I cracked my neck from side to side. I wasn’t in the mood for a fucking interrogation.
Sensing the tension in the room, Dad looked to Ace. “If the Garcias are kidnapping women and bringing them up from Mexico, is it possible to access their missing persons reports? Maybe we could learn something from them.”
Ace’s eyes lit up. “It’ll take me a little time to cover my tracks once I get into the system so nothing’s traceable. But yeah, I can get in.”
I’d taken a lot of punches over the years. But in that moment, a series of thoughts slammed into me and delivered one of the sharpest blows I’d ever experienced. Straight to the sternum, knocking the breath clean out of me.
Cat’s sudden appearance in Brooklyn, seemingly out of nowhere…
Her Mexican heritage…
Her refusing to discuss what had brought her to the city…
The fact that she didn’t seem to have any family within a hundred-mile radius…
Something truly disturbing unwillingly slithered into my subconscious and nested there.
What if Cat wasn’t even supposed to be in Brooklyn? What if she’d been taken? Stolen? What if…she was one of the trafficked?
But that didn’t totally add up. She’d had her own apartment, two jobs, and her own car, if you could call that thing a car. Trafficked women being held against their will to be sold off weren’t afforded that much freedom.
Maybe she was taken and escaped her captors.
Maybe that was why she tended to give off paranoid vibes sometimes. She was always hyper alert, acting like she was preparing for an attack around every corner. Maybe she was hiding from someone. That theory still didn’t completely hold water, but something had felt off about Cat ever since the night she’d walked into my gym. Something specific had led her here, and I was damn well going to find out what it was.
And if she had been taken, if someone was actually chasing her—
They had come to the wrong damn city.
Rome caught my reaction from the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing. He knew well enough to not draw attention in front of everyone else. There were just some conversations we had to have between each other before we took them to the rest of the family. Nico and Cris had a similar bond, same with Ace and our younger sister Gia.
“When is your fight with the champion?” Cris asked me.
“Next Saturday.” Ten days.
“Extra security that night might be a good idea,” Ace suggested. “If he’s got backers with heavy purses on the line, they might not appreciate it if you defeat their golden goose.”
Rome shifted on the couch. “I’ve got his back.”
Dad rapped his knuckles on the desk. “No, Ace is right. I want more eyes down there. The rest of you go with them. Keep a low profile.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Connelly said he’ll report in if he hears anything from his informants on the street,” Dad added, rising to his feet. “I want updates if anything else changes.”
Nico buttoned his suit jacket and headed for the door. “I’d hang around, but I’ve got a doctor’s appointment to get to, boys. Try not to miss me too much.”
“Is it your appointment with the lady doctor or Lexi’s?” I quipped.
Everyone snickered.
As long as our oldest brother wore that man bun, he had to deal with the pretty boy jokes.
“Yeah, whose turn is it to get the pap smear today?” Ace tacked on.
Nico winked at us just before opening the door to the den. “I’ve got a pregnant wife at home who’s constantly horny right now. Last time we were in that exam room, she jumped my bones the second the doc left. So, make all your little jokes while I go fuck my wife.”
We were all grinning like jackasses as he left the room, whistling some tune that sounded suspiciously like a lullaby. I wasn’t the type to get all sentimental and shit, but even I had to admit it was nice seeing our former commitment-phobic brother all happy and settled down.
I couldn’t help but be a little jealous.
Not about the whole marriage and settling down thing. I’d lose my goddamn mind if I found out I was about to become a father. I just wouldn’t mind having a woman to go home to and fuck whenever I wanted. To have someone there waiting for me. Someone who was actually happy to see me.
Someone who…understood.
Rome’s motorcycle keys jingled in his hands as we left Mom and Dad’s brownstone. “Want to go get a drink at O’Malley’s?”
O’Malley’s Irish Pub and Grill was our go-to bar in the city. We’d been frequenting Nico’s distillery ever since it opened, but O’Malley’s went back a long way with all of us.
“Sounds good.”
Like me, Rome had his demons too. Different ones, but similar enough to understand the severity of their impact on your life and sanity. To understand the all-consuming power they could wield over you.
Although, I was starting to think that a woman could possess that same kind of power. In fact, the right woman could be even worse.
Because the right woman could turn into an obsession.
An addiction.
And I knew all too well just how fucking deadly those could be.
A week after I danced topless for Luka at Rumors, I was about to teach my first pole class at The Ring. I was basically on a trial period as an instructor. Whether or not Luka kept me on the regular schedule would depend on how many people signed up for each class. According to Deja, I was supposed to have ten for this first beginners class, which I thought was pretty good.
And I was about to be late for it.
Thanks to a crowded subway platform and some unexpected construction, I had to literally run the three blocks from the station to The Ring. Two days a week I would venture into Lower Manhattan to use the internet. An anonymous computer in a busy internet café was the best option I had for checking my email if I didn’t want to be traced. And email was the only form of communication I had with my family back in Mexico.
After all, it was much harder to track someone through a public computer.
