“I said quiet!”
I nod and look around frantically, hoping maybe someone will notice us and call the cops. No one looks our way. They are busy looking at their phones and hustling off to the next meeting or errand. I finally look down at my bag and wince when I see the books in a heap on the ground. One landed in a puddle while a few of the others are open and face-down in the grimy sludge in front of the dumpster.
“Got her phone and wallet,” says the man who assaulted my precious books.
“Good. Dump the rest.”
It takes everything in me not to cry out at the thought of throwing any book away, let alone an incredible series. Not to mention the fact they’re library books I’ll now have to pay for. I suppose that should be the least of my worries, but I’m nothing if not a practical penny pincher.
“Wait,” the apparent leader of the group says. I’m hopeful he’s changed his mind and will spare the books. “Keep the bag.”
The other man nods and hands it over. Before I have time to register what’s happening, the canvas bag that once held my books is placed over my head. The handles are tied together at the back of my neck to keep it snug over my face, though they aren’t choking me at all. Next, I feel a zip tie tighten around my wrists, and then the two men grip my arms roughly and drag me farther down the alley, shoving me into the waiting car.
I’m on the verge of a panic attack, my muscles ache from being so tense and trembling, and my heart is darting from the pit of my stomach up to my throat, making me both nauseous and unable to breathe.
Ninety-nine percent of me is filled with abject terror. But one, teeny, tiny percent of me can’t help but feel like I’m finally having an adventure of my own.
Chapter 2
Matteo
“God fucking dammit!” I roar, pressing the end call button. That’s not nearly satisfying enough, so I throw my phone against the wall, pleased when it shatters and falls to the ground. Luca won’t be happy about having to set me up with a new one, but I don’t give a fuck.
I own this city. As the head of the Moscatelli crime family, the seedy underworld of Chicago is my kingdom. Along with the four other families, that is. One of which we were doing business with down by the docks.
There’s been a tentative peace between the families for nearly a decade – ever since I stepped into power. Previously, the Moscatelli’s were at war with two other families. The remaining two families swept in and claimed unprotected territories while the rest of us were distracted. That shit ended the day Alfonzo was shot between the eyes and I took his place at the head of the family.
At thirty years old, I was the youngest person to ever hold that position and I’ve had to fight like hell to prove myself a worthy leader. A powerful leader. A feared leader.
I cleaned house ruthlessly, getting rid of the power-hungry, the unnecessarily cruel, and those with their own agenda. I demand absolute loyalty from the men and women in this family, and I give it in return. It took years to shape us into what I’ve always envisioned, and I won’t let any threat stand against us. Including the little spy.
Emilio didn’t give me any details, he just said the meeting with Stefano Ricci and his men was cut short and they apprehended someone who was sneaking around and taking photos, possibly even recording everything on video.
Unlike other Dons, or even those within my own organization, I don't revel in death and violence. That being said, I can be a brutal killer when the occasion calls for it. But I'm not blood-thirsty, and those closest to me aren't either.
But a spy? A possible mole in either our family or the Ricci family? I can’t imagine a scenario where that person doesn’t leave here in a few pieces to be thrown into Lake Michigan. I’ve worked too hard, for too long, and sacrificed too damn much, to tolerate this shit.
As if summoned by my vengeful thoughts, the door swings open and Thomas and Chains step inside the holding cell of sorts, in the basement of the main house on my compound. Emilio follows behind, dragging the little fucker who thought he could topple my kingdom.
I don’t get a good look at the dead man walking since he’s short and mostly hidden behind the bulky frames of Chains and Thomas, but he has enough sense to stay quiet while my men explain what happened.
“We barely got five minutes into the trade deal when Stefano spotted someone sneaking around with their phone out,” Emilio starts.
“Yeah, he got spooked and said everything was off. He says we can’t be trusted,” Thomas adds.
“Fucker,” I grit out.
“She only ran a few blocks before we got her, boss,” Chains assures me.
“Wait. What? She?”
Emilio nods and shoves the spy forward, making her stumble a bit as she shoulders her way through the men who tower over her.
Holy fucking shit.
The woman is dressed in loose-fitting clothes, but there’s no hiding those luscious curves. I can’t stop my eyes from traveling up her thick thighs and wide hips. My hands clench into fists just imagining how soft her flesh would feel under my calloused skin. And then there’s her tits. Jesus. A man could get lost in between those beautiful breasts.
But I’m not that man.
I swallow down my lustful thoughts and focus my attention back to the present. Something isn’t adding up and I intend to figure it out, right the fuck now.
My eyes snap up to the culprit’s face, only to discover a fucking bag over her head. I don’t know why that angers me so much. I’ve killed with my bare hands, tortured confessions out of people, and witnessed more violence and destruction than most, but the thought of this woman experiencing any kind of discomfort feels like a knife to the gut. I would know.
I fight the urge to yell at my men to get the hell out of here so I can be alone with the shaking, silent creature presented to me like an offering, but I have an image to maintain. I haven't had a woman since climbing my way to the top and I'm sure as hell not falling for someone who has the power to bring everything crashing down.
“Let me see her,” I bark. The woman winces at my harshness, and I ignore the tightness in my chest at causing her any fear.
Thomas unties the makeshift mask and reveals the face of a goddamn angel. He reaches out to remove the cloth in her mouth, but I snarl at him, a sudden possessiveness taking hold of every cell in my body. No one touches her. No one but me.
I remove the makeshift gag, watching her cough and sputter. My hands itch to rub her back until she calms down, but I know better than to act on that urge.
I’m momentarily struck dumb at the sight of her. She has full, pouty lips, a delicate nose, and high cheekbones. But it’s her eyes that slay me. Crystal blue, almost transparent in this lighting. They don’t hide anything from me. I can see every emotion in the clear, deep waters of her eyes.
There’s fear, for sure, but also a quiet determination. This may be the first time she’s come face to face with the mafia, but it’s not the first time she’s been threatened or scared for her life. I want to kill whoever harmed her in the past. I want to dismember them slowly, piece by piece, and watch the horror and pain flicker across their eyes as they face certain death.
Fuck. She’s a weakness. A temptation. A distraction. But more importantly, she’s a liability.