King's Possession

by Stone, Piper

  Giancarlo finally nodded. “That could work. If Morales is planning an invasion of some kind, he won’t expect our cooperation.”

  “Don’t underestimate him. He seems to have eyes and ears everywhere.” I took a deep breath, waiting for his reaction.

  Cristiano sighed as Giancarlo narrowed his eyes. “What my brother is suggesting is that there might be several leaks in our respective organizations that need to be plugged.”

  Antonio bristled first, enough so Giancarlo threw his arm across his brother’s chest. “A pretty tall accusation.”

  “Perhaps, but one that’s necessary,” I said quietly.

  Giancarlo stared at me. “If it’s true, they will be driven out of their holes like the cockroaches they are.”

  “As will any in our organization,” Cristiano confirmed. “We need to be prepared. The streets are far too quiet.”

  “Our connections in Key West and Miami aren’t talking either,” I added. At least Michael had left the day before for Florida in an attempt to find out anything from his sources. There was also a distinct possibility Morales would come through Florida.

  “We’ll make another push with our people. If we hear of anything, we’ll let you know.” Giancarlo glanced into my eyes then back to Cristiano.

  One day, I knew in my gut the man would betray us.

  “Then we wait,” my brother said after a few minutes. He was almost as impatient as I was, but there was no other recourse, not with DEA breathing down our necks.

  “Agreed. Congrats on your recent marriage.” Giancarlo studied me intently. “From what I’ve heard, the Vitalis aren’t happy with the arrangement.”

  “I didn’t ask for their permission,” I said, grinning.

  Giancarlo tilted his head toward his brother. “A man with balls made of steel. That’s exactly what’s needed for the Underboss.”

  I could tell Antonio was miffed by his brother’s statement, Giancarlo refusing to give him more control.

  “Time to wait and see what happens, gentlemen. Let’s hope we’re wrong. If not, we go to war.” There was no emotion in Cristiano’s statement, just renewed resolve.

  A wait and see game was intolerable, even if it was necessary. However, my patience was all but obliterated.

  Even worse, my instincts remained constant.

  Morales was out for blood. He wouldn’t stop until our entire family was eliminated.

  * * *

  Two days later

  Two days.

  Of silence.

  Of aggravation.

  With only a single scrap of information.

  A confirmation that Morales was planning an attack.

  While few details had been provided, the Miami informant had insisted to Michael that his information had come from a reliable source from the lion’s den itself—a soldier in the cartel. While using basic street scum as any credible source required every scrap of evidence be taken with a grain of salt, from what Michael had told me, the man was well connected.

  That had put our entire family even closer to the edge.

  “What’s troubling you?”

  Genevieve had trailed me out to the garden. I heard the concern in her voice. There was no doubt my continued silence had unnerved her. We’d shared more than one special night together, more romantic than I’d ever participated in, then I’d fallen into my usual business mode. I’d also locked her down even more, keeping her belief that she was nothing more than a prisoner in a gilded cage.

  I turned to face her, almost ready to admonish her for leaving the house. What the fuck was wrong with me? The last thing I wanted for her was to feel like a caged animal, yet I continued to believe that given Morales knew of her existence, she would be a prime candidate to be used to get everything the snake wanted.

  The way the sunlight reflected off her flaxen hair was absolutely gorgeous. There was nothing pretentious about her from her dress to her attitude, yet she was by far the most formidable woman I’d ever met.

  And the one who’d stolen my heart.

  “Just business.” I couldn’t tell her that I feared for her life.

  She shielded her eyes and walked closer. “That’s what you’ve told me six times now.”

  I chuckled, taking long strides toward her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I’ve heard the speech a couple of times as well. It’s better than I don’t know. So, let me guess. The man who tried to kill us in Cartagena isn’t thrilled with whatever method of retaliation you used after the incident at the club. You’re expecting him in New Orleans any day now.”

  The frankness with which she made the statement couldn’t have surprised me any more than it did. There was also no emotion in her voice. I tugged off my sunglasses and gazed into her eyes. “Yes, which is why I must be more vigilant with the rules.”

  “I haven’t defied you in days,” she said, laughing as she brushed her hand through her windswept hair.

  “No, that is true. But I suspect it won’t last. You need to trust me, Genevieve. I understand that everything remains difficult, but I don’t want any harm to come to you.”

  She looked away, slanting her gaze. “Believe it or not, I do trust you. Just remember that I’m not a possession, as least not in the regard you thought I was.”

  “No, you are certainly not, and you don’t mind reminding me of that either.” I tilted her chin with my fingers, shaking my head. “That should be a punishable offense.”

  As she pressed both hands against me, she rose onto the balls of her feet, pressing her lips against my cheek. The rush of sensations by her simple act was far too enticing. “I’m sure you’ll make that a new mandate.”

  The sound of my brother’s approach made me stiffen.

  She seemed to sense my changing mood, looking over her shoulder. “I guess I’m required to leave you alone.” Even after issuing the words, she remained at my side, forever defiant.

