Men of Honor: Cosa Nostra book 1

by Jasmine Denton

Trey leaned against a costume rack and gave her a good look. Letting out a slow whistle, he said, “Damn, girl.”

  Her gaze met his in the mirror. She smiled. “Look what the cat drug in.”

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart,” he said, still gazing charmingly at her.

  “Most people who stare at me that long leave a tip,” she said, returning her attention to her make-up.

  He chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t have to come down here like just another customer if you’d return my calls once in awhile.”

  Purposefully ignoring this statement, she stood and walked toward him. “Tell me, what brings the famous DeLuca prince to my dressing room?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “I miss you.”

  “Miss me?” She giggled. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Touché.”

  “I want you to go on a date with me,” he said.

  “Nope,” she said simply, and didn’t offer up an explanation as to why.

  “Come on,” he said, wanting so badly to reach out and touch her. “Why not?”

  “Because technically, you’re my boss,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “And mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea.”

  “Well, technically, my dad is your boss,” he said. “And didn’t you hear? Pleasure goes with everything.”

  This made her smile and she looked like she might change her mind. Before she could though, another girl poked her head in the door. “Mandi, you’re up,” she said. “But don’t worry, I’ll gladly entertain your company.”

  Mandi laughed and turned back to Trey. “You staying for the show?”

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got some errands to run. You look stunning, by the way.” He pulled a crisp 100 dollar bill from his pocket and took his time sliding it into the waistband of her satin bikini cut underwear, enjoying the feel of his knuckles scraping across her skin. She kept her eyes on his the entire time, and he could see them go hazy with lust and temptation.

  He brought his lips to her ear, whispering, “Don’t work too hard, sweetheart.”

  Later that night, Trey walked down the street in front of his house to where his car was parked. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and stopped to unlock the door. On the pavement behind him, a shadow stretched out. He heard footsteps rapidly approach. Turning slowly, he saw a man dressed in a dark colored hoodie, heading straight toward him.

  “What do you want, man?” he called out.

  With his eyes set in determination, the unknown man quickly closed the space between them and clocked Trey with a blow to the face. The punch surprised him, and while he was stunned, the man jabbed a knife straight into Trey’s gut. Stunned again, the unknown assailant began to punch and kick him wildly. Though struck with pain, Trey moved quickly. With the knife still stabbed into his flesh, Trey pulled out his gun and fired. The assailant fell to his knees, bleeding from the chest. Trey checked out the damage to his side, and seeing the ripped shirt and pouring blood, fired another shot straight into the man’s head.

  The body collapsed onto the pavement and Trey looked around to make sure nobody saw him. Quickly, he unlocked his car, popped the trunk open and then hid the body inside. After he had the body loaded in his trunk, he started to feel woozy from the blood loss. He knew he’d need medical attention soon, but was reluctant to see the doctor he kept on hand. As he tried to think of someone he could trust, only one name came to mind.

  Chapter Seven

  When Mandi opened the door to her apartment, she found Trey outside. This time he wasn’t all charm and witty come-ons. He stood with his shoulders slumped over and one arm hugging the left side of his abdomen. His white button-down was stained with blood and torn, revealing a six-pack spotted with bruises in varying shades of yellowing. There was only a mark or two on his face though, and he looked up at her weakly, with a sheepish half-grin. “So…I could use a favor.”

  Surprised to see him so hurt, she ushered him into her apartment and shut the door, locking it behind them. “What happened to you?”

  He dropped onto the couch and let out a huge sigh of relaxation. He looked exhausted, with sweat glistening all over his body. “I’m pretty sure…” With quite a bit of effort, he pushed himself up and began to take off his shirt. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

  “Kill you?” she repeated, stunned. Then she realized a man like Trey must have a ton of enemies and the idea wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

  He leaned back to examine what looked like a knife wound on his left side. The gnash was deep and bloody and nearly staining her couch. Wadding his shirt up into a ball, he pressed it against the wound and looked up at her with dizzied eyes. “Normally, I’d just call up the doc, but I want to keep this quiet.”

  “Can’t let anyone know you were almost sliced and diced?”

  He grinned. “Pretty much.”

  “I’m no doctor.” Giving him a good, long look—seeing the quickly staining white shirt—she decided she’d have to do the best she could. “Let me see if I can scrounge up some first aid.”

  Luckily for Trey, she had some gauze and rubbing alcohol under the bathroom sink. It took some digging, but she managed to find a roll of medical tape buried in the back of her cabinet. Dumping the items into a basket along with a few clean cloths, she went to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and then brought all of it into the living room. She sat down on the coffee table across from him, placing the make-shift first aid kit next to her and leaned in to check out the knife-wound.

  “I really hope you don’t need stitches,” she said. “Because I am so not sticking any needles in you.”

  “Just do what you can,” he said. “I’m not picky. And I’m pretty sure it’s not fatal.”

