Page 18 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“It’s important,” Christian clips. “And honestly? You’re one of the few people I can trust until I know more.” He’s quiet for a split second. “My gut is telling me the problem is being caused by one of our own.”

His words give me pause. When his father was still in charge, the Imperiosi was run like a well-oiled machine. It was unheard of to hear about someone going rogue and going against the family. And while Christian’s words are alarming, they definitely aren’t surprising. I don’t doubt that members are testing him simply because he’s younger and still getting adjusted to his new role as Capo, but he was born for this. As much as I don’t want to step foot in New York, I know I have to put my own personal shit aside for this.

“How soon do you need me there?” I ask on a sigh. It’s already late here.

“I’ll send a jet for you. Once you land, a car will be waiting to bring you to me,” he rattles off. “It’ll be like old times before you decided to ditch me and run off to Philly.”

I grind my teeth as memories try to swirl to the forefront of my mind. “You know I had my reasons, Christian,” I say, my voice tight.

“I know. At least this job will give you a distraction with your birthday coming up and all. I know how you feel about celebrating it.”

I clench my jaw so tight that it aches, a flurry of fragmented memories cracking open and clawing at the edges of my mind.

The gunshots.

The screams.

The blood.

So much fucking blood. Warm and sticky on my hands. I can still feel it…

“Saint?” Christian calls out, his voice like an inflatable raft saving me from the violent waves of memories threatening to drown me.

“Yep.” I blow out a long breath as I focus on trying to calm my racing heart.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I drag a hand through my dark hair, wishing I could say no, but saying no to the Capo isn’t an option. He isn’t making the request as my cousin; he’s making the request as my boss. At the end of the day, I still have a job to do. “Yeah,” I murmur.

“Good,” he says and hangs up.

There are no goodbyes as Christian and I disconnect. Just the lingering pit in my stomach.

Clenching my jaw, I start the car, letting the purr of the engine soothe some of the tension within me. Speeding from the villa, I hit up the clean-up crew as I take the turns with a controlled ease, using the rumble of the car to ease the tightness building in the back of my neck.

I drive the long distance back to the apartment I keep in Italy. I sit in complete silence, wanting to be alone with my thoughts before I return to the one place I prefer to avoid.

Can’t run forever, I think to myself with more than a trace of bitterness, my hand tightening on the steering wheel. Even though I know that thought to be true, it still doesn’t stop me from wanting it not to be.

Before I get to my place, I stop off to collect my two dogs from the dogsitter.

The moment I ring the doorbell, I hear the familiar scratching of paws against the floor. My heart lifts. I’ve only been gone a few days, but it feels like forever.

The door swings open, and in a flash of fur and excitement, my two Huskies practically tackle me to the ground. Their black and white coats blur together as they jump up, tails wagging wildly and paws propped up against me. I drop to my knees, laughing and letting them smother me in that special way of theirs.

“Hey, I missed you too,” I murmur, rubbing behind their ears. They lean into my touch, their icy blue eyes shining and their velvety noses nudging against me. And the weight in my chest eases a little.

When I arrive at my apartment, I throw together a bag with some clothes, my laptop, and a spare gun. As I pack, my mind runs through every possible scenario I might face when I get to New York.

Has Christian found a traitor among us? Is someone doing shady deals that jeopardize our operations? Do we have a rat?

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” I murmur out loud. I’m sure it’s something serious, or Christian wouldn’t be calling me all the way to New York. But it definitely makes me uneasy to know that someone among us can’t be trusted.

Once I have my bag ready, I stop in the living room to grab a phone charger. My eyes fall on the photo that sits on the shelf, the beaming smiles sending a knife through my heart.

It’s a miracle that I still even have the photo. The mere sight of it is a constant reminder and a continual cause of pain every single time I see it.

I swallow the growing knot in my throat and force my gaze away. Making a beeline for the front door, I slip into my made man role as I flip off the light and prepare myself for whatever awaits me in New York.

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