Page 22 of Shotgun Daddy
Adler set his clipboard down, leaned back in his wicker chair and gave a grudging nod.
“Better. Much better,” Adler said. “You’ve got fire in you, boy. Keep that up, and you might actually get somewhere.”
“Thank you, Mr. Adler.” Reece said, doing his best to hide how happy he was inside.
Reece still didn’t love Adler’s tough approach, but he could handle it now. And all because of Faustino. The paddling had flipped a switch in Reece, made him see he couldn’t let jerks like Adler or even Timo derail his dreams. He had to fight through, and Faustino had given him the push he needed.
As he left the studio, Reece felt lighter than he had in days.
And it was all thanks to one man… Faustino.
Suddenly, Reece was beginning to wonder whether Faustino might just be the kind of Daddy who, deep down, had always been right for him. It was early days, and they hadn’t even kissed yet or done any of the really sexy stuff, but Reece had afunny feeling that he was going to be dreaming about his gruff, sexy Daddy all night long…
Chapter 10
Faustino
The Fendi mansion loomed at the end of the winding drive, an elegant silhouette against the gray afternoon sky.
Faustino guided his motorcycle up the gravel path, the engine’s throaty rumble reverberating off the Italian stone walls draped in ivy.
As Faustino stopped, he felt the crisp air, laced with the scent of pine from the dense woods that circled the estate. But this wasn’t a time to stand around taking in the scenery. It was time to get down to business…
It wasn’t long after entering the house that Faustino heard familiar voices. From down the hall, the study beckoned and it was clear that Michael and Matteo were already in full swing.
Faustino’s gut churned as he approached. He’d gotten their reassurances over the phone two nights ago: they both swore that they knew nothing about the hit at the warehouse. No one in the family had ordered it, they said. And Faustino wanted more than anything to believe them. But if they weren’t behind it, why the hell hadn’t they shown up like they’d promised?
Faustino needed answers, and he wasn’t leaving without them – dead, or alive…
The study door creaked as Faustino shoved it open, the sound sharp against the soft crackle of the fireplace within. Matteo stood by the hearth, a whisky in his hand, the fire’s flames casting flickering shadows across his face. Michael sat behind the imposing desk, arms crossed over his black suit, not giving much away.
“Glad you could make it,” Matteo said, his voice smooth but on edge. “Drink?”
“Cut the shit,” Faustino snapped, staying by the door, his hands jammed in his pockets to keep them from balling into fists. “You said you’d be at the warehouse. I nearly took a bullet or ten to my body. Start talking...”
Michael straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Matteo. “We didn’t set you up, brother. You’ve got our word on that. Blood to blood.”
“Your word’s only good if it explains why you left me hanging,” Faustino shot back, his eyes darting between them. “Someone knew I’d be there alone. Someone who wanted me dead. If it wasn’t you, then who?”
“We were delayed,” Matteo said. “A meeting with Vito Russo. West Coast business. He’s angling for an alliance. Big money, bigger stakes. He’s private as hell though, you know that. No phones, no messages, nothing. We ran over by two hours. By the time we got out, you were gone, and the warehouse was empty.”
Faustino’s jaw clenched, his mind racing, trying to figure this all out.
“And you didn’t think to check why I wasn’t answering?” Faustino asked. “Someone took a shot at me. Well, a shit-ton of shots. And you’re telling me you still don’t know who?”
“That’s the kicker. We don’t know.” Michael said. “And that’s not good for any of us. No chatter on the streets, no leads from our street spies. It’s like it came out of thin air. Which means…”
“There might be a rat,” Matteo finished, his voice dropping low. “Someone close, feeding info. That hit wasn’t random. There’s no way. If they knew you’d be there alone, they’re playing a deeper game.”
Faustino paced a few steps.
A rat in the family? It wasn’t unthinkable. Loyalty could turn sour faster than milk in this life. And yet… he’d fought beside these men, bled for them, taken over the family empire with them.
“So what’s the move?” Faustino asked. “And I want back in on the decisions. I’m done being the guy you send out to take the hits while you two play business with a West Coast boss.”
Matteo shook his head, stepping closer.
“Not yet. Right now, it’s better if it looks like there’s a rift between us,” Matteo said. “Let our enemies think we’re cracking. Let’s see how they move, who they reach out to. It gives us the upper hand. You’re still in, Faustino. But we need you out there causing a decoy, not up here calling shots.”
