nose with a wide mouth underneath. Oddly, I didn’t even think about fucking her. I was so distracted with everything that was going on that sex wasn’t even on my mind. That’s a fucking first, I thought with a chuckle. Zane, you’re turning into an old man.

 

“Hi there,” she said with a smile. “What can I get for you? You know it’s almost last call, right?”

 

“Double scotch on the rocks,” I told her flatly. “And pronto. I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe.”

 

The girl giggled; it was cute and coquettish, but I found myself feeling more annoyed with her as each second passed. When she slid a glass brimming with scotch towards me, I wrapped my fingers around the cup and knocked half of it back. The familiar liquid fire of the scotch burned down my throat and I shuddered with happiness. At least drinking still felt good.

 

“Something on your mind?” The brunette leaned over the counter, pressing her arms together so it looked like she had cleavage.

 

I did her the courtesy of briefly staring before turning back to my drink. “You could say that,” I muttered. “Listen, were you around the other day? There were some guys in the alley. I think they tried to grab one of your coworkers and kidnap her.”

 

“Oh, that,” the brunette replied with wide eyes. She shook her head. “I wasn’t here. But I can go in the back and ask if any of the cooks were around. Would that be helpful?”

 

Yes, why do you think I fucking asked? I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart,” I replied. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

 

The brunette gave me a simpering smile as she waltzed towards the back of the restaurant and hollered for one of the cooks. When he came out from the kitchen, I did a double-take — the cook was no more than a pimply, bespectacled kid. When he saw me, his face went white.

 

“I don’t owe anyone money,” the kid stammered. “Whatever they told you, it ain’t true, mister!”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Cool your fuckin’ jets, kid. It ain’t about that. I need to ask you about a couple of fellas who were outside the other night. You see anyone? They were talking in the alley. Two guys, kinda big.” I gestured towards my face. “Tan, like me. Italian, probably.”

 

The kid blinked at me. He stepped closed and shook his head. “Mister, I ain’t seen no one!”

 

I rolled my eyes. “You know who woulda seen anyone, then?”

 

The kid nodded. He darted off before I could stop him.

 

The cute brunette rolled her eyes. “Sorry about him,” she said. “He’s a flaky asshole. I think he went to get the busboy. He sees everything around here.”

 

I was hit with the sudden urge to ask the brunette about Isabella. I didn’t want to open that can of worms, but I was dying to know what she was like when I wasn’t around. Was she the kind of woman who would be a good mother to my kid?

 

“Hey, you work with a girl named Isabella,” I stated. “Tell me about her.”

 

The brunette flushed. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said hotly. “Neither do I.” She winked at me and leaned over the counter again.

 

I rolled my eyes. “Ain’t interested, sweetheart, sorry. Got more on my plate than I can handle. And just tell me about her. What kind of girl is she?”

 

The brunette looked disgusted. “She’s fine, I guess,” she said. “I mean, she’s been working here practically forever, and I think she lies about her age and tells everyone she’s still twenty-one. Well, she’s been twenty-one for about five years now!” The girl threw her head back and laughed at her own bad joke. “She thinks she’s hot shit,” she said with a smirk on her face. “When she started here, she told the owner, Ricardo, her singing career was going to take off soon and she wouldn’t have the time to be around.” The brunette smirked again. “But obviously, her career didn’t take off.”

 

“Obviously,” I replied. “So, what else do you know about her?”

 

The brunette blinked. “Um, well, she hates working here. And she doesn’t really get along with Ricardo. She drives an older car. I think she lives alone, outside of town. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she was dating this one guy for a long time. He used to stop by and bring her flowers and flirt with me,” the brunette added, a superior smile on her broad lips.

 

Even though I was angry at Isabella, I was sick of hearing this shit about her. “That’s enough,” I said flatly. “You’ve been really helpful. Thanks.”

 

The pimply cook returned with a boy who could have been his twin. “This guy wants to ask you some questions,” he said as he shoved the other teenager in front of me. “About some guys in the alley the other day.”

 

“I saw some guys in the alley the other day,” the busboy repeated. “Um, I think they were both wearing black. No! One of them was wearing a hat, a grey hat. And a scarf with a checker pattern on it. And the other guy had a gold watch,” he finished, obviously proud of himself.

 

“That describes, like, half of the men in Morris,” the brunette snapped. “You don’t have anything more useful than that?” She looked at me, as if to say, “I’m with you, here. I’m trying to help you.”

 

“Seriously,” I muttered under my breath. “No fucking wonder you don’t get a lot of business, with those observational powers of yours.”

 

The kid blushed. “Can I go now?” I watched as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hopping like a nervous bird in the nearly-deserted room.

 

I nodded. “Fine,” I snapped. “Thanks for your help.” I rolled my eyes. Fucking kids, they were too goddamn busy staring at their smartphones to look for anything. No wonder the world was turning to shit. No one paid attention to anything anymore.

 

The brunette stared at me as I finished the rest of my drink. “Why are you looking for those guys? What’s it to you?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

 

“None of your business,” I replied smoothly. “How about another one of these drinks?” I held up my glass. “Another double.” I wasn’t drunk yet, but the warm feeling of alcohol was the only thing that felt soothing in this fucked up world.

 

She poured a generous amount into the glass. She hopped up on the bar and looked at me with her dark, shining eyes. She was hot, yeah, but she looked like a thousand other girls out there. She was no Isabella, that was for sure.

 

“So,” she purred. “I get off in a few minutes. Wanna hang around and wait for me to finish up? I could use some company tonight.” She raised her eyebrows at me and shifted her body from side to side. Even though she had a great body, something felt like it was missing. There was none of the chase, none of whatever it was that drew me to Isabella. This girl would let me fuck her and then she’d leave before I told her to get out. She wouldn’t look at me with longing; she wouldn’t ask to stay the night. She was used to getting a lot of action, and I could tell it was usually on her terms.

 

I stared at her. She was sexy: tiny, pert breasts, toned stomach, round, juicy ass. I could tell she’d be great in bed, a little minx that would let me do whatever I wanted with her. But somehow, the urge wasn’t there. It was like my sense of lust had vanished and disappeared from my body. This was unusual for me. Even when I’d had a lot of shit going on in the past, I’d never lost the urge to fuck a beautiful woman, especially not when she was offering. As I watched, she pushed her lips into a pout and parted them slightly. I tried to imagine her sucking me off. The image didn’t even make me stir. She was nothing, a nobody. Whereas Isabella…God, Isabella. Just thinking about Isabella, even though I was pissed at her, was enough to get me rock hard. She had a great body, and that mouth…I shifted in my chair so the brunette wouldn’t see my erection.

 

“So,” she repeated. “What d’ya say?” She winked at me and nudged her tiny breasts together.

 

My head was filled with uninspiring images of her in bed. I shook my head and passed the empty glass towards her on the bar. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m going home alone.”