I’d never been able to forget the day I met Mr. Lombardi. I suspected I never would, not with the way I still felt suspicious of the situation a year later.
"Mr. Lombardi?" I asked, confusion rising as I shook off my fright.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you." There was concern written on his face, much like there had been previously when we'd met in the law office and he'd given me the news of the trust.
"It's alright." I smiled at him, feeling ridiculous for the continual way I felt on edge. Like the way I felt eyes on me wherever I went couldn't possibly be anything other than Chad's work buddies monitoring the kids and I to be sure we were safe. "Can I help you with something?"
He cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders to stand taller. "Your benefactor would like to meet you, if you would please come with me."
"He—what?" I gaped in confusion.
"He feels the timing is more appropriate now that it’s been a year and you are no longer in the throes of your grief." He gestured to the luxury town car parked in front of the studio.
"Now?" I asked incredulously. The audacity of the man to assume that I had nothing better to do than be summoned when it was convenient for him. I owed him an impressive deal of gratitude for the way he'd handled our expenses for the last year, but being called on made me feel like a dog that needed to be brought to heel. "I have to go get my daughter."
"Surely your father can watch her for an extra hour, Mrs. Latour." Mr. Lombardi smiled at me, raising a brow like he dared me to contradict him. I should have known that he would know where Ines went while I worked, given the fact that this mysterious benefactor paid our bills. I had a feeling he knew far more about me than I would feel comfortable with.
"I'm not comfortable riding in your car to some undisclosed location. I'm sorry if that's insulting, it's just—"
"That's alright. I would be more concerned if you got in the car. Would you like me to give you the address, and I can meet you there to make the introduction?"
I considered saying no and requesting he meet me at a location we arranged ahead of time, but the prospect of him turning away when I might finally get the answers I’d wanted for a year was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I nodded, reassuring myself because of how accommodating he was. Serial killers didn't pay your bills for a year and then let you come with your own vehicle.
Right?
"That would be preferable, yes," I said in an attempt not to show the dark path my thoughts had taken. He slipped a card out of his pocket with a handwritten address on it and passed it to me.
"I'll see you in a little while, Mrs. Latour," he said with a slight smile before he strode for his town car. I went to the lot, dialing Dad to ask him to keep Ines for a bit longer as I went. It wasn't until I got in my car and pulled out that I realized Mr. Lombardi's town car was directly behind me and that he'd waited for me to leave.
I wasn't sure if that should feel reassuring.
But it didn't.
Nine
Ryker
I answered the ringing phone in my pocket. "Don?" I asked, and the man chuckled. Undoubtedly at the way my voice came out as a whisper. If he ever spoke a word of my nerves to the others, he’d doom me to a life of torment.
"I've made contact. She's driving herself as expected, but we're on our way."
"Good," I grunted before hanging up the phone and shoving it back in my pocket with a swallow.
I was going to come out of my skin.
It had been a long time since I'd felt so anxious, since I'd let someone else have enough power over me that they could riddle me with anxiety. But the knowledge that Calla was in her car, on her way to her new home, threatened to push me over the edge into a fit. They were the only people who would ever see the other side of me. The part of me I’d saved just for them.
I wanted to go to the gym on the other side of the warehouse I'd converted into a home for the four of us. Wanted to push myself until my body threatened to cave beneath the pressure.
I paced around on the rustic looking hardwood floors that I'd had refinished, my shoes tapping against the floor with every step. I hadn't wanted to wear a suit for Calla's first visit to her new home and her first impression of me in years, but we'd be picking Axel up from school shortly and that required a bit of clout. Calla's days of being the outcast in that school were done.
I'd invested enough money in the last few months that I practically owned it.
As I paced, I thought of Calla’s journey to her new home. I could only imagine what would go through her mind when she traveled farther and farther outside the city limits. Would she consider turning around?
Would she register the danger she willingly drove herself into?
It wouldn't matter in the end. Calla was far too curious not to meet me now that the opportunity presented itself. She'd want to meet the man who had managed her finances so efficiently for her. She'd want to meet the man who knew her husband better than she did.
Even if she didn't know that.
So even when her instinct was to turn back, my Sunshine would keep going. I knew that, even though she would fight it, she was as drawn to me as I was to her.
Like a thread tethered us together, she felt me when I was nearby. Like my very presence was ingrained in her soul, and she couldn't seem to rid herself of me. All it took was a few minutes together four years ago, but the bond between us pulled taut, anyway.
When the sound of cars came down the dirt driveway, I chanced a glance out the smaller windows at the front of the building. Sure enough, Calla's practical sedan made its way down the road as slowly as could be. Hesitation had no doubt set in as soon as her eyes landed on the building.
From the front, it did kind of look like a convenient place to murder someone.
I supposed that's why I liked it.
It was private, with nothing nearby. The front of the house was visible from the road that nobody ever traveled down, but trees came in from the woods surrounding it to disguise most of the property. From the front, no one would ever guess just how large the building was, or that there was a beautiful yard in the back.