  “Vincenzo,” I said, unable to read his expression.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. Genevieve. I hope you’re doing okay,” he said, trying to smile. That was the point I could tell whatever he had on his mind was about to affect my mood for the worse.

  “As good as to be expected. I’ll leave you to your business.” She gave me another flash of her eyes before walking away. When she turned around at the door, I could swear it was as if she was saying goodbye.

  “What is it?” I barked.

  “Cristiano received a message from Carlos Morales.”

  I snapped my head, glaring into his eyes. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Not the kind of thing I’d kid about. It’s also not something that should be discussed over the phone. The warehouse had a visit from DEA yesterday as well.”

  “Fuck. What does Morales want?”

  “A meeting. A face to face meeting.”

  There’d been several times that my father had met with a perceived enemy, trying to forge a basic cease fire before all hell broke loose. However, this was something entirely different. It was also out of the question.

  “Fucking no,” I snarked.

  “That’s not the way Cristiano sees it. To him, it’s an opportunity,” Vincenzo said quietly.

  “Not unless it’s one to put a bullet in his brain.”

  “Don’t you think that’s what all of us want to do?” He shook his head. “Get your head on straight about this. This isn’t the time to start a damn war and you know it. If we’re not killed, we’ll be rounded up and shipped off to some prison in freaking Iowa or Wisconsin. And I assure you that all our damn connections won’t be able to help us out of that one.”

  What he said was true, but it still pissed me off. “We can’t trust Morales on any level.”

  “No, we can’t, but we can talk to him on our terms and on our turf.”

  I rubbed my eyes, shoving my sunglasses into my pocket. “When is it supposed to happen?”

  “I’m not sure. If we agree then Morales will suggest a location. That’s al
l we know at this point.”

  As Brick came flying out of the house, I knew in my gut we were in for another round of trouble.

  “Sorry, boss. You ain’t gonna like this,” Brick said, trying to keep his usually booming voice down.

  Vincenzo looked at me before asking the question. “What is it?”

  “There’s some detective here. I’ve never seen him before. What do you want me to do with the guy?”

  I smirked, shaking my head. “Another day in damn paradise. That must be Detective Myers. Show him into my office. Offer him a drink. Then stay with him. Make sure that Genevieve stays out of sight. I don’t want her questioned.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “What the fuck?” I growled.

  “Just be cool, at least as much as you can,” Vincenzo almost teased. He knew exactly what I felt about yet another detective trying to provide glory to his name while seeking a promotion just out of the gate.

  “Our good friend, the police chief, is going to need to provide us with a taste of his loyalty to the family.”

  “Maybe so, but given the ongoing investigation, even he will need to be careful.”

  “Understood,” I said as I headed for the door, although I didn’t give a shit about how much heat he’d be forced to take. We were being pushed from two sides, two sides too many. “You might as well join me. I find it interesting he decided to come here.”

  Vincenzo huffed. “If I had to guess, I’d say he was taking us on one at a time.” He stopped me just before I walked inside. “I assume you give your approval for the meeting.”

  “Approval?” I asked, staring into his eyes. “Agreed as long as we’re there as a show of force.” Although the last thing we needed was to have our entire family in one location at the same time, I had a feeling our presence was necessary.

  “You’ll need to take that up with Cristiano.”

  “Not a problem. Let’s get this over with.” I took my time moving toward my office, standing just outside for a few seconds. I hadn’t been impressed with him the night of the shooting spree, his dour demeanor and questioning eyes pissing me off more than anything. Then again, I’d been concentrating on hunting down the fuckers involved.

  He turned quickly, darting his gaze back and forth, remaining calm and collected while standing in the middle of an enemy’s fortress.

  “Detective Myers. What an interesting surprise. Do you bring news of finding the people responsible for the event at the Throne Room?”

  He smirked, chuckling under his breath. “Event. You mean the near massacre?”

  We walked closer, flanking him on both sides.

  “A different nomenclature, Detective,” I stated, refusing to blink.

  “Yes, well, I’m actually here about the fire at one of the warehouses you own.”

  “Hmm… Given my brother, Cristiano, is actually in charge of that portion of our business, I suggest whatever you need, you talk to him.”

  “Oh, I intend on doing so.” His grin grew wider.

  His arrival was nothing more than grandstanding.

  “What are you doing here, Detective?” Vincenzo pushed.

  The detective took his time answering. “Just a courtesy visit in truth.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “For the purpose of letting you know that evidence was found at the warehouse, enough that I believe an identification can be made of the composition of the white powder. If what I suspect is true, the evidence will be enough for an arrest. What do you call the substance in your line of work? Party favors?”

  He was enjoying the meeting, hoping to rile one or both of us into divulging information. I gave him a huge smile, glancing over at my brother. “I’m not certain what you think the King’s corporation is into, Detective Myers, but you may be aware that certain chemicals are used in the polishing of raw diamonds. Our diamond brokerage business has been increasing exponentially, which requires additional chemicals. While certainly some might call them party favors given they could be on the receiving end of a beautiful and very rare priceless gem, it’s certainly not the kind of substance you’d want anyone to ingest.”