Especially in a city like New York, where dozens of people had probably used the same machine as me on the very same day. Sure, I was using a random email address, under a false name, but I could never be too careful. The most obscure, seemingly insignificant, information could lead him to me. But I had no choice if I wanted to stay in contact with my family to ensure they were still okay.
My younger brother Eduardo’s last message said he and our parents were safe for the time being. I’d left him in charge of watching over them, while I set out to search for Luciana. Má and Papí hadn’t exactly taken it well whenever their baby was stolen from under their noses. Every day, I worried how much the stress was deteriorating their health. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any new updates to give Eduardo about my progress in locating our sister. But as long as I remained invisible, there was still hope that I’d find her.
It was harder to stay off the grid than one might think.
No credit cards. No employment records. No apartment leases. No bank accounts. No phone, internet, utility, or insurance bills, at least not under your real name. No social media accounts. Not that I needed those. What friends did I have to post pictures with? I couldn’t risk being tagged in their pictures either. It wasn’t like I had any room for fun in my life anyway.
One tiny slip-up.
That’s all it would take for him to find me.
Every time the train dropped me off in the Bensonhurst neighborhood of Brooklyn, I breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, it felt safter on this side of the river than the other. At first, I thought it was just because Brooklyn was becoming more familiar to me. But I was starting to wonder if it might have anything to do with a certain landlord-turned-potential employer.
Even after hearing everything Deja said about Luka’s sordid family history with organized crime, I wasn’t wary of him. In fact, it only amplified my curiosity about him.
After all, I had my own connections with crime syndicates that he didn’t need to know about.
I had skeletons in my closet.
And it’s a good thing skeletons can’t talk.
Then there was everything else Deja had revealed about Luka.
Ex-Army Ranger. Received the Medal of Honor, in addition to multiple commendations. Former heavyweight champion on the amateur boxing circuit, and had been well on his way to the professional ring before he’d enlisted. Which confirmed all of my suspicions.
Protector. Guardian. Warrior.
The smacking of boxing gloves mingled with the everyday sounds of clanking metal and hard-hitting rock music as I made my way through the bustling gym toward the back door that led to my upstairs apartment. A small crowd stood around the ring in the center of the room, watching two men exchange punches. It was obviously a friendly match, judging by the smirk on the face of the man I didn’t recognize.
There was no mistaking who the other one was.
Luka’s full sleeve and robust form were hard to miss. He and his sparring partner were both shirtless, wearing only lightweight gym shorts and padded gloves. Luka’s back muscles rippled as he shuffled around the ring, throwing jabs at the other man. His olive skin glistened with a thick sheen of sweat. The longer side of his dark brown hair was slicked back. His immeasurable strength was wrapped around tightly coiled energy, all balanced on the balls of his feet.
And dios, he was beautiful.
The other man was no slouch either. In fact, he reminded me of a Viking, in both size and coloring. Paler skin than Luka’s and reddish, auburn hair that had a slight curl to it. Maybe an inch shorter than Luka, though the two men were similar in muscle tone. Judging by their similarities, they probably gave each other a good run for their money every time they faced off in the ring.
“Hey.” Deja sidled up next to me to watch the blatant display of masculinity. “Where have you been all morning?”
I fidgeted with the frayed strap of my purse, remembering to choose my words carefully. “Just running some errands. Who’s that in there with Luka?”
Sharice appeared on my other side, towel around her neck, water bottle in hand. “That there is Detective Bryce Connelly, one of New York’s finest. Both literally and figuratively.”
My heart sank.
I didn’t do cops. In my experience, they couldn’t be trusted. Always on the take. Always operating under ulterior motives. Pushing agendas, instead of protecting the people.
Sharice noted my silent skepticism. “Don’t worry, B. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Where I come from, there aren’t very many good ones.” In fact, I couldn’t think of a single officer I knew of with a sparkling reputation.
Sharice nodded. “Yeah, I get that. But Connelly actually has a moral code. He respects the badge. Luka wouldn’t be so tight with him if he didn’t.”
Luka was friends with a cop? It made sense, considering what I’d learned about the man.
Honorable.
Which was just further confirmation that I needed to stay away from Luka.
My life was too sullied to tangle with his more respectable one. He still had principles, whereas mine had become…compromised. I would tarnish everything he’d made of himself, everything he’d worked for. People respected him. They pitied me. The poor, lost little stripper who couldn’t do anything more meaningful with her life than take off her clothes for money.
I couldn’t even tell them they were wrong.
Couldn’t defend my dignity.
Too much was at stake for me to risk revealing the truth.
“I gotta go change for class,” I told Deja and Sharice. “Catch yooz guys later.”
Deja laughed, while Sharice slapped me on the butt. “Your New York talk is getting better, B. Proud of you.”
That drew a giggle from me.
As I passed the ring on the outskirts of the crowd, I felt Luka’s eyes burning into me like laser beams. Sure enough, his gaze was locked squarely on me when I reluctantly glanced up.
Que rico. Delicious.