  “Oh, pretty sure, huh?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

  Shaking her head at him, she dipped one of the clothes into the warm water and then began to clean the area around the wound. It took a minute, but she had the blood clean soon. She could feel his gaze on her the entire time. There was a sizzle in the air, and she didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt flushed.

  “Sorry I don’t have anything for the pain,” she said.

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small silver flask. “I do,” he said as he twisted it open. He took a couple pills out of a bottle and popped them in his mouth, chasing it with a swig from the flask.

  “At least you’re prepared,” she said.

  “These are leftover from the shooting.”

  “Shooting?” She used a couple pieces of gauze to slow the bleeding down and then taped a fresh bandage over the whole thing.

  “Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” he asked, “I got shot before our date.”

  “No, you failed to mention that,” she said with a chuckle. She found it hard to believe that someone could get shot, patched up and still manage to make it to their father’s welcome home party. Just how tough was this guy?

  His darkened, dangerous eyes locked on her the entire time she was doctoring him up. She’d known he was gorgeous before, anybody could see that. But she hadn’t realized his muscles were so rock hard, or that his dark hair would glint in the dull light of her apartment. Each time he caught her looking up into those gorgeous, black-as-night eyes, he would give her a self-satisfied smirk.

  After about the third time, she felt flustered and awkward and wanted to keep herself distracted from his sizzling hot body. “Why’d you come here?”

  “Isn’t obvious?” His gaze lingered on hers in a smoldering way that made her want to squirm.

  Forcing herself to look away from him, she began to gather up the soiled gauze to avoid his constant stare.

  “I like you, Mandi,” he said. “How many flowers does a guy have to send to get that message across?”

  “I got the message.” She motioned to the various vases and arrangements of flowers he’d sent over the last we
ek. One a day. “And I think I’m pretty good on flowers now.”

  “I see you kept them,” he said, grinning at her. “You must like me too.”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “Then why do I have to get stabbed to get your attention?” he teased. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”

  “Because I can read people too, DeLuca,” she said, coming back in from the kitchen. “And you have trouble written all over you.”

  “I think you like trouble.”

  “And I think that booze has gone straight to your head.”

  He gave her a sexy grin as she reentered the room. He stood, meeting her half-way.

  Recognizing the signs of lust on his face, she shook her head at him. “Don’t even think about it, Trey.”

  Ignoring her, he gently took her face in his hands, pushing his fingertips gently into her hair. Though she was still a little withdrawn around him, she wasn’t immune. When Trey turned on the charm, no woman could resist. “We can’t do this.” Instead of coming out firm and serious, her voice was a soft, feeble whisper.

  He leaned closer, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to hers. “Why not?” He covered her mouth with his own without giving her a chance to respond. He stirred up the usual lust and heat, but there was something else brewing inside her too. Something she was trying hard to fight, and failing miserably. Finally, she broke her lips away from his but couldn’t bring herself to pull away from him.

  He moved to her neck, trailing tiny, hot kisses along the curve.

  Breathing heavily, Mandi tried to hold on to her self-control. “Seriously, Trey. You were just stabbed. I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Come on. Don’t you want to see how tough I am?”

  Tempted, she rolled her eyes in a mix of frustration and pleasure. He slid his hand up the back of her shirt, his lips still working her neck. She couldn’t resist him any longer. With her mind arguing against every action, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back enough so she could press her lips against his. It was barely noticeable, but she could’ve sworn she saw him smile as his lips parted to meet hers. She gave up on fighting what she was feeling and turned herself over to the pleasure.

  Looping her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans, she pulled him across the living room and into her bedroom, her lips dancing with his the entire time, until they fell back onto the bed together. His passionate, searching kisses made her body shiver as he skimmed his hands up her arms until his fingers held her wrists. He took her mouth, captivating it, losing himself in the taste of her, scraping his teeth across her bottom lip in desperate need. Consumed in the pleasured sounds she made while her body throbbed under his touch. He pulled back, unbuttoning and sliding out of his jeans. His eyes locked on her the entire time, as if savoring the image of her. Her heart pulsed wildly when he pulled off what was left of her clothes and pressed his body into hers, watching as her eyes widened and then smoldered. Finally bringing their mouths in contact again, they fell in rhythm with each other.

  Her fingernails dug into his back, his shoulders, his hair, grating any self control he might’ve had left. Their kisses grew more needy and desperate. The drafty air in the bedroom turned hot. Her breathing quickened as she let out a low moan, arching her body against his and then hooking her legs around his waist. Each slow, deliberate thrust brought another throaty sound of bliss from her, until he was sure he’d lose himself completely. Tensions built and built, until her body rocked and shuddered beneath his. Until the soft moans turned to one sexy scream. Only when she collapsed underneath him, breathless and dizzied, did he bury his face in her chest and let himself go.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as they lay in bed, sweaty, exhausted, their limbs entangled with each other. Their hormones had died down and the lust had faded for now, but just being this close to her was getting him worked up again. As if sensing this, Mandi sat up in bed and pulled the sheet around her naked body. Trey stayed stretched out, breathing slowly and relaxed.

