Chapter 3

• GUSTAVO
• ~•~
• For the first time in months, I could sit in my own place and breathe without feeling like some fed was crawling up my spine. The damn news played on low in front of me, the anchor droning on about god-knows-what, and I barely heard a word. Not that I even cared to.
• Ever since Romano got yanked from his post, things had started to settle again. That prick Paul Romano was the type who didn’t scare easy. Bastard thought wearing a badge made him invincible, fed him with the delusion that he could bury a man like me in files and reports and subpoenas.
• He was gone now, and I was back in full control.
• I sat in my chair, the soft leather molding around me with my fingers steepled under my chin, watching the screen. The sirens outside kept their rhythm. Distant and faint—like the city was singing me back to sleep.
• Then the phone vibrated.
• I lifted my hand, and Benny stepped up behind me like clockwork, passing it over like he was trained to.
• “Yeah, Tony?” I said as I pressed it to my ear.
• His voice was tight. No hello, no bullshit. “Boss, we got a problem.”
• I didn’t say anything.
• “Rafael just called in. He got hit about twenty minutes ago.”
• “What’d you mean he got hit, Tony?” I asked, now sitting up.
• “He was ambushed, boss. Said it was an armed crew with masks. H—he said they… that they took everything, sir.”
• My fingers tightened around the phone.
• “What the fuck did you just say?”
• He hesitated. “The shipment, boss. Rafael said it’s gone.”
• I stood so fast that the chair slammed backward. The whole room seemed to freeze.
• “That’s the third fucking time this week!” I roared. “Three times, Tony! First the spoiled product, then my guy gets lit up at fucking noon in Queens, and now this?! What the fuck is going on?!”
• My hands were folded into fists before I even realized and I paced, back and forth, my chest rising hard. I was burning from the inside.
• “Why the hell was Rafael even on the move tonight without proper coverage? We’re moving half a million dollars in gear, and you’re telling me he had two shadow cars like we’re hauling groceries?!”
• “We didn’t expect—”
• “No! You don’t expect shit, Tony! You prepare for it! You’ve been in this game long enough to know that!”
• Tony’s voice dipped. “Boss, the guys were sharp. They didn’t even see them coming. Said they like pros. Could be someone trying to muscle in.”
• “Don’t give me fucking guesses!” I snapped. “You think I care if they were fast?! I want fast! I want answers! I want names! You hear me?”
• “Y—yes boss, I hear you.”
• “No. You listen to me, Tony. I’ve been building this operation since before half of you knew how to shave. I clawed this city from the dirt. From piss-stained alleys and backroom deals. And now someone thinks they can walk into my backyard and take what’s mine?”
• “We’re already checking every contact. Street kids, drivers, informants—”
• “Check harder,” I growled. “I want this crew ID’d by morning. If they’ve got names, I want addresses. If they’ve got addresses, I want ashes. Bring me their fucking heads, Tony. I don’t care how you do it.”
• “I’ll handle it, sir.”
• I hung up—cutting it off clean.
• I stood there for a second, breathing heavy as I tried to pull it back in. Then I snapped my fingers once.
• Benny knew exactly what to do. He came forward and lit my cigarette and then I took a long deep drag and held it in before letting it out slow.
• The smoke curled around me, and then my pulse started to settle.
• The door creaked open and in walked Matteo, like he owned the fuckin’ building.
• “Damn,” he said, glancing at me. “You look like you just found your accountant skimming your offshore accounts.”
• I didn’t even turn my head. Just stared at the blank TV screen in front of me.
• “Tony called,” I muttered. “We lost half a million in product. Another heist. Same bullshit.”
• Matteo’s grin faltered just a little. “Shit.”
• “Yeah. Shit.”
• He moved toward the bar, poured himself two fingers of scotch, and leaned back against the counter.
• “Not just rough,” I said, jaw clenched. “It’s war now.”
• Matteo swirled the drink in his hand, gave me a look. “You’ve got more money than the city budget, cousin. Half a mil shouldn’t be enough to wrinkle that suit.”
• I shot him a look, and he lifted both hands in mock surrender.
• “Okay, okay. No jokes. Just saying—you’re tight right now and you need to let it out before you start killing your own guys for breathing.”
• I didn’t say anything. Just lit another cigarette, letting the smoke sit in my lungs before letting it go slow.
• “You should hit Inferno tonight,” he said, grinning again. “Blow off some of that steam. The pretty sexy girls are still working. You know you always come back from there calmer.”
• I should’ve waved it off, told him to shut the fuck up and get serious. But instead, I just sat there, letting the name ‘Inferno’ hang in the air.
• It wasn’t the girls I thought of—the ones who threw themselves at my lap or whispered fake sweetness in my ear, it was her.
• That waitress. Valentina Russo. Her name hit like a bullet wrapped in velvet.
• She walked like she didn’t owe the room a damn thing. No glitter, just those cool sexy eyes and quiet confidence wrapped in plain black fabric that somehow made her stand out even more.
• I remembered the way she looked at me without fear like she was staring through me and daring me.
• That stuck with me.
• That girl wasn’t like the others. She didn’t seem to want to play my game nor did she try to charm her way into my wallet and that made her a hell of a lot more interesting.
• But it wasn’t just the way she moved. It was who she was. The daughter of Paul fucking Romano. The badge who tried to wreck everything. The man who nearly lit a match to years of work, who nearly took me down.
• Now his daughter was serving drinks in my club?
• The universe had a sick sense of humor. Or maybe it was handing me a gift. I took another drag and let it burn a little deeper this time.
• “I think I’ll stop by the club tonight,” I said quietly.
• Matteo looked up, eyes lighting up like a kid getting keys to the candy store.
• “Now that’s the Gustavo I know.”
• But my mind wasn’t on the music or the lights. It wasn’t on the strippers or the usual games.
• It was on my fiesta Valentina.
• She thought walking out meant she’d won something. She had no idea what kind of world she just brushed against. No idea what saying no to me really meant.
• I wasn’t the type to chase but I sure as hell wasn’t the type to let something slip by, either.
• See you soon, my feisty cat.