He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes roam my body again.
“My boyfriends aren’t here. This is my stepbrother, Asher, and my friend Walker. Who are you?”
Hopefully, by introducing him to my escorts, he’ll give me his name, at least. I’m thinking Bones sent me on some kind of suicide mission. He gave me this location. He told me it was for the Amato family. But maybe it’s their rivals. But then the guard at the gate would have found that odd when I asked for Alessandro Amato. He wouldn’t have called this guy up if I was in the wrong place.Would he?
Asher places his hand on my back, and I take a deep breath. I need to calm down. This is okay. We’ll work it out.
“I’m Alessandro Amato. You were going to jump over a fence for me.” The corner of his lip raises.
The look on my face gives away my surprise. He laughs, and it’s deep and throaty.
“Yes, well, from that look, I’m assuming you were looking for my father and not me. He’s not here.”
Oh, my god. He has a son. I saw nothing about that while researching Alessandro. I guess I wasn’t looking for a son, so I had no idea he had one who shares the same name.
I let out a deep breath. “Fuck. Do you know when he will be back?”
Alessandro looks at Walker, then back to me. “He won’t see you, Mila,” he says, then stands and nods his head to Walker. “You’re QB1 for Lakeview?”
Walker grunts. “Yeah, I am.”
“Damn, we could have used your arm over at Royale.”
I look at Walker, and just like that, he starts chatting about football like this is some regular day. Then Asher pipes in, and I’m standing there, confused as all hell, while they make friends with the mobster’s son.
“Fuck this.” The room grows quiet and all eyes are on me.
I grab the ten grand out of my bag and push it against Alessandro’s chest. He holds it to his chest with a confused look. I take a step back letting go of it.
“Here. This is why I’m here. I want your father to leave my boyfriends and me alone. Roman Valentine won’t be fighting and losing football games anymore. I will pay off the debt that’s not even his. It’s his dead father’s.”
I poke Alessandro in his chest, and his eyes track my finger with a look that would normally send shivers down my spine, but I don’t care anymore. I’m not here to talk about football. I’m here to get this debt paid.
“If you give drugs to a junkie and expect to be paid after, that’s your own dumb business mistake. Not Roman’s. So, if you could call your father and ask how big the debt is, I will get the rest of the cash and call this the end and part ways. We won’t be seeing or receiving more texts from the assholes who hit me with their car and almost killed me.”
Asher gasps and Walker stands there, stunned. I’m even more stunned that I said it out loud, but fuck it, it’s out there now. Alessandro looks to the money and back to me, his brow furrowing a little, and that angers me more.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. My father doesn’tgivedrugs to junkies.”
I make a sound in the back of my throat. I’m going to fucking hit this prick. Yes, he did. At least his lackeys did.
“The Amato family gave Damon drugs, and when he couldn’t pay, they made his son, Roman—my boyfriend—take on the debt. They make him fight in an underground club called The Shed every week. They’ve made him lose his high school football games. Just so they could bet on them and make money to pay off the debt. Which, considering the drugs aren’t what killed Damon, they didn’t give him that much. So, ten grand should cover the drugs at least.”
I draw in a deep breath. I don’t care that Asher and Walker can hear everything. This needs to be done.
“Then, last night’s fight where he was supposed to lose and didn’t…I don’t know how much they lost on the bet, so if you can find that out for me, I will pay it off too.”
The room is quiet, and Asher reaches for my hand. I take it. I’m shaking. I don’t think hitting Alessandro will make this any better. I just needed to get it all off my chest.
I need him to know that it’s fucking bullshit, and I’m done with it all. Roman needs to be free. He needs to live his life again—all of us do—and this isn’t living, looking over our shoulders every five minutes. I’m done.
If they want to kill us.
Just do it already.
FOURTEEN
ASHER
