LORIK
I leaned with my forehead against the door.
Karina left about ten minutes ago, but I couldn’t tear myself away from that goddamn door. It felt like I had the worst goddamn hangover ever. The only difference between this hangover and the one I had last weekend was this one had nothing to do with alcohol. Or maybe it wasn’t a hangover, but more like a craving, a withdrawal. Yes, that was what it was, a withdrawal. The more I thought of that damn Italian woman naked and spread in front of me, the more it felt like I was about to claw my own skin off.
I took a deep breath, and I swore to God I could still smell her vanilla and honey scent around me…on me. Instantly, my cock hardened. What the fuck? It was like it suddenly had the capacity to come out and play every damn ten minutes. How many times in my goddamn life had I wished, prayed to have an ever-ready cock? And here he was, ever-ready, it seemed, for the one woman I definitely wasn’t supposed to fuck in the first place. She was right, it never should have happened—twice. But it did. And it was the best sex of my life. My cock would be thanking me for this experience for a very, very long time.
My phone rang somewhere in the apartment, and I turned and searched the living room for the damn thing. I didn’t have a clue where I put it down. Honestly, everything that happened during the last few hours was a little hazy, except for the part where I was buried balls deep inside Karina Valenti, the very well-known Boston mafia princess. God, I’m such an idiot.
The damn phone continued to ring, and I started tossing shit around looking for the thing. Finally, I found it under the couch, and I had no idea how it got there.
I lifted the couch and grabbed my phone. It was Anderson. Why the hell was he calling me at—I glanced at my watch—four in the morning?
“It’s a little early for a booty call, don’t you think?”
“Stone, cut the crap. Where were you last night?”
I frowned. “I’m sorry, but how is that any of your goddamn business, partner?”
“Were you at Vertigo?”
Instantly, there was a prickle of warning in the back of my skull. “Yeah. Why?”
Silence.
“Anderson, what the fuck is going on?”
“Get your ass down to Vertigo…now.”
“What’s going—”
He hung up. I stared at the phone, thinking the fucker actually hung up on me. As if it was possible I could dislike the man even more.
Within ten minutes, I was showered, dressed, and on my way out the door. God, it was awesome being a man.
On my way out of the apartment building, swinging my keys around my fingers and whistling—yes, I was whistling like a sixteen-year-old boy who just lost his virginity—I paused, that uncomfortable feeling moving down my back.
I looked over to my blue Chevrolet Colorado truck parked in front of the building, then glanced down the street. There was a black Bentley parked a few cars down, and as I walked up to the sidewalk, it turned onto the road and slowly drove in my direction.
Out of instinct, I reached for my side, but realized I was no longer an on-duty cop, which meant I didn’t have Lucy with me anymore. Fuck, I missed Lucy.
The Bentley cruised down the road then stopped in front of me. It was still dark, and I was immediately on high alert as I watched the back window slide down.
“Detective Stone.”
Why the fuck am I not surprised? I squared my shoulders. “Mancuso.”
Enzio studied me from top to bottom before he looked me in the eye. “Have a good night?”
“Awesome. What’s it to you?” My instincts were sounding like loud fucking horns inside my head.
“Looks like you didn’t get much sleep.”
“I didn’t.”
Enzio snorted, but that arrogant grin was still coating his ugly face. “I should warn you, Detective Stone, I’m a man who gets very possessive over what’s mine.”
Unable to stop myself, to back down from the threat, I stepped closer to the car, even though I had nothing to defend myself with. “And I should warn you I’m a man who really doesn’t give a fuck.”
“You should.” And there it was, the menacing warning, the threat I saw on his face at Vertigo. And even though I was one of those students who failed miserably at math, I was intelligent enough to know the threat currently pulsing like a disease between me and this fucker had everything to do with Karina.
“She’s not yours, Mancuso.”
He smiled, glanced in front of him, then back at me. “We’ll see about that.” He started to roll up his window. “I’ll see you around, Detective Stone.”