  Clutching the cover to her chest, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Okay,” she said, clinging to her resolve while she still had it. “You should go now.”

  “Now?” he asked, still winded. He pushed himself up, wrapping one arm around her and bringing his lips to her bare shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Positive.” Her resolve was fading again as ripples of tingling pleasure coursed through her body every time his mouth brushed against her skin. As his soft, plump lips worked their way down her spine, she shuddered in a breath. “I mean it.”

  “Okay, I’ll go,” he said, but he made no effort to get out of bed. He continued to kiss her back while moving one hand to her leg, curving it around to her inner thigh. Suddenly, he stopped. His voice took on a tone of concern when he asked, “What’s this?”

  “What?” She craned her neck to look, but she didn’t see anything.

  “This bruise.” He gently skimmed his fingertips across an area on her lower back, bringing her a shiver of pleasure and a sting of pain at the same time. His voice was husky, protective. “Who did this to you?”

  “Nobody,” she said on reflex, so quickly that she knew it couldn’t be believed. Wiggling out of his arms, she stood, bringing the sheet with her. She doubled it around her body and held it closed in the front.

  “Mandi,” he said, his tone sounding demanding. “I asked you who.”

  “Can we not do this?” she asked, turning to him. “This…protective thing. I’d really rather go without it.”

  He climbed out of bed, not bothering to cover himself. “Who?” he repeated, more serious this time.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said. “My boss and I had a little disagreement, that’s all. Usually he’s more careful. Bruises bring down the market value, you know. But what can I do? He’s my boss.”

  “Your boss?” he repeated, sounding infuriated. “Fuck your boss. I own your boss.”

  “That’s attractive,” she shot back.

  “Why would he do this to you?”

  “Because he’s an asshole. And he happens to be an asshole that I owe money to,” she explained. “Any time I try to complain about all the interest he’s tacking on, he likes to remind me who’s in charge.”

  Trey was quiet as he listened to her, watching her. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Don’t say anything to him.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “I’m asking you,” she said, clarifying. “If he finds out about this…you and me thing…he’ll think I’m trying to go over his head and he won’t like it. It’ll just make things worse.”

  “Not if he’s fired,” Trey said.

  “Then he’ll be a pissed off, out-of-work guy I owe money too,” she said. “And it won’t be much better.”

  He sighed. “You really want to keep working for a guy like that?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “But if I can finish paying what I owe Max, I can finally be done. Free. That’s what I want.”

  “How much do you owe him?” he asked. “I’ll take care of it. You can be done now.”

  “No, no, no,” she said. “I pay my own debts.”

  He studied her a minute. “You’re so damn stubborn,” he said. “Did I ever tell you that?”

  “I like to handle things myself. And I will handle it.”

  He shrugged. “Fine, I’ll stay out of it.”

  “Good,” she said.

  He hesitated. “I still have to leave, don’t I?”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  “You’re cold,” he teased as he turned to gather his clothes. “Like, ice around the heart cold.”

  “I had another nightmare last night.” Bela and Vincent sat on a thick cotton blanket on the rooftop of the abandon building. He sat behind her, his muscular arms keeping her warm from the cool night air.

  “About your mom?” he asked, tilting his head to look down at her.


  She nodded. “You’d think after nine years, I would be over it by now.”

  “You witnessed her murder,” he said softly. “I don’t think you can get over something so horrible.”

  “Tell that to the rest of my family,” she said. “They act like she never existed. Dad even took down all of her pictures when she died, and I haven’t seen them since.”

  Vincent was quiet as he listened to her. “And her murder’s still unsolved?”

  “The police never caught the guy, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “But I heard Dad took care of it.”

  “Took care of it?”

  “You know,” Bela said. “Good old street revenge. I don’t think he knows how to do anything else.”

  “I see,” he said.

  There was something she’d been dying to ask him for months. Now seemed the best time. “Did your family really put the hit out on her?”

  “If they did, do you think I’d be able to look you in the eye?” he asked quietly. “I wouldn’t. I mean, I was only thirteen when it happened, so it’s not as if I was in the loop, but you know how it is. Something that big happens and you hear whispers, rumors. But I never heard anything about your mom.”

  That was true. When her father had taken out the hit-man, she’d heard rumors about it. It stood to reason that if the Marcanos really had hurt her mother, they would’ve bragged about it. “Then what happened to her?” she wondered out loud.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face him. “We’ve barely seen each other in the past few weeks. I’m sure you don’t want to spend the time we do get talking about such depressing things.”

  “You can talk to me about anything,” he said.

  “Then what I really want to know,” she began, “Is what it felt like when you were out.”

  “Out?”

  “Of the mob,” she said. “When you left your family and skipped town. What was it like?”

  “Honestly?” he asked. “It was dangerous. My dad had people looking for me. But other than that…it was incredible. Going to sleep at night, knowing that I was in control. That I was free.”