It hadn't always been that way, of course. What the fuck did I need a yard for?
But my boy liked sports as much as he liked numbers, and it was about time my little Princess learned to swim.
Calla's car stopped out front, but she didn't move to get out until Don parked beside her and climbed out of the car. He smiled at her broadly, trying to reassure her. She returned it with a crooked smile that showed her nerves matched my own.
Stepping away from the window, I forced myself to move into the kitchen. Then I glanced around, wondering where I should be in the house when she walked in.
Did I sit down and try to make myself not look so big?
Did I stand and just own it?
Why the fuck hadn't I given it any thought?
Shit.
I was not ready for this. But fuck it.
It was time for my Sunshine to meet me again.
Ten
Calla
It was official.
I was going to die.
I’d let myself be lulled into a false sense of security, foolishly believing that Mr. Lombardi couldn’t mean to hurt me, because who paid for a year of expenses just to kill someone?
Apparently, my benefactor did, that’s who.
The drive up the dirt road hadn’t boded well for me, and I should have taken the sign for what it was and turned around. Because when the building came into view, I knew I was fucked.
An old warehouse. The original function seemed indiscernible at a glance. All that remained was a generic, boxy brick structure, but even with the signs of its age, it was clearly cared for. Someone had given it a modern touch with new windows, and the shrubbery in front of the building wasn’t overgrown.
A brand new and beautifully detailed massive brick fence surrounded the property, and even though the gate was thrown open when I pu
lled up, I wanted to crawl in a hole when I saw the guard booth tucked behind the fence, even if it was empty.
It felt like a prison, like whoever lived there put that fence to keep someone inside just as much as to keep the rest of humanity out.
What kind of monster needed to be caged inside an old warehouse? Why would Chad have been friends with someone like that?
When I finally pulled my car in front of the building, I still couldn’t convince my body that it was time to get out—not when pure terror pulsed through me. The same way that my body randomly tingled with the awareness of being watched, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrific was about to walk into my life.
Stepping foot inside that building would mean horrible things for me. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to put the car in reverse either. I couldn’t walk away from whatever waited for me inside.
When Mr. Lombardi parked his car next to mine, the older man didn’t hesitate to climb out of his car and make his way to me with an enormous smile. He tugged my door open, and I had the distinct impression he really was that much of a gentleman, but that the circumstances at present also just dictated he ushered me into the house.
It was disconcerting, but I somehow unbuckled my seatbelt and turned off the ignition in the car. When my legs swung out of the car, I glanced down at my yoga pant clad thighs and winced. Meeting my mysterious benefactor in workout gear had probably not been my smartest choice, but I supposed it wouldn’t matter if he killed me.
And it wasn’t like they’d given me much choice after picking me up from the studio and demanding I come immediately.
With a little groan of annoyance at myself, I stood from the seat and let Mr. Lombardi close the door. I took the arm he held out, letting him guide me to the front door even though I wanted to run in the other direction.
When his hand touched the door, I spun to look back at the gated driveway as the wrought iron clicked together dramatically and sealed me inside. The man at my left only patted my arm in some pathetic attempt to be reassuring, but we were so past that point it didn’t matter.
“What’s going on?” I asked him finally.
“I assure you, you’re perfectly safe. For security reasons, it’s necessary for Mr. Fiore to take certain precautions with his privacy and the safety of his home. That’s all.”
“Maybe I should go,” I protested when he turned the knob on the door. “I can meet him in a public place. I didn’t imagine this would be so private when I agreed to come here. I imagined another office, not his home.” I glanced toward my car, wondering if I should just get back in and go. Something felt wrong about the entire situation, and my skin tingled as it tried to warn me of the coming danger.
“This is where he wanted the meeting to take place. He will never hurt you, please know that. I wouldn’t allow myself to be involved in this if I thought otherwise,” he said reassuringly. The knob turned finally, and he shoved the door in until I was peering inside.
The sight of the bright entryway and luxurious kitchen that greeted me shocked me momentarily, but it couldn’t distract me from the dread I felt when I turned to face Mr. Lombardi again. “Involved in what, exactly?”
He clenched his jaw, guiding me inside the front door. It took more force than it had previously, more like my legs solidified and just couldn’t be convinced to cross that final threshold.
I knew when I did, nothing would be the same ever again. I had no clue how I could know something like that, but I could feel him inside. Whoever he was.
Waiting.
My skin pebbled in goosebumps, the hair rising on my arms when the door closed behind me and trapped me inside the space. When the massive figure rounded the corner from behind the brick wall, the first thing I saw was the piercing blue of his eyes as he stared at me.
The same blue eyes that had haunted my dreams and consumed my pleasure for the year since Chad died.
When my eyes darted over his face to his midnight hair, there was no denying the obvious. No denying the similarity between him and the man I’d met in the park years prior, even if the one in front of me was a few years older and a few sizes broader.
I knew him.
