by Bethany-Kris
He’d turned in to follow Christian’s car, because he figured he needed to know where the asshole was going after that whole meeting at the restaurant with John and Lucia, but the vehicle had vanished.
Apparently, into thin air.
In one of these warehouses, maybe?
But why?
Renzo eyed the row of warehouses, and let his mind run crazy. He’d been maybe twenty car lengths behind Christian’s vehicle, and he’d been careful not to seem like he was following the idiot. Lucia’s rental was a white Benz, and not the standard black car that most of the Marcellos and their associates seemed to prefer.
It was highly unlikely that the fucker driving Christian’s car had believed someone was following him. So, if that wasn’t what made them turn down this row of warehouses, then what was the fucking reason?
What was back here?
Renzo couldn’t stay around here thinking about it, and fucking the dog for too long. For one, because he didn’t want to be caught back here by one of Christian’s men if they did end up coming out of one of these warehouses. And for two, because he needed to get Lucia’s car back to her so that he could see her safely to the hotel where she would be protected.
Ugh.
What he wanted to do was scream.
Renzo had done a lot of jobs for The League—recon missions, a couple of jobs where explosives needed to be used; a robbery of a major bank in another country where someone’s money had been held without authorization. Quite a few hits on big names in this country, and around the world. He’d done several rescue or recovery missions, and learned he preferred those.
Point was, he’d done a lot.
Why was this the one he found the most frustrating?
Oh, no … Renzo knew.
Because what was he even doing?
He didn’t know.
He doubted anyone knew.
What a waste of fucking time.
Renzo had the greatest urge to shout out his frustrations, but he held it back. Yanking open the driver’s door to the white Benz, he leaned in and grabbed the phone sitting on the passenger seat. Turning it on, he swiped to a GPS app he used to track the vehicle Christian preferred to use when his men drove him around. The one he’d been in today.
He’d put a tracker under the car when Christian’s men hadn’t been paying attention one day at the man’s hotel. He had the chance, so he took it. Today, it was going to do him a bit of good.
Once he’d gotten the app up and running, Renzo waited for the damn dot to start blinking on the screen to tell him where in this maze of warehouses Christian went. It took ten seconds before the dot showed, and Renzo blinked at the screen.
He wasn’t in any warehouse, now.
He was back on the fucking road!
Renzo clenched his teeth—apparently, by the looks of the moving dot on the screen, he was heading toward his hotel again.
Jesus Christ.
Maybe the man had known someone was following him.
What game was Christian playing?
Renzo figured he should probably get the car back to Lucia, grab his own rental, and then decide what he was going to do from there. Whether he should continue to follow Christian, or consider this day a total loss to his job.
The phone started ringing in his hand, and Renzo resisted the urge to throw it against the ground. The name on the screen prevented him from smashing the phone to bits, but also sent his irritation spiking a little higher.
Funny how that worked.
Cree.
Yeah.
Just his fucking luck.
Today couldn’t get any worse.
Renzo was quick to jump into the Benz, and shut the door. He pulled back onto the road, and did a U-turn right there before heading back out onto the main drag as he answered his handler’s call. It’d been a while since Cree had called him, so Renzo didn’t think he would be able to get away with ignoring the man’s call today. He’d backed off a little after sending Corrado with his warning, and Renzo respected that.
Appreciated it, too.
He wasn’t about to test the man’s line.
“Ren here,” he said into the phone.
“I need a report, New York,” Cree said.
“On what?”
Cree let out a dry laugh. “The only thing you’re supposed to be doing, Ren. I don’t know if you’ve been so busy elsewhere that you forgot, but your job right now is to be following a certain mark, and reporting back when I call about it.”
“Actually, my reports are supposed to be once a week, thanks.”
“So, this week, it’s two.”
Renzo’s molars ached from how fiercely he was clenching his jaw. It wasn’t even Cree, but just this whole fucking day. “There’s nothing to report—nothing any different from the usual shit I’ve been reporting about Christian Savino. Pass the message along to my boss. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
For whatever reason …
Cree hummed under his breath. “Really, nothing?”
“No.”
Christian was still doing the same shit he had been doing since he arrived in New York. He went to the same places, and met up with the same people. He was doing business with the Marcellos, or rather, now he was forcing them in to doing business with him. That was all the same shit Renzo had already been reporting to Cree to tell M over and over again.
It wasn’t anything new.
“Same shit, different day,” Renzo said.
“You’re sure?”
“Cree, I said—”
“Your boss … M, I mean, has it on very good authority that Christian had a meeting today. He has good reason to suspect you would have been in attendance at that meeting, or that you might have information to pass onto him about it. Are you telling me there was no meeting?”
Renzo stilled in the driver’s seat, and his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Maybe it was something John had said in the restaurant that finally made shit click in his head, or it could have been Cree basically helping him out here.
