“Everything is fine,” Alan barks at him, glaring.
The man ignores him, and even behind his glasses, I can feel his eyes on my face. “Are you okay, Blood Rose?”
His calling me that is the straw that breaks the camel's back. I glare between the both of them for a minute then move around Alan, unlock my door, and step through it. Before either can even dream of following me into my home, I slam and lock the door behind me. Once the door is locked, I don’t bother to turn on any lights as I move through the house. I make it to my room and fall face first on my bed, kicking my shoes off and quickly drifting off to sleep. Unfortunately, sleep is anything but peaceful.
Dreams—or memories, to be exact—of the night my life finally crashed and burned play on repeat. Something about the man in the shadow sticks with me the next morning, only I cannot figure out what it is.
Six
Vito
Loretta slams the door in Alan’s face, and I can’t help the evil grin that stretches across my face. He stands there with his fist balled at his side, not moving as if he can will the door to open. Turning, I jog back to my SUV and climb in, watching as Alan paces back and forth for a few minutes before walking to his car. Waiting, I leave only when he finally pulls away from her house. I make it to the gym at the same time as a few of my soldiers. I spend the next couple of hours working out with them, trying to push Loretta to the back of my mind.
I finally get her pushed into the corner of my mind and can start thinking through all theother bullshitin my life when my phone starts ringing. Walking over to the bench where I laid it, I pick it up and see it’s the man that I put on getting info on Alan is calling me. As I make my way out of the gym and into the scorching summer sun, I answer the call.
“That was fast,” I drawl, leaning against the wall.
“Well, when your daddy is the face of the county, it’s easy to find information,” he chuckles.
Processing his words, it finally hits me where I know the slime motherfucker from.
“He’s fucking Martin Davis’s shithead kid? No wonder he holds an air of superiority about him that makes me want to stab him in the throat,” I deadpan.
My contact laughs at my response. “That’s not all. There is something odd that popped up while I was digging. Before you say anything about this sounding crazy, just hear me out.”
“This really has to be bad if that is how you’re starting this next part,” I drawl, my eyes scanning the parking lot in front of me.
“There are some murders that happened when he was in certain places. Murders that have gone unsolved. I mean different places and even different MOs, but something about them is causing my mind to connect the dots no one else seems to be able to do,” he rambles quickly.
Next to the family, this man is the only one I would trust with my life. Fuck, there are some days I would trust him before I trusted the family. So if he says there is something going on, then there is something going on.
“Send me everything you’ve been able to find. I’ll look over,” I tell him as a couple of cop cars pull into the parking lot. “If you think there is something there, then I trust there is something there.”
“Fuck, there was a part of me that was hoping you’d call me a fucking psycho,” he chuckles as his fingers fly across the keyboard.
Distractedly I say, “To do what we do, that’s a requirement. I’ve got to go. Keep digging.”
The cops circle the lot before one of them pulls up in front of me and rolls down his window. “Vito.”
“Officer, what can I do for you?” I nod, fighting the sneer that is trying to stretch across my face.
This man is one of the worst. He takes advantage of the people around him, using his power to persuade women to do things in exchange for getting out of trouble. Pushing myself off the wall, I walk over to the police car, noting the fact he locks his door. That’s right, asshole. You may hold the badge, but I can still end you, no questions asked.
“I’ve been told that you’ve had a couple of run-ins with Alan Davis. You might find it beneficial to avoid him in the future,” Officer Fuckhead states, glaring at me.
I place my arm on the roof of his car, leaning down so that we’re eye-to-eye. “Do me a solid and remind Martin that if he has an issue, then he needs to address it with Andre or me—directly.”
The officer narrows his eyes. “I’ll be sure to relay the message. For now, let’s not start anything.”
“Dually noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, officer. I have things to do that don’t fucking include entertaining fucking errand boys.” I tap the roof of the police cruiser as I turn, going to my SUV.
I send a text message to my PI: Get me fucking everything not only on Alan but his fucking father as well.
Speeding out of the parking lot, I turn toward Loretta’s house without thought. Just needing to make sure that she’s okay. I don’t know why suddenly the need to protect her is driving me like a wild beast. I race to her home and slam on my brakes when I see her in the yard. She has her dark hair piled up on her head and is wearing short jean shorts and a sports bra. That’s not what causes a growl to erupt from my lips. It’s the very large tattoo of a blood rose on her back. I’m rock hard and pissed off all at the same fucking time.
“What the fuck is that woman wearing?” I grumble under my breath.
I don’t fucking know why or what comes over me, but I whip my SUV into her driveway, slamming it in park before jumping out and storming across her yard. She turns, looking at me with shock and fear filling her eyes the closer I get.
