A BLACK TOWN car pulled into the alley, and honked once. Joe quickly rounded the side of the car, and came up to the driver’s side window just as it rolled down enough to show the man waiting inside.
“You called?” Johnathan Marcello asked.
“Where’s your boss today?”
John chuckled dryly. “Which boss—seems like everybody rides my ass enough to wear the title, so be specific.”
Joe would have sighed had he even had the patience for that today, but he didn’t. “Dante. Or shit, even Lucian would probably do, if the boss is busy. I have questions, and they need to be answered.”
“Because that’s going to get you everywhere with them,” John muttered.
Shrugging, Joe said, “Yeah, well.”
“Dante is out of town for the weekend. My father is picking up the slack.”
“Makes sense why Dante isn’t answering my calls, then.”
“Yeah, whatever.” John drummed his fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel before adding, “You want a meet with my father, or what?”
“Today, preferably.”
“All right, get in.”
Joe chose not to question John. He jogged around the side of the car, and slipped in the passenger seat. It took ten minutes, and three phone calls for John to finally get a hold of his father, and request the meet.
Shit, Joe would have just showed up again on Lucian like he did the first time had he simply known where the man was. Well, as long as he had time.
Joe checked the digital clock on the dashboard of the Mercedes. Seemed like he was kind of running short on time, actually. He only had another two hours, at the most, and he was going to need to get back to watching Liliana until she was safe at her studio apartment.
“So,” John drawled from the driver’s seat.
“What?”
“I hear you’re looking after my sister.”
Joe cocked a brow. “Someone thought it was a good idea.”
John smirked. “Yeah, they always have the brightest fucking ideas.”
“Mmm.”
“Be nice to her, huh?”
Joe eyed John from the side. “I beg your pardon?”
“My sister, I mean. Be nice to her. She took enough shit from me growing up, and whatnot. She just … doesn’t deserve anything less than kind people treating her with respect.”
“What kind of shit did she take from you, exactly?”
John glanced over at Joe.
Fuck.
He could tell he hadn’t been successful in hiding the warning of violence flashing in his tone when he spoke. Just the idea of someone being terrible to Liliana was enough to make Joe want to spill blood, and hear screams echo.
For a long while, John’s gaze continued to drift between Joe, and back to the slow-moving Manhattan traffic. “What’s that about, man?”
Joe cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Cut the bullshit. I don’t care. I’m not the one you have to worry about spilling your business. Just tell me what it’s fucking about.”
“This isn’t the inquisition, John. Don’t be a prying fucker.”
“Fine,” John said heavily, glancing back out the window. “I’m bipolar. Diagnosed when I was seventeen—closer to eighteen, but still seventeen. I went the majority of my teen years in a constant up and down spiral of mania, and depression. My sisters—more the two older ones—were always right there in the line of fire given we lived in the same fucking house.”
Joe’s head jerked to the side again, and he found John was watching him, too.
“So yeah, that’s the kind of shit my sister took from me,” John said, “and if anyone in this business ever learns I’m bipolar because you told them, all that’s going to be left of you will be a fucking shadow. Got it?”
Well, damn.
Joe didn’t feel the need to question John’s threat because he felt it well enough in the way the man’s words stabbed at him.
“I like her,” Joe admitted. “Liliana, I mean.”
John drummed his fingers again. “Oh?”
“Complicated, at the moment.”
“I guess it would be considering you’re hired to do a job for our family, and they added her into the mix. Although, that’s not really complicated.”
“It is when I haven’t told her she’s part of the job. And for that matter, explaining that bit would mean also telling her what my work is. I don’t like to talk about that with anybody, if you get my drift.”
John made a sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, edging toward issues there a little bit.”
“Don’t need the reminder.”
“What can you do?”
Without saying another word, John pulled the Mercedes to the side of the road. He put the car in park in front of what looked like a restaurant that was currently undergoing serious renovations given the blacked out windows, and building permits.
“He’s here?” Joe asked.
John shrugged. “He had some unpleasant meetings today, I think.”
“Won’t the workers coming in to work on the place be pissed to find a mess?”
“Oh, they just keep this place for this sort of shit. It’s never actually undergoing anything but a mop of the floor to clean up the blood.”
Huh.
Good to know.
“Thanks, John,” Joe said, climbing out of the car.
John’s voice stopped Joe from closing the door when he replied, “No problem, man. And like I said … be kind to her.”
Joe nodded, but didn’t reply.
He figured he didn’t have to.
“Leave him,” came the order from the far end of the restaurant.
Joe had barely managed to walk in through the front door before he was faced with two surly looking enforcers that often trailed close behind wherever Lucian Marcello went. One was the enforcer from the restaurant, but it didn’t seem like the man cared if he recognized Joe or not at the moment.
However, at their boss’s order, the two men took a few steps back from Joe. They quickly went back to their posts at the wall.
