A knock on my door surprises me, and I glance at the clock on the wall. I’m at work, and not expecting Dee, my next client, for another forty-five minutes. I penciled a free hour in today so I could catch up on paperwork and update my records in our patient system.
Opening the door, I find Alesso wearing a lopsided grin and holding two paper cups. He’s been hanging around inside the building all week, much to the manager’s consternation. I don’t know what’s going on in the big bad mafia world, but tensions appear to be running high, and Alesso and Frank have been extra vigilant. The guys are all sharing rotations at night so Ian can guard Rowan with Frank during the day.
I’m pissed Ben left on Sunday without filling me in. If things are bad enough Rowan needs two bodyguards while he’s at school, then I should have been informed. I was tempted to call him and raise hell, but I would rather wait until I have calmed down and talk face to face. Ben has dragged me and Rowan into this life, whether we chose it or not, and it’s about time I understood it better. I don’t want or need all the gory details—just enough to understand the risks more clearly.
“Green tea,” Alesso says, thrusting one of the cups at me.
“Let me guess. Another peace offering from Lucille?”
Our new receptionist still hasn’t gotten the hang of our computer system, and she has messed up a ton of shit in her few weeks here. Last week, she accidentally wiped out the records for ten of my current clients. Hence why I’m manually adding their records back into the system. Lucille offered to do it, but I don’t trust her. So, she has resorted to other means of making it up to me. I told her she didn’t need to buy me tea every day, but she seems insistent.
“Yep.” He waves his coffee cup at me. “And it seems I’m on the apology list too. This is my third free coffee this week.”
“What’d she do to you?” I ask, setting the cup down beside my printer.
“Nothing. I guess she sees me as an extension of you.” He grins, and I like the easygoing nature of our relationship. I thought he might be embarrassed after telling me his story, but he seems almost relieved to have shared it, and an additional barrier has lowered between us.
Now, I just need to work on loosening Frank up. He’s as tight-lipped as they come but very mannerly and respectful. He’s sweet with Rowan, even though I can tell he’s a little uncomfortable around young kids. The most important thing is, Rowan likes him, and he has taken to having a bodyguard like a duck to water.
“She wants to get in your pants,” I tell him, smirking. And why wouldn’t she? Alesso is hot with his dark hair, dark eyes, and ripped body, and I’ve seen her drooling over his tattoos. He arches a brow, like it’s unheard of for a woman to lust after him. “Why do you look surprised? You can’t tell me women aren’t throwing themselves at you. You certainly got your fair share of admiring glances last weekend.”
“I don’t have time for women,” he says, sounding too much like his boss.
“You don’t have time for them, or you don’t like them?” I inquire, leaning against the doorway. “Are you batting for the other team and you neglected to mention it?” I probe with a teasing smile. “Because I gotta say, the idea of you being into men gets me hot.” I have watched some gay porn, and it seriously gets my juices going. There is just something about two men fucking that gets me all worked up.
“I’m not into men.” He rushes to reassure me. “I like women. I fuck women. But that’s all I’m interested in.”
I push on. “Lucille is pretty.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” he grunts, and I giggle. He’s right though. I’m procrastinating because I freaking hate admin tasks.
“You should ask her out. She’s a terrible receptionist, but she seems like a sweet girl.”
“Go. Work,” Alesso says before drinking his coffee and pulling the door shut.
I’m chuckling as I plonk down in my chair, hauling my mail in front of me as I pop my AirPods in and crank up “Sad Song” by We the Kings. I’ll sort my mail first and then attack the mountainous pile of files propped beside my desktop PC. I play “Sad Song” and “Without You” by The Kid LAROI on a loop, as they are feeding my mood today. I’m so engrossed in my work and immersed in the lyrics I forget all about my tea, only remembering it when it’s too cold to drink.
