“I’m tapping out,” Cassandra groans, leaning back in the sole chair.
We slept past noon and ordered another round of room service. Only this time we ate at the desk in the corner instead of on the bed. And I made Cassandra use the chair while I just leaned against the wall.
If I hadn’t been so busy hating the employee who checked us in last night, I would’ve asked for a suite.
Cassandra was already interested in me when she thought all I could afford was one cheap, run-down house. So I know I don’t need to impress her with fancy hotel rooms. But it would’ve been nice to give her something special after yesterday.
I eye what’s left of her club sandwich. “You’re not gonna finish it?”
She presses her hands to her stomach. “It was huge. I’m too full.”
It was huge. I’m too full.
My blood simmers, and I drag my gaze from her plate up to her face. “That’s one, Butterfly.”
Her mouth drops in an indignant expression. “What? I didn’t even do—” Then her lips press together, and she rolls her eyes. “I was talking about a sandwich.”
“Doesn’t matter. You still said it.”
She pretends to be annoyed, but I can see the smile she’s fighting. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably.” I lift a shoulder. “Can I finish it?” I point to her leftovers.
She smirks. “It’s all yours, Baby.”
My balls tighten as I reach down and pick up the food. “One and a half.”
Cassandra lets out a full laugh, and I grin as I shove the last bite of her sandwich into my mouth.
It tastes better than I know it should. But that’s because it’s hers. She had her hands on it. Her mouth on it.
I lick a smudge of mayo off my fingertip.
From the few meals we’ve shared, I think it’s safe to say my obsession with consuming her food doesn’t just apply to her home bakes, but also to anything she’s eaten herself.
My eyes move to the crumbs on her plate.
Cassandra seems to let a lot of my bad behavior go, but licking sandwich crumbs off a hotel plate might be too much.
I’m still considering it when my phone rings, making the decision for me.
I pull it out of my pocket and set it on the table between us. A1—Alliance One, Nero’s designation—fills my screen.
I answer and put it on speaker. “Quick work.”
“Had my best guys on it,” Nero replies. And I wonder if he’s talking about him and King. “So, the dead guy—nice shot, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Cassandra responds automatically, then slaps a hand over her mouth.
There’s a beat before Nero speaks again. “Well, this just got more interesting. You a part of the hit crew that saved Dom and Val?”
“No,” I reply before Cassandra can.
Nero hums. “Then who are you?”
He still addresses his question to Cassandra, but I still answer. “No.”
“Alright, we can circle back to that.” I can hear Nero tap a keyboard. “So, our dead guy has ties to a branch of the Corsican mafia.” Dread twists in my gut. “Word is that some French fuck with a bunch of money is back in the game, and he hired a crew to take you out. I personally haven’t heard of him before—”
“Gabriel Marcoux.” I speak the name I think of every single day.
Nero pauses. “That’s the one. You know him?”
I stare at the table. “I killed most of the men under him.”
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Why?” Nero’s tone is too curious.
“You don’t need to know that,” I grit out, and a soft hand settles on top of the one I have fisted on the table.
“Maybe not. But as you know, I can find out. So if we’re building trust here…” Nero trails off.
I loosen my fingers, and Cassandra immediately intertwines hers.
I let out a breath. “His men kidnapped and murdered my sister. He was in charge at the time, behind the scenes. But he disappeared before I could get to him.”
Nero makes a low, angry sound at my admission before adding, “And now he’s back.”
“Now he’s back,” I repeat, because it must be true.
“So… want help killing him?” Nero offers, catching me off guard.
My first instinct is to refuse, but refusing help from a group as powerful as these guys would be stupid.
“I need to be the one who kills him,” I say slowly.
“Oh, we’ll let you do the heavy lifting. But we can offer extra hands.”
I tip my head to the side. “Are you offering me The Alliance?”
“Nothing is free.”
“Exactly.”
Nero heaves out a breath. “Diamond Dom owes you a life debt, and he’d be happy to get that off his back. Which would cover part of what I’m offering.”
“Part,” I repeat. “And then what? I owe you a favor and we just keep trading?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.” He says it like he’s no stranger to trading favors. “Plus we could always use another boogeyman at our disposal.”
“Boogeyman?”
Nero snorts. “What? You think your name makes people think of fucking sprinkles and ponies?”
“Sprinkles and ponies?” Cassandra snickers.
I shake my head, then direct my attention back to the phone. “What exactly is your plan?”
“What makes you think I have a plan?”
“You wouldn’t be offering me a spot on the A Team if you didn’t already have some sort of plan.”
“Yesterday, you sounded like you knew where I lived.”
“I do.” It’s not a big secret. Nero is a rich business owner, as well as one of the leaders of The Alliance. He has a big house in a rich neighborhood not far from Minneapolis.
“Come over.”
I squeeze Cassandra’s hand. “My girl is with me.”
Nero makes a sound of dismissal. “And my wife is here. You’re not fucking cool.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not bragging. I’m trying to tell you that if you cross me and she gets hurt, I will end you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Death and destruction. I got it.”
I shake my head. “We gotta stop at my place first. Then we’ll head over.”
“Try not to get killed.” Nero ends the call.