“Sure. You know where I live. Pop by for a beer sometime,” I said as the wheels of the car began turning and he drove down the road.
A breath escaped me, and I pulled my hand through my hair, thinking I just opened up a whole new world of shit for myself. Last night was an epic festival of fuck-ups. First, I couldn’t manage to leave Karina alone at the club, and I pursued her like she was fair game, in turn risking my entire fucking case against the Valenti family. Then the Mancusos walked in, and all of a sudden, I started acting like a jealous boyfriend by pinning the ugly fucker’s face against the wall. And as if that weren’t enough, I had to send Karina a message, which was completely dictated by my uncontrollable cock, and invited her over…for what? A nightcap…or two?
And then, of course, the stars were on my side by sending Karina to my front door, allowing me to end the night with a bang…twice.
Now I had the pleasure of having Enzio Mancuso threaten me in front of my apartment building, and it wasn’t even dawn yet. Motherfucker. Talk about a shit storm.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, and I pulled it out.
“Anderson?”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m on my way. Keep your damn pants on, Mary Poppins.”
This time I hung up before getting into my truck. Starting the ignition, pulling into the road, and driving to Vertigo all went down in record time. I’d probably get a speeding fine in the mail soon, but at the moment, that was the least of my worries.
I drove slowly down the road to Vertigo. There were police cars, red and blue lights, an ambulance, and an abundance of spectators in the area.
“What the fuck?”
I parked my truck, jumped out, and made my way through the crowd until I reached the yellow tape.
Monroe stopped me by placing a hand on my chest. “Sorry, man, you’re not permitted behind the yellow line.”
“Seriously?” With a slanted head and a cocked eyebrow, I glared at the idiot. “Are you seriously going to be an even bigger dick right now?”
Monroe opened his mouth, but then Anderson walked up.
“Let him through, Monroe.”
Monroe looked at him. “But Commander said—”
“Shut the fuck up. This is my scene, and I’m telling you to let him through.”
Well, well, well. My partner just managed to score himself some major points in my book.
I walked underneath the yellow tape and fell in step next to Anderson. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a huge problem.”
I’d known this guy for some time, and even though I’d never experienced him being anything but a sourpuss, the look of worry and concern on his face made me uneasy.
“What’s the problem?”
We rounded the corner to an alley that ran behind Vertigo. Anderson stopped and pointed ahead. “That’s the problem.”
A few officers scattered out of the way, and I saw a huge-ass motherfucking problem lying in front of a green dumpster.
“Gio,” I muttered, unable to take my eyes off his lifeless body.
“Yeah. Seems like he pissed off the wrong person this time.”
With his hands tied behind his back, his body awkwardly lying on its side, half his skull blown away and splattered against the dumpster behind him, it was obvious this was an execution.
“Motherfucker.” I rubbed my palm down my face and scratched my chin. “Gang related?”
Anderson nodded.
After the discussion Anderson and I had in my apartment a few days ago, one name popped into my head. “Mancusos?”
“I don’t think so.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You have any leads on who did this?”
He motioned with his head toward Gio’s body, and I followed him. There was so much blood and brain matter, it was a good a thing I lost my capacity to be grossed out by scenes like these, or I’d be spilling some serious stomach contents on my new Caterpillars right about now.
The scene was swarming with uniforms, f-bombs sounding all around while everyone tried to keep the scene intact until forensics did their job.
We stopped two steps away from the body, and I noticed his head was forced back from the blow, his mouth open, and the gold filling glinting as the sun started to rise behind us. Goddammit. Sure, he was a criminal with shit for brains, but the poor son of bitch didn’t deserve to die this way.
Anderson took his pen from his shirt pocket, crouched down, and pushed Gio’s bloodstained shirt to the side.
“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I stared at Gio’s chest. There was a carving in the flesh just below his throat, the blood already drying up around it. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I think so.” Anderson got up while I continued to stare at Gio’s chest.
“That’s a symbol,” I stated, my heart slowly creeping up my throat. “It’s a wolf.” I looked at Anderson. “The Valentis.”