  I could tell my answer pissed him off and was one he hadn’t been expecting. Even a hint of anger was highlighted by the changing color of his complexion. “The great King family. You think you’re bigger than the law. I know exactly what your business entails and I intend on bringing you down as the bloodsucking murderers you really are. I’m here to put you on notice. You are going down.” He skirted around us, moving quickly to the door.

  Both Vincenzo and I turned, watching as he stormed out of the room.

  “I think you ruffled his feathers,” my brother said, half laughing. “That was good shit you spouted off there.”

  “Yeah, well, I doubt it’ll meant a damn thing if he’s not lying about evidence. How many police officers, detectives, and prosecutors have confronted us over the years?”

  Vincenzo snorted. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe four dozen since Pop’s time. Why?”

  I thought about what I was thinking before saying it. “Because the detective’s interest is bringing us down is entirely personal. We need to find out more about him.”

  “Interesting. I’ll get one of my men on it.”

  “Yeah, do that.”

  * * *

  Bravery.

  As he’d done with my brothers, my father had sat me down, explaining the true meaning of bravery on a cold winter day. To this day, he had a special leather chair in front of the fireplace in his office that he had refused to get rid of, no matter how many times my mother had asked him to. When I was a boy, I’d sneak into his office, climbing into the chair and pretending I was head of the family.

  I’d never forget the day he sat with his favorite cognac and cigar, telling a story about our grandfather while he’d been growing up in Italy. While the tall tale had several versions intended on teaching whatever concept my father believed was needed the most, the one selected for me was all about bravery.

  Even in the face of death.

  While it had never been confirmed, nor had I bothered trying, supposedly my grandfather was forced to take on a gang of eight men determined to destroy the winery owned by the family. Although he’d received several injuries, at least two of that could have cost him his life, he’d endured, killing all eight.

  The point of the story had been to remind me that protecting family was not only an honor but a requirement, even if it meant losing my life in doing so. I’d listened to every word, forming my own definition for bravery, which I held in my heart even today. He’d also reminded me that fear was for weaklings.

  Several years later he’d finally admitted that he believed in my commitment to the family, but not necessarily to my leadership capabilities.

  It had taken me years to close off enough emotions so that I had zero fear for anything. However, things had changed.

  As I studied Genevieve, watching the way her eyes lit up from observing everything inside the jazz pub, I realized that in refusing to allow anyone to get close to me, I’d shoved aside the possibility for concern.

  Or fear.

  I certainly had never feared death. The idea was simply a part of our world, a knowledge that one day I would make a mistake costing me everything.

  I hadn’t been to Fritzel’s European Pub in at least a year. The classic jazz bar featured Dixieland-style swing music, something that I could barely tolerate, but the owner provided a solid meeting place when necessary, including a well-hidden room in the back. He’d also been a friend of my father’s for years. It was as safe as any location in the French Quarter.

  For some ridiculous reason, I wanted her to have a good time before the meeting with Morales occurred. Maybe an unwanted premonition remained hidden in the back of my mind.

  “This is fabulous. I love it,” she said as she shifted her attention away from the band, leaning over the table.

  “What’s fabulous is the way you look t
onight.” I’d taken a chance, purchasing a few things that I hoped she would enjoy.

  She tilted her head before glancing down at the form-fitting, but elegant piece. The cerulean blue was stunning on her, bringing out purple and gold flecks in her irises. “Thank you. I love it. Now, I have to ask. Why did you bring me here?”

  “Why?” I asked as I swirled my bourbon, scanning the bar for the third time in less than ten minutes. While two of my soldiers remained on opposite sides of the bar, the discomfort and edginess refused to leave. “Because you deserved a second chance at enjoying a night out in New Orleans. And because I enjoy your company.”

  Pushing her cocktail aside, she shook her head very slowly. “I see in your eyes that it’s so much more. What are you afraid of?”

  The timing of the question was interesting as fuck. I couldn’t keep the chuckle from escaping. I leaned over the table, coming to within a few inches of her. “In case you haven’t learned by now, I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “How about Morales?”

  The fact she was pushing made me bristle. Even my mother never asked a single question any longer about the business. She knew better. Genevieve was certainly a different woman altogether, refusing to accept no for an answer on anything. “He is troublesome, but I don’t fear him.”

  “Then why purchase beautiful clothes and lingerie, wine and dine me at the most incredible and terribly expensive restaurant, then insist on bringing me into a jazz club? By the way, I can tell you can’t stand the music so don’t lie to me.”

  She had such a way of digging through every layer, pulling apart steel mesh as if it meant nothing to her endeavor. “I will always try and indulge my wife whenever possible. As long as you’re a good girl and play by the rules, you will find many enjoyments in our life together.”

  After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes. “There must be a dangerous situation in the next couple of days and you’re worried that something tragic is going to happen.”

  Exhaling, I gripped her chin, a slight burst of anger pulling me back to the sadistic man who didn’t give a shit about anyone. Then I stared into her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Fine, Genevieve. Don’t ask if you don’t want to know the truth. My world is full of ugliness, the kind of depravity and violence that makes what occurred the other night look like child’s play. Do you really want to enter the dark abyss of my world?”