Page 27 of Covert Desires

But now that I know who he is, there is one thing I know for certain—I can’t have him around here; he’s a liability.

With a sigh, I turn on my mobile. There’s probably been cellphone reception for a while now. But I’ve been putting off checking.

The stormy season is pretty much over, and life is slowly returning to the island. Pretty soon, guests will start arriving for the festive period.

I’ve procrastinated long enough, delaying the inevitable. But I need to know what’s happening out there in the real world.

I want to know and at the same time—I don’t; I’m scared of the answer. An answer means I have todosomething.

One bar, then two…the signal triangle lights up in the right corner of my phone.

With a steady hand, I type the familiar number into the phone that doesn’t have a single contact saved. I know the digits off by heart.

It rings only once before the voice of the only person I trust in the world answers.

“Kiah,” she breathes, no discernable emotion in her voice.

“Hey J. How are things?”

“Is this a social call?” the voice on the other line asks, to the point as always. In the two decades I’ve known J., she’s never been known to beat around the bush.

“I need information.” I know my secrets are safe with her. We spent four years together in the Special Forces, and J. proved herself through and through. I’d take a bullet for that woman (and I have before).

“Anything.”

“What’s going on with the Riccis? I’ve been hearing rumors…” I try to keep my voice steady, but it’s hard to sound casual when asking such a serious question.

“It’s no secret. The Don is dead.”

My heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat. It’s worse than I thought.

“Oh?” I try to sound nonplussed, even though J. definitely knows me better than that. But she doesn’t challenge me.

“Fucker had it coming,” J. says simply.

“You can say that again. I assume it wasn’t natural causes?”

“It hardly ever is. Nope, he got murdered.”

“Any idea who did it?”

“No, the family is tightlipped about that part. But word on the street is that it was an inside job.”

“And now? Who’s taking over?”

“That’s the strange thing, the new Don is missing. It’s been weeks, and nobody knows where Domenico is.”

Domenico?

Fuck.The math slowly adds up in my head.

I had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to know.

Nico could’ve been anyone in the Ricci lineage, a distant relative, maybe a cousin, but why did he have to be the heir to the throne?

This is bad.

This is really fucking bad.

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