Those bulging, sinewy muscles. Those rigid abs. The agility with which he moved. That chunky silver crucifix the only decoration on his sculpted body. Why I loved that piece of jewelry on him so damn much, I couldn’t explain. I wanted to lick him from head to toe and take that monster cock of his for the roughest ride of my life.
I wanted it to hurt.
Wanted it to burn.
I wanted to feel the residual pain between my legs every time I swung around the pole the next day.
Story of my life.
Wanting things I had absolutely no hope of getting.
“Who is that?” Bryce asked as we circled each other in the ring.
His gaze followed the direction of my own, so I knew exactly who he was talking about. I’d gotten a prickly sensation along my spine the moment she’d stepped inside the building, and my eyes had unconsciously sought her out. I couldn’t control it. She was becoming too great of a distraction.
“Name’s Cat,” I murmured, oddly uncomfortable sharing any information about her with another man, even if Bryce was a friend. “She’s teaching some new classes.”
I bobbed and weaved when he went in for a bolo punch. “What kind of classes?”
I bristled at the interest in his voice. “Does it matter?”
He snorted. The cop in him didn’t miss a beat. “If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have a problem telling me.”
When he came at me again, I caught him with a check hook on the attack. We were both pulling our punches, so I knew when my glove clipped him on the chin, I didn’t do any damage.
“They’re, uh…”
His gaze sharpened on me when I hesitated.
“Pole dancing classes.”
“Really…” His neck craned in Cat’s direction until she disappeared through the door to the upstairs apartment.
When I popped him on the jaw this time, I didn’t pull my punch.
The big bastard just laughed.
Like me, his jaw was made of steel. Being a former college hockey player at Syracuse, coupled with years on the force doing gritty police work, taught a man how to take a hit. It was why we made each other’s best sparring partner.
“And she’s staying in the apartment upstairs?” he pushed.
Of course, he would have noticed that, but I didn’t feel like answering a bunch of prying questions about Cat. At least Rome knew when to let certain shit go until I came to him, ready to talk about it.
“She needed a place to stay,” I answered curtly. “Someone broke into hers.”
Bryce straightened, pausing for a moment. “She file a report?”
I threw out a jab, getting him back into his stance. “Didn’t need to. They didn’t take anything.”
“And I’m guessing you just happened to be there?”
My silence was enough of an answer.
“She single?”
I blocked his cross hook, answering with a swift uppercut. He quickly backpedaled, fists protecting his face, when I lunged toward him.
“Off limits,” I growled.
He smirked. “It’s like that, huh?”
“I’m not telling you what the fuck it’s like.”
He belted out a laugh. “Luka getting touchy about a woman? Holy shit, please make sure I’m present whenever you tell your brothers.”
I was ready to close the book on the subject of Cat altogether, but the jackass wouldn’t stop.
“The pole dancing… Is that her job or a hobby?”
I decided to just get it over with. He was going to find out eventually. “She works at Rumors.”
His expression cleared, fists slightly lowering. “No shit? She’s that girl? From Cris’s bachelor party?”
I grunted in response.
“Hot damn, Luka. Look at you. First crushes are so sweet.”
He earned a light blow to the ribs for that comment. He oomphed, stepping back to catch
his breath, no doubt flipping me off inside his glove.
“You would know about crushes better than anyone, Connelly.”
“Kiss my ass,” he wheezed.
Did he really think no one knew about his little crush on prosecuting attorney Carmen LaMacchia? The same attorney who would be going up against Santi Gabbiano in trial next month? Bryce had been carrying that torch for years.
“Fair enough,” he conceded, chuckling. “I’ll back off.”
Sighing, I decided to give him something. “I’m only giving her a place to stay until she can save up enough to get into a better apartment than the one she was in. She hasn’t been in the city very long. I don’t know all that much about her. But there’s something…”
I ducked when he advanced with a quick hook that grazed my ear.
“Something what?”
“Off with her. I don’t know what is, but it feels like she’s hiding something.”
His eyes narrowed in that assessing cop way.
“I’m not saying it’s anything illegal. Just a gut feeling. She’s very guarded when it comes to her personal life.”
Bryce panted through his growing fatigue. “Let me know if you want me to look into it.”
I nodded. “You getting anything from any of your CIs?” Confidential informants.
“Just what we already know. That the location of the auctions is highly privileged information. A text is sent to a limited number of people within twenty-four hours of the sale, so word doesn’t get out.”
“Who sends out the text? Esposito?”
He shook his head. “Not sure. The only thing my CI could tell me was that he’s heard rumors of a Hispanic male calling the shots. Goes by the nickname El Escorpion.”
The name didn’t ring any bells with me. “Could it be Alonso Garcia? He’s the cartel Boss. It would make sense if he were in charge.”
“Possibly. But Alonso’s on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. If it were him, you’d think the name would have popped up somewhere in the system before, and I’ve never heard it.”
“I’ll ask my contacts at the next fight if any of them have heard it before.”
Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4) Page 10