I’m singing away when the door to my room bursts open without warning. I swivel on my chair, and all the blood drains from my face as I lock eyes with the stranger standing in my doorway. The man is wearing faded black slacks, a black leather jacket, and a black turtleneck that barely fits around his wide neck, looking like an extra in a dodgy B-movie from the seventies. His cropped black hair is shorn tight to his head, and there’s an ugly scar running along one cheek, which gives me awful flashbacks of that night in the basement in Vegas with Scarface Salerno.
Behind him, Alesso is slumped on the floor in the hallway, and my pulse throbs wildly in my neck as fear races through my veins. I can’t tell if he’s passed out or dead. Panic jumps up and bites me as the man narrows beady eyes on me, cursing in a foreign tongue as he shuts the door and cracks his knuckles. His nostrils twitch, and his mouth pulls into a snarl as he rakes his gaze over me.
I’m momentarily frozen as we stare at one another, but the instant he moves a foot forward, I jump up, stumbling against my chair and almost losing my balance as I step away from him. Ripping out my AirPods, I discard them on the floor. “Stay back!” I shriek, raising my palms while my eyes flit to my purse at the far end of the desk. The gun Ben gave me is in there, and if I can get to it, I might be able to defend myself. Alesso and I have gone to the gun range a couple of times, and I know the basics.
“This would be much easier if you were sleeping,” he says, advancing with a menacing snarl. He has an accent. Clearly European, and I’m guessing he might be Russian. “Come with me now, and I won’t hurt anyone else,” he adds, as if I can believe a word that comes out of his mouth.
As if I would willingly go anywhere with him.
I lunge for my purse, and he jumps me from behind. Grabbing my wrist, he digs his nails into my sensitive flesh before twisting. His other hand comes to my mouth, stifling my scream of pain. My purse plummets to the floor, and potent terror whittles through me when he drops my aching wrist and his meaty hand grips my hip. His front is pressed against my back, and a deep shudder works its way through me. Bile travels up my throat, and I know I need to do something before all hope is lost.
I shove my elbow back, meeting soft flesh, but it doesn’t dislodge him, so I bite down hard on his hand, sinking my teeth into his callused flesh. A muffled roar is quickly followed by a slew of cursing as he yanks his hand back on instinct. Reaching around me, I grab his junk and squeeze it, hoping I don’t puke, while I simultaneously stomp down hard on his foot.
He staggers back with a loud roar, and I seize the opportunity, dropping to my knees and sliding under the desk to grab my purse. My fingers have just reached it when I’m yanked back by my hair. I scream as stinging pain rips across my scalp.
“Suka,” he hisses, dragging me out one-handed by my ponytail. Pain dances across my head as I thrash about, trying to pry his hand away. Lifting me by my hair, he throws me face-first against the wall. My face slams into the framed certificate, which takes a place of pride on the wall, and the sharp edge of the wooden frame pierces my cheekbone, drawing blood. A throbbing sensation radiates across my face, but I barely feel it over the adrenaline pumping through my body and the blood thrumming through my ears. I slump to the ground, automatically cradling my sore cheek, my fingertips coming away bloody.
He comes at me again, cupping his crotch with one hand. I kick his shin, and he stumbles. Leaning forward, I push him hard, and he takes a tumble. I crawl away, scrambling to my feet as I race to my desk for my gun, but he’s on his feet fast. His hands wrap around my neck from behind as he shoves me forward. The edge of my desk presses into my stomach as I claw at his arms, struggling to draw enough oxygen in
to my lungs.
I’m going to die.
That’s the only thought going through my mind as he grips my throat tighter. My hands wander haphazardly around my desk, looking for something I can use as a weapon, latching on to the silver letter opener under some papers. He hasn’t noticed. He’s too busy squeezing the life from my body, so he doesn’t see me lift it and drag the sharp point swiftly across his hand.
He yells, stumbling back, as blood pours from the wound.
I don’t hesitate.
I don’t stop to think.
It’s kill or be killed.
Adrenaline, instinct, and the will to survive drive me forward, and I do what needs to be done.
Launching myself at him, I bury the letter opener in the side of his neck, shoving it to the hilt. It goes in a lot easier than I imagined. Blood sprays from the wound, hitting me in the face, and I know I have hit an artery.
