ALESSIO
By the time Saturday came around, Matteo had explained seven ways he wanted to throttle me, and most included hanging me upside down by my toenails or some such bullshit like my father used to threaten me with when I spent too much time worrying over things beyond my control.
“Did you get the information or not, Matteo?”
He scoffed. “I can find a rat turd in the middle of the desert if that’s what you need. Looking into Lila’s life is the easiest job you’ve ever given me.” He threw a folder on the desk, the papers inside sliding into my lap. “That boutique of hers is prime. Perfect location for running merch.”
“No.” I shut him down with a look, the dark growl in my voice finishing the job. “We’re not running any goods through Lila’s store.”
“Damn it, Alessio. I understand she’s special, but you’ve never let emotions keep you from running your business before.” He dropped into the seat across from me, his playful pretending evaporating and the real Matteo rearing his intelligent head. “You’re no dreamer. You don’t let emotion get in the way. What’s really going on?”
He was right. Papa knocked the dreamer out of me years ago. Lila almost brought it back during our fling, then my world destroyed that last bit I’d held onto until I saw her four days ago. I pulled a photo of Lila and the boy from the stack and held it up.
Matteo grimaced and tried to stare me down.
I raised one eyebrow and slammed the picture onto the desk. “Finish your report.”
“You’re an asshole, that’s my report.” He sat back and propped his hands behind his head. His left knee bounced up and down, his gaze skimming my face. “Fuck it. She’s raising the boy alone. Birth certificate puts him at six years old. No father listed. She opened the boutique three years ago and has turned it into a place where she caters to the rich and famous. Mrs. Walker was in there last week. Her husband is the one running narcs on the other side of town for us.”
“Any sign Lila is involved with any of the syndicates?” An uncomfortable feeling squeezed my middle.
Matteo’s knee jerked faster. “Nothing. She’s quiet. Stepford wife kind of life but without the man.”
I’d always trusted my instincts. They screamed at me that Lila was on the right side of the law. I knew better than to trust appearances. Everyone lied. I’d come to expect that from everyone except her. She belonged in the light where no dark existed, not with me in the midnight hours that brought gunfire and torture to the very real waking hours.
“Keep an eye on her.” I shoved everything back into the folder and pushed it into a drawer. I’d come back to it later when Matteo left.
His knowing grin stiffened my shoulders when he leaned forward and used my desk as an anchor for his hands. “How special is this woman?”
“Special enough I’ll knock your fucking teeth in if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face and do your job.” I stood and buttoned my jacket. “I’m going out.”
“I’ll get Renzo.” Matteo reached for his phone.
I waved him off. “No. I’ll go alone.”
“If one of us tried that bullshit, you’d have us locked in the panic room before we blinked twice.” He shook his head in a slow wag and clicked his tongue. “Boss, you got it bad.”
If he knew the truth of it, he’d have Renzo lock me in my own panic room until I came to my senses.
“Don’t wait up.” I tapped his shoulder with my index finger. “Keep an eye on things.”
“Always.” Matteo’s grin remained in place, but behind his eyes, the calculating strategist shone bright and clear.
I drove to Lila’s boutique, second guessing my motives but going anyway and checking my mirrors every few feet to ensure I didn’t drag a tail along for the ride.
The boutique was nestled into the middle of a shopping district, the street crammed full of people, many of them actors in disguise trying to act normal as they browsed. I sat in the car and watched her shop for ten minutes and continued to check behind and all around for anyone who might wish me harm.
This was the life—the legacy—my father left me. Always on guard. Always looking for the tripwire or ambush that would take me out. That was what I’d tried to save Lila from, and that was the world I risked dragging her into if I walked into that shop.
I had to know.
Opening the car door let in a rush of sound and the city’s stench. I grimaced and rushed across the street, yanking open the glass door and stopping to appreciate the delicate aroma I’d noticed last time.
Lila stood to my left, her back to me as she hung a dress on a hook. A pale blue suit clung to her curves, highlighting her ass and the narrow stretch of her waist beneath the short jacket. Her shoulders twitched. A sharp inhale followed, and she jerked around to face me.
“We’re closed.” Her arms crossed, and she gave me a Renzo-worthy glare.
I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “Sign says you’re open.”