He’d assumed Lucian Marcello knew about Christian, and the shit happening in the city because of the man’s presence. He thought that because he was sure things had been said in passing that suggested Lucian knew. Didn’t Lucia talk to her dad about it when she was with him during his chemo?
Renzo couldn’t be sure.
But John …
John had said not to tell Lucian. That he didn’t know—he didn’t want him worried when he should be focusing on his health.
The thing was, Renzo’s boss—the elusive M—had been watching this whole thing play out from afar through Renzo, in a way. He’d been getting regular updates; the kind of information that would be passed along to any member of the Marcello family when it came to Christian’s involvement in their business and life.
M didn’t have interest in hurting Christian. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that the man had meetings with other people; he just wanted the basics of his work, and behavior. Where he was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with. And then the Marcello thing …
Fuck.
It was starting to fall together.
Renzo was beginning to feel like an idiot.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Cree asked.
Renzo cleared his throat. “How much more time is on my contract, Cree?”
The man on the other end of the phone went quiet. “A few weeks, Ren.”
Right.
A few weeks.
There was absolutely no way that The League, or M, didn’t know Renzo had been around Lucia. It was their one line this whole time—the one thing they didn’t allow him to even test with them. They made sure of that.
And yet, here he had been … for quite a while, in New York, with her. And her family. Publicly, on more than one occasion.
It was funny.
Renzo had forgot about it. He’d stopped worrying about being with her when he wasn’t supposed to be because no one
had stepped in to tell him to stop.
He had a fucking chip in his arm, tracking him. He had a phone that kept track of him, too. It probably recorded his conversations on a regular basis, for all he knew. That would make sense, considering other things that didn’t matter right now.
The League knew where he was staying.
They probably knew where Lucia was staying.
And they didn’t know he was with her?
That he had been with her?
Renzo called bullshit.
Or … someone, like his boss, no longer cared about seeing the contract out with all of those previous rules attached because Renzo needed to be close to Lucia now. He needed to keep an eye on her … and his boss didn’t care, because his boss … M, was Lucia’s father.
Lucian won the bid on Renzo.
Lucian was M.
It was Lucian.
“So, no update for—”
“No update,” Renzo said.
Because he’d give it himself.
He hung up the phone before Cree could reply.
• • •
Renzo wasn’t sure if it was just circumstance, but Lucian’s final chemo treatment also fell on the same day that the Marcellos intended to meet with Christian to begin business negotiations. Or at least, Johnathan and Andino Marcello’s side of things for the business—their people, and men.
“There’s usually more people here with him,” Lucia said as she dropped her stuff in the family room just down the hall from her father’s room. “It’s quiet today. I thought more people would—”
“Attention might be elsewhere,” Renzo said.
Lucia’s gaze lifted to meet his. “Oh … the Christian thing?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
Renzo didn’t blame her.
He also didn’t want her to worry.
“Let’s go see your dad, huh?” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Lucia grinned as he drew her close enough to his side that he could press a kiss to the top of her head. Her arm snuck around his waist, and squeezed, too. “Today’s the last treatment, right?”
“Final round of chemo,” she whispered. “Yep.”
He could hear the fear in her voice.
But the relief, too.
“Everything is going to be great, Lucia,” he told her.
Renzo didn’t feel like it was a lie, either. Something told him that Lucian was going to be around for a long fucking time—probably riding his ass, and reminding him to stay the hell in line. He wasn’t sure if he was going to mind that, or not.
He’d deal with it, though.
After he handled this little business of Lucian being the person who won the bid on him, and took over his life.
You know, that was a big thing.
It needed to be dealt with.
Renzo had zero intention of telling Lucia what he learned, though. He knew that her relationship with her father was just beginning to get back to a good place. He didn’t think something like this would do any good for it.
And sure, he had his feelings about learning Lucian was M, but a part of him wondered if there was more to it than just the man wanting to control him. He wouldn’t know if he didn’t ask, right?
Lucia didn’t need to be involved.
Simple as that.
“Hey, Daddy.”
Lucian looked up to find Lucia standing in the doorway of the treatment room, and then his gaze quickly drifted to Renzo waiting behind her. He was already in the chair, with the IV pole beside him, and the line to his chest was connected—pumping in medicine. Or poison, depending on how someone looked at chemo.
It could go either way.
“And Renzo,” Lucian murmured, arching a brow. “What are you doing here?”
Renzo tipped his head toward Lucia. “Thought I would give her some company. And it’s close to lunch, so someone has to remind her to eat, right?”
Lucia gave him a look.
He stared back, daring her to deny it.
She just sighed.
Lucian chuckled, saying, “Food sounds good, actually. Something cold, I think. Ice cream.”
Lucia’s brow lifted high.
Renzo didn’t miss it.