His eyes pop wide as he staggers back, his legs going out from under him. He collapses flat on his back on the carpeted floor, making a strange gurgling sound. Blood leaks from his neck and spills from his mouth as I stand frozen in place, my entire body trembling as I hold a shaky hand over my lips. I see the moment the light dies in his eyes, and his body stops twitching.
Oh my God. I killed him. I just killed a man.
It seems like barely any time has passed, but time has lost all meaning as I stand rooted to the spot, numb with shock. I stare at the dead man with my letter opener stuck in his neck, shaking uncontrollably until I push through the fog in my brain and spring into action.
Rowan!
What if they have gone after him too? I know this is no random attack. Ben was worried this week for a reason, and it’s obvious this is connected. The dead guy must be Russian, and whatever beef he had with them still exists. I curse myself for not demanding Ben tell me more, and I make a silent promise to get answers from him.
But it can wait. Right now, I need to make sure our son is safe.
Racing out to the hall, I drop to my knees beside Alesso. I’m panting heavily as I press a finger to the pulse in his neck, emitting a cry of relief when I feel the steady vibration under his skin. I look up, grateful Wednesdays are usually quiet at the center and that it’s the manager’s day off.
Dragging Alesso into my room by his feet, I lock the door, praying to every deity known to mankind that he wakes up soon. I need him. Flinging papers off my desk, I find my cell and dial Frank’s number with shaky hands. He answers immediately and I almost cry in relief. “Where’s Rowan?” I shout. “Is he safe? Do you have eyes on him right now?”
“He’s in class.” I hear the confusion and concern in his tone. “He’s safe. I’m looking at him right now. What’s going on, Sierra? Where’s Alessandro?”
“I don’t have time to explain. I just need you to take Rowan out of class right now and drive him to my parents’ house.” I’m not risking going home. If they know where I work, they know where I live. Dad has a security firm on speed dial, and the house is like Fort Knox. It’s the safest place I can think of. “I was attacked, but I’m okay. They drugged Alesso, but he has a pulse. I’m going to call Ben now, but I need you to keep our son safe. Please, Frank. Don’t let anything happen to him.”
“I will protect your son with my life, Sierra. I promise you that. Ian is here, and we won’t let anyone harm him. Call Ben and hold tight until he sends reinforcements. Call me back if you need me.”
I hang up without a goodbye, instantly pressing Ben’s number. I have never called him before, and I don’t know how easy he is to get a hold of. All our arrangements are usually done by text or prearranged the previous week. My heart is racing like a Formula 1 car as the phone rings and rings. Eventually, just before it disconnects, he picks up.
“Sierra. Is everything okay?” he asks before I have said a word.
Brief relief rushes through me when I hear his voice. In a garbled tone, I tell him what has happened.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” It’s not really a lie even if my wrist is hurting, my cheek stings, and my throat feels scraped raw.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” he says in a calm voice that offers much-needed reassurance. “Do you have your gun on you?”
I nod until I remember he can’t see me. “Yes. I have it.”
“Get it. Keep the door locked and your gun pointed at it. Fire at anyone who enters unannounced. I am going to send men to you, and I’ll contact Frank.”
“If they get to Rowan, I—”
“No one is touching our son,” he growls, and I hear movement in the background. His breath sounds uneven, like he might be running. Muffled conversation filters down the line as he talks to someone I can’t hear. “Leo is talking to Frank,” he confirms. “They are in the car en route to your parents’ house. No one appears to be following them.”
Air whooshes out of my mouth in grateful relief. “If anything happens to him, Ben, I will die,” I sob, as tears spill out of my eyes and down my cheeks.
“Sierra. Listen to me. Rowan is safe. No one is getting past Frank and Ian. I need you to stay calm, sweetheart, until I can get help to you. Can you do that for me, Firefly?”
I nod again. “What about the dead guy?” I whisper.
“I’ll handle it. Just focus on protecting yourself until Alessandro wakes or my men arrive.”