“Hello, Tesoro.”
“Mrs. Latour this is—”
“Don’t call her that,” the massive beast of a man growled at Mr. Lombardi.
Nerves had me biting my lip before I spoke. “But that’s my name. Am I in the wrong place?” I asked, turning wide eyes back to Mr. Lombardi at my side.
“You’re right where you belong.” The deep voice drew my attention back to him.
“Calla,” Mr. Lombardi corrected with a sheepish smile. “This is Ryker Fiore. He’s been your benefactor for the last year.”
“It's nice to meet you,” I said, trying to smile through my discomfort.
“You can go, Don,” the man named Ryker said to Mr. Lombardi.
Don nodded, touching my shoulder briefly before he turned for the door. “Wait!” I protested. “I don’t think—”
“Come sit down, Sunshine. We have things to discuss.”
I bristled, my annoyance allowing Don to slip out the door and close it behind him. “I do have a name, you know?” I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest.
He grinned at me, looking far too handsome although his body mass and the scars on his face made him look too menacing to ever really be beautiful.
He was dangerous, with those bright eyes that seemed too animalistic to be human, far closer to a wolf stalking prey in the night. A scar ran through his nose where it went slightly crooked like he’d broken it at some point, and a thick scar ran through his right eyebrow and left the faintest line on his cheek underneath it. He held out a hand for me, and I hesitated before I stepped forward to place mine in his.
Heat engulfed me instantly, his palm feeling like a furnace as it scalded me. With my much smaller hand enclosed in his, he guided me down the slight step and into the living area. He towered over me as I walked beside him, and the way he clenched his teeth only exaggerated the dramatic angular lines of his square jaw.
The living room was comfortable, despite its industrial original purpose. The flat screen television was tucked under where the stairs wound against the brick wall that separated the living and kitchen spaces. A large sectional looked comfortable but stylish and modern in the space and he led me straight for it. I instantly wanted to turn and go back to the table I’d seen in the kitchen, but let him guide me to the couch, regardless.
He pressed down on my shoulder in one corner of the u-shaped sofa, letting me take my seat before he sat next to me. His knee touched mine, and the moment felt unbearably intimate.
I suspected it would have felt that way with any man, given the circumstances, but with Ryker, it just seemed more. My body came to life. It buzzed with attraction in the same way it had that day all those years ago when I hadn’t been able to do anything but discourage it and feel guilty for feeling it at all. I’d been married and happily at that. Being attracted to another man wasn’t something I allowed myself to feel, so I’d taken comfort in the fact that I’d never see the man again.
But I no longer had the protection of a husband to keep me from feeling something I shouldn’t, and I’d walked into a situation I felt incapable of dealing with now.
Or you know, ever.
I had a feeling I’d never be ready to deal with the reality that was Ryker Fiore.
“You must have questions,” he grunted finally, and I realized he still clutched my hand in his. Giving a gentle, testing tug, I pulled it back. He released it, and I used it to tuck my hair behind my ear and smile sheepishly. I felt mollified that he’d released me, that he respected my boundaries enough to let me control my body in the space he’d put me.
But when I set my hand back on my thigh, he grabbed it in his again and his hand was like a brand even through my yoga pants. I stared at the contact in confusion for a moment, before I pressed on.
I needed to get th
e fuck away from him, and to do that I needed to get this conversation out of the way and get the answers to the questions that had built within me for a year.
“I don’t understand what’s going on. You knew Chad?” I asked, and I fought the urge to flinch when his hand tightened in mine and his jaw clenched.
His blue eyes were intense on mine when he answered. “I worked with him here and there.”
“You’re an officer?” I asked, and his lips curved into the hint of a smile.
“Let’s just say I work in criminal justice and leave it at that. Chad consulted with my boss sometimes, but I was his point of contact.”
“I-okay,” I whispered. “That day in the park, was it just a coincidence?”
“No, Tesoro. That was when your husband first started working with us. Sometimes my job requires me to investigate new contacts.”
“You investigated me?” I said, yanking at my hand. He didn’t release it, only held it securely without hurting me. “I thought you and Chad were friends. Why would you investigate his wife?”
“I never said we were friends,” he growled in warning, only confirming my suspicion that the man was more animal than man. “I said I worked with him.”
I turned my eyes up to his face, meeting his challenging gaze with a glare of my own. “If you weren’t friends, Chad never would have trusted you to handle the money he left us. He would have left it with his partner or—”
“The money that has supported you and the kids didn’t come from your husband. Don told you what he needed to in order for you to accept the money you needed.” I yanked my hand from him so hard that he had no choice to release me unless he wanted to hurt me. As I stood, I took comfort that he didn’t seem to want to hurt me. At least not yet.
“But his signature was on those papers,” I argued, spinning back to face him once I had the luxury of distance. With his hand off of me, without his skin on mine, I could think more clearly. Somehow, the proximity to him had clouded my head and brought my body to the forefront.
Grieved Loss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 3) Page 5