Joe didn’t miss how one of the enforcer’s knuckles were a reddened, swollen mess. Like he had the time of his life punching the daylights out of someone that day.
It was possible.
Now that he had a bit of breathing room, Joe took the chance to look around while he could. There wasn’t very fucking much to see inside the place, actually.
It certainly looked like the business was undergoing some kind of renovations, but that was probably all to keep the act up, and the building permits still legal. Wires hung from the exposed ceiling, the floor was torn up to showcase stained cement beneath it, and old tables and chairs were scattered in every direction. Some were covered by dusty, old sheets, and others were overturned or cleaned off to sit.
Lucian pushed off the corner of a table at the far end of the rundown restaurant. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching someone today?”
“Do you think I left her unprotected?”
“I think I asked a question, actually.”
Joe sighed. “She’s with her mother and sister, as you probably already know. Dinner, and a movie. I suspect it’s a girls’ day out, but who knows? The other two have enforcers, and they’re in well-known, public areas. I chatted with their enforcers for a minute to let them know I had to step away.”
He then flashed his phone in the air, saying, “I get a text every time they move to a new spot, and I know exactly where she is at all times. She’s fine.”
“I know she is,” Lucian murmured.
Joe swore the man almost fucking smiled, too.
“I hate it when people doubt me,” Joe said.
Lucian shrugged. “Not my problem. What can I do for you?”
Yes, that.
The whole fucking reason why Joe was here to begin with.
“Rich Earl,” Joe said, trying to keep his tone as level as he could. He also failed like a fucker because he knew something was fucking up, now. “Son of George Earl—you know, the politician you want me to kill.”
Lucian folded his arms over his chest, but otherwise, kept his face impassive and unreadable. “What about him? Most men George’s age have families, Joe. I’m not sure why you’re looking into the personal details and lives of your mark. That’s not typical, is it?”
“What I do for my job is none of your business,” Joe said, tossing the man’s words back at him.
“On the contrary—I’m the one paying you.”
“Dante, actually,” Joe countered.
Lucian smirked. “On the surface, maybe.”
What?
Joe decided Lucian’s word games weren’t all that important right then. He had something else he needed to deal with. “I want to know why one of the sons of my mark approached Liliana on opening night of The Sleeping Beauty?”
That was what did it.
That was what made Lucian’s calm façade crack.
“Excuse me?”
Lucian moved a step forward—a calculating step if Joe ever saw one. It was like suddenly the man’s body was a coiling snake readying to strike, and Joe very well might be the target it came to kill.
“Rich Earl—approached Liliana during opening night of the show. I saw from the background, and didn’t step in because even though she seemed uncomfortable with him around, she had it under control. Also, I didn’t want to expose myself being there. She didn’t know. I didn’t want to freak her out or anything.”
“And you know who he is how, exactly?” Lucian asked, reverting back to the calm tone.
“I thought he looked familiar.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“I made some calls, and had some information pulled.”
“And what did you find?”
Joe’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you questioning me?”
“Because I can!”
Jesus.
“I found what I wanted to know—who he was, and because of that, how he’s related to this job considering he’s Earl’s son. Now, could you answer some fucking questions of mine, Lucian, or no?”
“He approached her?” Lucian asked.
“I’ve said that two or three times now.”
Glancing to the side, Lucian said nothing for a spell. Joe thought the man might have been considering his words, but it was possible that it was something else entirely. Like maybe Lucian was trying to check his rage.
But why?
What was Joe missing?
He was missing something, clearly.
“No,” Lucian finally said, “I am not going to answer your questions.”
Joe stared hard at the man.
Lucian stared back, unflinchingly.
“This is Marcello family business,” the man continued, “and you were hired to do a job for us, nothing else. Do your job, Joe, or someone else will.”
Joe’s jaw clenched. “All I am asking—”
“Is for something I won’t give you. Why haven’t you hit the marks yet, anyway?” Lucian cocked his head to the side, and his gaze narrowed in on Joe. “I do believe Dante gave you the okay last week to go ahead with the hits.”
Yes.
The day after Liliana’s show.
Joe hadn’t gone forward.
Yet.
“And why haven’t you done your job?” Lucian demanded.
“Because.”
Lucian sneered. “Because you were digging through information, and waited to see what you could find, hmm? Didn’t want to jump ahead of the gun lest it shoot you in the ass.”
Joe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I said from the jump that these are high profile people, Lucian. I want to know why I’m supposed to kill them.”
“Just do your fucking job, Joe.” Lucian eased out of his defensive posture, but the hard, coldness in his gaze remained. “You’re heading to Chicago in a couple of days for that … business opening, correct?”
“Yes, the bar with my brother.”
“Do make sure you’re ready—or damn close—to finishing what we hired you for by the time you get back. Understood?”
How was he supposed to respond?