A sob rips from my mouth, and I feel so cold. I think it’s delayed shock. “Okay,” I whisper, wishing he was here and not miles away in New York.
“Sierra,” he says in a gentle tone. “You did good. You did real good, sweetheart, and you are going to be fine. So is Rowan.” I don’t know if he believes it or he’s just saying it to stop me from losing my shit. “I am coming to take care of you. I will be there as soon as I can, and I will keep you both safe. I promise.”
“Hurry,” I whisper before hanging up.
31
BEN
“That’s organized. The helicopter will be waiting for us at the airport,” Leo confirms, placing his cell on the walnut table situated between us. Leaning back in the seat of the private jet, I swirl the bourbon in my glass, but I can barely stomach drinking it. I am sick with worry even though I know Sierra and Rowan are safe at her dad’s place.
I got my personal plane in the air in record time, and we should arrive at the Lawson estate in less than an hour, but it’ll still be almost three hours in total from the time of my call with Sierra before I reach her and Rowan. That is three hours too long. I don’t know what I was thinking leaving them there after the Russians were poking around last weekend. I should have insisted they return to New York with me, but I let my reluctance to have Sierra close impair my judgment.
Never again.
I will just have to learn to control myself around her because there is no way I’m leaving my family in Chicago after this.
“Are you sure we can trust Joseph Lawson?” Leo asks, sipping slowly on his scotch. “I know you don’t like him.”
“I don’t have to like him to trust him in this scenario, and it was my only option.” It would have taken me too long to get my own crew to Chicago. I needed someone to get Sierra out of her place of work ASAP because I didn’t know if the Russians had more men outside. “This whole thing is fishy. I know the Russians are getting more organized—their successful attack on Vegas proves that—so why send in only one guy?” Lawson called me after his men picked up Sierra and Alessandro to confirm there were no other assailants found. He also arranged for removal and disposal of the dead body.
“The guy could’ve gone rogue.”
I nod slowly. “Perhaps, but it’s not their latest MO.” The Bratva were notoriously disorganized until a few years ago when they started getting their shit together. They are definitely more structured now and a much bigger threat considering their numbers across the US rival ours. They snuck up on Vegas and snatched the territory right out of Salerno’s hands. No one noticed anything was amiss until it w
as too late.
However, that doesn’t mean they are a well-oiled machine and they don’t still have a few loose cannons running around with their own agenda. Maybe the guy planned to take my girl and use her to gain an in with the Bratva leaders or he needed to make amends for something and she was his meal ticket? Or he was acting on orders but instructed to keep it below the radar? I don’t know, and I won’t rest until I find out.
“At least they don’t seem to know about Rowan,” Leo says.
Air expels from my mouth, and I rub the tight pain in my chest. “Thank God they haven’t discovered my son; otherwise, they would have gone for him instead.”
“Or targeted both of them at once, like they did with the Vegas attack,” Leo says, accepting the sandwich from the flight attendant when she materializes at our side.
I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. I couldn’t force a morsel down my throat right now. She offers the sandwich to Ciro who is seated in the seat behind Leo, and he accepts it with a grunt. I’m not enjoying having a new bodyguard, but I can’t fault Ciro’s professionalism. He’s damn good at his job, but he’s a surly bastard, and I miss Alessandro’s easygoing manner.
I refocus on Leo. “It’s not adding up, and I’d like to know how they got to Alessandro and why they only drugged him.” Most mafioso would have used a silencer and put a bullet in his skull.
“He’s going to be so pissed when he wakes,” Leo says in between mouthfuls of his sandwich.
I nod because I have no doubt Alessandro will see this as a personal failure, and he will beat himself up over it. But that is the least of his concerns. This shouldn’t have fucking happened on his watch, and I want answers as to how he let himself be drugged. Maybe I made a mistake assigning Alessandro to guard Sierra. Maybe he’s having as much trouble as I am staying focused around her. The thought does nothing to quell the murderous intent swirling in my gut.
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