“You want something to eat? You never want to eat when you’re—”
Lucian shrugged. “Gio found me a good strain of herb—it does wonderful things.”
Renzo laughed under his breath.
Yeah, weed could make someone with food poisoning want to eat if it was the right strain of bud. He knew that from firsthand experience.
“I can go get you something,” Lucia said. “I’m sure they have frozen yogurt downstairs in the cafeteria.”
“That’d be great, sweetheart,” Lucian said, tossing his magazine aside, and sneaking a quick look at Renzo, too. “Renzo can keep me company.”
That was when Renzo knew.
Lucian was aware that he knew the man was M. He was sly as fuck, too, making sure to get Lucia out of the room so that the two of them could talk it out, or hash it out. Whichever way it went, he was up for it.
Renzo didn’t think people gave Lucian enough credit. He was in his golden years, sure, and right now, he was just finishing up the battle of his life, all things considered. But the man was still dangerous—and smart, too. Maybe dangerously smart, if someone wanted to look at it that way.
His hands were still in the game.
He was still watching.
Retirement was a joke for men like Lucian.
Simple as that.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Lucia said, heading back out the door.
Renzo dropped a quick kiss to her mouth as she passed him by. “Take your time. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”
“It’s fine,” Lucian said. Once she was gone, the man in the chair getting his chemo waved at the door, saying, “Close it, hmm.”
Renzo did.
Then, he turned back to Lucian.
“What do you want me to call you—Lucian, or M?”
Lucian grinned a bit. “You know, Renzo, I was so careful. I thought you’d never figure it out—I didn’t want you to, either. Because I didn’t want you getting a complex about it. I didn’t want you to feel like … those rules and the control that The League put on you came from me because they didn’t. It was a by-product of your circumstances. How you came to them. They had to make sure they could scrub you from the world, and reinvent you. I didn’t get a choice.”
Renzo’s jaw ticked. “You’re saying you didn’t bid and win my contract just to keep me away from your daughter, then?”
“Never.”
He would have kept questioning Lucian on that. Called the man out on it, if he thought Lucian was lying to him. Something told Renzo that, in fact, Lucian was telling the truth. At this point, he didn’t have a reason to lie, did he?
“Then why did you bid on me when the time came?” Renzo asked.
Lucian looked up from his lap with a sigh. “Someone was going to do it, if not me. All that work I did … all the effort I put into getting you free again, and giving you the chance to become something bigger than you were … what would it be for? All for someone else to come along, grab your contract, and get you killed? How was I going to tell her that, Renzo? How was I going to tell her I didn’t do all that I could so that you could both have these moments again someday?”
He chewed on his inner cheek, unsure of what to say.
Again, Lucian didn’t have a reason to lie.
Not now.
Not after everything.
He gained nothing.
The man already had everything.
“You should be following someone today, shouldn’t you?” Lucian asked. “I still have a few weeks left to decide where you’re supposed to be working. I believe, Christian is your current target.”
“Yes, but why?”
Lucian laughed, and glanced away. “Years ago, my brothers and I decided
to … step back from the family business, you could say. We allowed our sons to take control, and step up. We knew that if our presence was too present, that it would affect how they handled their business, and how the rest of the made men in our family perceived them.”
“I get that,” Renzo murmured.
“But that doesn’t mean I am out of this game, Renzo. That doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to protect my family … my children. I promised my wife she would never bury a child, so whether they want me to keep an eye on their lives and business isn’t my concern as long as they don’t know I am doing it. And so, I do that from afar. You were simply one way I was doing that currently with John, but then Lucia got thrown into the mix, too.”
He tipped his head to the side. “But why him—Christian, I mean? What is it with him?”
“He comes from a familiar place,” Lucian replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It means what I said.”
“But—”
The door opened, and Lucia poked her head in the room. “Hey, Daddy, I just remembered the gelato place down the street. Do you want that instead?”
Lucian’s gaze drifted to Renzo, and then back to his daughter. “Yeah, sure. Take Renzo with you … he can carry it back for you.”
Renzo shot Lucian a look.
The man just smiled back.
Yeah.
Dangerously smart.
More than anyone gave Lucian credit for.
Renzo wouldn’t make the mistake of forgetting it.
SIXTEEN
“It’s fine,” her father murmured, kissing her forehead.
Lucia looked up at her dad, and frowned. “You’re sure you don’t want me to be here with you when you finish it out?”
Lucian patted her cheek with a tender palm. “I know why you want to be here … but this is something I want to do alone, Lucia. You can understand that, can’t you? This whole cancer thing has been more than sickness in my body—it’s been in my mind, too.”
Yeah, she bet.
Her father … always strong and never fallible had finally met his match. Sure, he was going to beat it, and yeah, they’d have to wait another six months before they would officially get the all clear, but she understood what he was trying to tell her.