No?
“I’ll see what I can do,” Joe settled on saying.
Being back in Chicago was like crawling back in your comfortable bed after being away from it for far, far too long. Joe stepped off the private jet onto his home soil, and instantly felt like he might be able to let his guard down a little bit. It helped to see his father and brother waiting just across the tarmac.
And yet, something was still holding him back from being entirely happy that he was home a day later. Probably, the text messages coming into his phone, and the beautiful woman he’d left back in New York.
But who knew for sure?
You free tonight?
That had been Liliana’s last text.
Joe was still struggling to answer her back. Likely because he didn’t want to tell her no, or make it seem like he was rejecting her again. The very last thing he wanted Liliana to feel was as though he had just fucked her and run like a coward after. Because really, he hadn’t gotten to see her again since that night. At least, not while she knew.
Most of his days were spent following her around, and making sure she was safe, now. But that left him with very little time to do anything else, and the girl was a damn social butterfly. Always out and about, and it wasn’t like he could step in public and make himself known.
Not in the job description, unfortunately.
There was nothing more he wanted than to climb back on a plane, and head to New York to spend an evening with her instead of this goddamn bar opening.
And he hated flying.
Shit, that alone should have told Joe something.
Finally, he answered Liliana’s text back with a simple, How about Monday? Something came up.
Monday is good—I am free anytime after four.
Joe grinned down at his phone, pleased that had worked in his favor. Monday it is, sweetheart.
He stuffed his phone back into his pocket just as Cory rounded the bar with one of his usual cocky grins. “What are you behind here smiling like a fucking boy for?”
Joe gave his brother a look. “I am not. I’m … enjoying a good opening.”
He mentally patted himself on the back for coming up with that lie. Although, he should have known better because if there was anyone in his life who knew him well, it was Cory. He couldn’t hide shit from his brother.
“Nah, you were checking out your phone,” Cory said, resting an elbow to the bar. “And I know how much you hate these openings—you only like owning businesses because money. Cut the shit, and tell me what’s up.”
Yep.
“Just drop it,” Joe muttered.
“Met someone in New York?”
Joe stared hard at Cory, and silently willed his brother to go away. And of course, when he didn’t, all Joe could do was shake his head. “How do you even guess shit like that?”
“So, I’m right, then.”
Cory grinned in that way of his again.
Joe kind of wanted to punch him in the mouth.
“Maybe I met someone,” Joe finally settled on saying. He knew how his brother worked, and if he didn’t give Cory something to chew on for a while, then his brother would never shut up until he did get what he wanted. “And maybe it’s a little complicated because of circumstances and the job I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Who is she?”
“You don’t care, Cory.”
“Hey.”
The hurt in his brother’s tone actually made Joe turn to face his brother full on. Cory cocked a brow in challenge, and his posture matched with arms crossed over his broad chest. Both Rossi brothers were tall, wide, and built like brick shithouses. Something they took from their father, he supposed.
“I get you’re not like me, Joe,” Cory said.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Women, dumbass. You’re not like me with women.”
“To say the least,” Joe muttered.
Women were like tissues to Cory. Fun and easy to use, and then quickly disposed of once he had gotten what he wanted from them. Joe didn’t have serious relationships, but he wasn’t interested in just busting a nut and moving on, either.
That wasn’t his style.
“Yeah,” Cory continued, “so when you say maybe you met a woman, I’m gonna stop and ask about her, fucker. Because I know that means something to you just based on the way you are with females. So, what’s her name, and don’t try that ignorant shit with me again or I’ll bust your mouth.”
Had it been any other man …
Any other time …
Joe likely would have stood up for that challenge, and dared his brother—or whoever—to go ahead and fucking try it. He got his kicks out of that kind of shit, but especially with Cory considering the two had grown up beating the hell out of each other every chance they could.
But tonight, it just amused him.
Because it meant Cory gave a fuck.
“Liliana Marcello,” Joe said.
As soon as he said it, he plucked up the drink he hadn’t touched all night—three fingers of whiskey—and downed it in one single go. Because yeah, he needed a drink after admitting that.
Cory whistled low. “Damn. If that ain’t playing with some kind of fucking fire, I don’t know what is.”
Joe shrugged. “She’s …”
“Are you gonna give me some sappy shit, or …?”
Not even thinking about it, Joe struck out with his fist, and punched Cory right in the gut. His brother doubled over with a half-laugh, and half-moan. The commotion gained the attention of several patrons in the opening bar, but since it was mob-owned, and Joe recognized most of the faces, he just grinned and waved a hand.
These people knew how the Rossi brothers were.
“You are a fucker,” Cory said in a sneer as he stood straight again.
“Says the fucker who probably helped make me this way,” Joe countered.
Cory considered that before admitting, “Truth.”
