Page 500 of One More Kiss

Love & Loyalty

Linzi Baxter

Paolo

“Mr. Manocchio,”a man said when I entered my dark apartment. “I’ve been waiting a while.”

I stilled at the sound of the raspy voice. My heart raced. I slid my hand down my side and wrapped my fingers around the handle of my gun.

For years, I’d wanted this man dead: Vincenzo Bilotti, the boss of the Bilotti Famiglia.

With a flick of my finger, I switched on the light. The dark-haired man sat on my chair, a cigar hanging from his lips.

One of the first things I’d learned at a young age was not to show any emotion, especially around the Bilotti family. Rumors flooded the streets over the years that the Bilotti could sense a flicker of weakness.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Mr. Manocchio,” he said as a shadow moved behind me. “Marco, here, will have a bullet in the back of your head before you even draw your gun.”

Marco Piazza, Vincenzo’s consigliere. Marco pressed his gun between my shoulder blades and shoved me forward.

I held up my hands up. If I pulled my gun from the holster, I was a dead man.

“Take his weapon.” Vincenzo nodded toward my side.

Marco reached around me and retrieved my gun.

“Leave us,” Vincenzo said to Marco.

Even with Marco out of the room, I wasn’t safe. Vincenzo hadn’t become the longest living don of the Bilotti family by making mistakes.

“What are you doing here, Vincenzo?” I growled.

My thousand-dollar alarm system never notified me of the break in.

Years I’d work to find dirt on Vincenzo Bilotti. The man had managed to always keep his name and prints away from any crime. Nothing stuck, and nobody ever turned on him. My rookie year, I found a witness who claimed she saw him kill a man. Except an hour later, during the lineup she took her statement back and claimed she couldn’t remember anything. Two weeks later, she left town.

I’d sworn I would take him down. A decade of undercover work and free time researching him, and I still didn’t have anything on him. My colleagues and I had tried our hardest to bring Vincenzo to justice for the atrocities he had committed but no matter what we had on him, he always managed to escape our clutches.

“I’ve always liked you, Manocchio,” he said. “You take no shit, even from your own partner. You do what’s right and you’re good at what you do.”

“Plying me with compliments,” I said dryly. “Must be a slow day for the boss.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Far from it. Business is booming, but you know that, don’t you, boy?”

I clenched my jaw. He was being an ass for a reason, trying to get a reaction from me. I wouldn’t stoop to his level.

“What is it that you want, Vincenzo? I sure as fuck know that it’s not to sit down and shoot the shit.”

He flashed me his shark's grin. “No, Paolo, it’s not. As much as it fucking grates on me to say this, I need your help.”

My mouth dropped open. “Never knew you were funny, Vin, but damn, I almost busted a gut from that joke.”

He pulled the cigar from his mouth and leaned forward in his chair. “Do I look as though I’m making a fuckin’ joke, kid?“

I blinked at him in disbelief. “With all the thugs you have working for you, why the hell me? You do realize I’m a cop, right?”

He raised a brow. “What do you take me for? I know all about you, Paolo Manocchio. Absolutely everything there is to know about you and the life you have led. It’s why I think you’re the perfect candidate for the job that I have lined up.”

I scoffed at the idea of working for the man I wanted to see behind bars. “Not taking a job from you, Bilotti.”

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