Page 104 of Kneeling to Candy

He smiles, pulling me in for a bone-crushing bro hug. “Congratulations, brother. I’m happy for the two of you. You’ll be good for each other.”

Couldn’t agree more.

“Welcome to the ball-and-chain club.” Gauge chuckles, slapping me on the back. He and Atlas step off the curb, crossing the street to their bikes.

“That wasn’t awkward at all,” Ziggy says with amusement as he stands beside me. “Think they’ll keep this secret to themselves, or will they fill in their wives?”

“Fuck. They better keep it on the down low,” I mutter. The last thing I need is Candy finding out from Jo or Opal that I plan to pop the question—again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CÚ SIDHE

The devil is in the details. It’s not just a saying, at least not for my line of work.

While Duffy kicks back on the leather sofa in my Aspen office, watching American football on the large television on the wall and stuffing his face with chips, I painstakingly comb through every element of our upcoming auction.

Nothing in this job is simple. The details are like a multifaceted complex puzzle. If you’re not inspecting all potential avenues or planning for the worst-case scenario, your job will be shabby at best, and a hazard at worst.

Where Duffy sees himself as invincible, I’m realistic. Every auction is a gamble, especially when letting new clientele join the festivities. Duffy ignorantly trusts Piero Bianchi’s intentions where I’m skeptical. As I examine the file, the one my investigator put together on Bianchi, I raise an eyebrow. It seems Piero associates with an MC out of Fort Collins, a group of bikers who have a special skill set in security and recovery operations.

Is this relationship more to keep the peace between the mafia and the bikers? Or do they work together? And if so, what business do they do?

“Hmm.” My jaw ticks, not liking what I see on the pages before me. I flip through the folder my investigator put together on Piero and his MC friends, hoping to find answers to my questions and come up empty. With mafias and MCs, there should be some questionable details. Offshore bank accounts, criminal records, or lawsuits—anything. But there is nothing.

Cacamas.

Either Piero and this biker club have nothing to hide, or there’s a damn good computer hacker in their circle. My investigator is no slouch at this job, meaning the dirt may be buried too deep.

A sense of dread washes over me. This isn’t good. I don’t like going in blind to any scenario.

Irritated with Duffy for getting us into a possibly dodgy scenario, I rise from my desk chair, crossing the room before tossing Piero’s file in his lap.

“Whoa!” Shocked, Duffy catches the folder of useless documents before they hit the floor. “What’s all this?”

“Tell me again why you brought this Mafioso into our business circle.” I grab the remote, turning off the game to make sure I have Duffy’s full attention. “Do you know anything about him at all?”

As usual, Duffy sweats. He’s never comfortable around me when I’m angry, like he must sense I’m not far off from using my fists on him to ease some of my frustration.

Weakling. He should fear my wrath.

Glaring at him, I ease into the chair across from where he sits, crossing my ankle over one knee. “We’re two days away from a large payday—maybe the largest with the quality of the merchandise up for auction. And do you know why I can’t be excited about it? It’s stress, Duf. Unnecessary stress you caused when you made a piss poor business decision without consulting me first.”

Duffy sputters, nervously. “Cú Sidhe?—”

Wanting him to zip it, I raise my palm. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want answers. What do you know of Piero? Why does he associate himself with bikers?”

“Bikers?” He flips through the file, his spongy-looking lips puckered as he looks for the answers. “Why would the mafia be involved with bikers? Aren’t they separate entities, fighting over turf like the Jets and the Sharks in that musical?”

“I don’t know,” I grit through my teeth, ready to snap. “That’s why I’m asking you, you oaf.”

Duffy gnaws on his bottom lip, deep in thought. “Maybe he uses the biker gang to handle some of his business dealings? Like he has them run the flesh trafficking end of his operation? Keeps his hands clean like he wants to be presented to the rest of the world.”

“Unlikely.” I roll my eyes. “These bikers specialize in search and rescue.”

“You think these are the mercenaries busting all the sex rings?”

“Possibly. Their website doesn’t yield much on the recovery missions they do. Only that their success rate is the highest in the country. You need to set an appointment to learn if your case is one they’ll take.”

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