Joe gave his brother another look. “No, I wasn’t going to be sappy. I haven’t grown a cunt in my absence, you shithead.”
“What, then?”
The two leaned against the bar, and watched the bartender down the way serve drinks with a fun flair to the people on the other side. Silent for the moment, it gave Joe the chance to think over his words before he just blurted something stupid out.
Plus, he didn’t exactly know how to describe Liliana, or what he thought and felt about her. It was complicated, and difficult. She was also different, and wonderful. Beautiful like nobody else. A fucking star in his eyes—captivating him with nothing more than a smile and a twirl.
“Ma would love her,” Joe said.
Cory stiffened beside him. “Oh?”
“She’s that kind of woman, you know.”
“Huh.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Cory’s gaze met Joe’s and he replied, “That’s all I need to say.”
“There’s strange shit going on down in New York, though, and I can’t really say I like it.”
“That sounds bad.”
“A little.”
“I could come to—”
“No, you can’t come to New York with me,” Joe interjected.
Cory scowled. “Why do you have to ruin all my fun?”
“Because you don’t know how to stay under the radar, Cory.”
“Fine—that’s fair. What’s the problem?”
Joe wondered how much he should tell his brother, but it really wasn’t all that much of a question for him. Out of everyone in his life, he trusted his brother the very most. Maybe it was their raising, or the fact they were so close in age and only really had each other to fall back on a lot of the time in this life. Nonetheless, he would give his life for Cory, and knew his brother would give his in return, too.
“All right, it’s like this,” Joe started.
It took a good ten minutes for him to get through the job the Marcellos asked him to do, and then all the weird shit that came up after. He didn’t leave out the fact he thought the two hits were too high profile to be doing close together, not to mention that he all but knew the Marcellos had to have a good reason for doing it, and it was likely going to draw attention to them. He added on the son of the politician approaching Liliana at her show, and then the meeting Joe had with Lucian just before he came.
“They keep telling me to mind my fucking business,” Joe said, “but I feel like there’s a lot of shit going on under the surface, and I need to know why this job was put in my hands to begin with.”
“The Outfit’s spoiled you, man,” Cory said.
Joe’s brow dipped. “What?”
“You’re a hired gun. A hitman, at the most. And you were hired to do a hit for them—nothing more, Joe. You’re used to Tommas or Dad giving you every reason why someone has to die, so you can do your strange guilt shit when you have to justify it to God.”
“First of all—”
“Shut up. Point being, they don’t owe you that information. You took the job, so that means you do it.”
“No, I took it because Dad asked me to,” Joe replied.
“You didn’t mention that.”
Joe shrugged. “Yeah, basically said because he’s asking me to do it, so I did. And even now when I try to raise my concerns about all of this, he brushes me off.”
Cory frowned. “That’s not like Dad, either.”
“See,” Joe said pointedly, “something is fucking up, man. I’m not crazy.”
“You think it maybe has something to do with Liliana? You said Lucian told you on the surface it may look like Dante was paying you, right?”
“Kind of suggested it was Lucian who was getting me to do the job, yeah.”
Cory nodded. “All right, now add on the fact the son of a senator you’re meant to kill was acting kind of friendly with Lucian Marcello’s daughter—”
“She has a goddamn name, Cory.”
“First, I realize she has a name, Joe. Step out of your feelings for five seconds, and think about this whole thing objectively. That’s probably half of your damn problem. You haven’t been able to really get your eyes away from the prize long enough to properly think about all of this.”
“The prize—what?”
“Liliana’s pus—”
Joe punched his brother again, but this time, in the shoulder. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
Cory rubbed the spot, and scowled deeper. “Keep hitting me, and I’m not going to help you at all.”
“You’re not helping very much right now.”
“You said she looked uncomfortable, and this … Rich Earl, the senator’s son, acted familiar with her. Maybe a previous relationship or something?”
Jealousy surged through Joe.
Hot.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
He swallowed the bitter taste it left behind, and tried to keep it from showing in his tone when he said, “That’s fair to say, sure.”
“How about I look there, then,” Cory suggested.
“What—at Liliana and Rich? She’s not seeing him.”
“But she might have been.”
Fuck.
True.
And that might give Joe some of his answers, too.
“I know some people,” Cory added under his breath. “I could have the info to you relatively soon.”
“How soon?”
“Depends on how much digging I have to do. I mean, if it were easy to find, you would know already. There would have been news about the Marcellos and these high-profile men they want you to hit, but you said there’s no direct connection that you’ve found. None that are obvious between the marks of yours, and the main men of the Marcello organization, anyway. That means, it has to be something deeper in their family. Something—or someone—behind these men that they’re protecting.”
Someone like Liliana.
Joe swallowed hard, not liking how this was starting to look. “All right, then. Don’t tell Dad you’re looking into shit. He’s already being a prick about this when I try to ask.”
Cory nodded. “You got it.”