It had been ten days since my kidnapping. The man I knew as Blaze was Hans Ulrich. That was what was on his American passport, but he had several aliases. The guys referred to him as Blaze Ulrich. He was part of the Murder Sanctum network. On the surface, little was known about him but several hits could be attributed to his specialty. He earned his moniker because he liked to set things on fire and blow things up. He was known as the ordnance expert of the mob.
The kids were in school. I was lounging by the pool, finally feeling more like myself since I didn’t have to take pain killers any longer or have to cake my face with foundation and concealer. The Brazilian balm from Bristow, which I suspected contained arnica, plus the two vitamin infusions I received from Ariana helped me heal faster. I was no longer swelling, and my bruises had faded into a greenish-yellowish hue.
The main thing in the past few days was the need to gird my loins and call my Chicago family.
I could only put it off for so long because the detectives were hitting a dead end. Levi also threatened to call them himself. Kelso indicated he was swinging by for dinner after a lead on the Russian gang in Vegas yielded interesting intel.
Intel. My mouth quirked up. I was beginning to sound like my husband.
My biological mother answered the phone on the second ring. “Kelly?” Her trademark husky voice made me think of a 50s era actress wearing a wide-brimmed fedora and double-stranded pearls around her neck.
“Yes. It’s me.”
“So good to hear from you, darling.”
After we exchanged awkward pleasantries and boring weather commentary, I said, “I left messages for Luca but he hasn’t returned my calls.”
“What do you need from him?” Sofia asked, her tone turning wary. My stepbrother was the current boss of the Chicago Mafia. After Sofia’s husband, Emilio, died, there was a brief power struggle between the cousins but it was obvious who was favored to become king. It was not out of the question that what happened to me could be blowback from that.
“I guess it would be useless to ask if Luca has enemies,” I said.
“What happened?” That time Sofia’s voice turned sharp.
I sighed before giving her a gist of what had transpired since Tom’s disappearance to my abduction, and rescue.
“And I’m only hearing about this now?” she screeched. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I’d been wondering why I was calmer about what happened. It was either being around my husband made me feel safe, or it was in my blood to deal with situations like this.
“I have been calling Luca since yesterday.” Okay, ‘have been’ was pushing it. I called twice and left a message once. I could hardly tell Sofia it turned my stomach every time I had to do obligatory calls to her side of the family. The less I contacted them, the better for my mental health.
“You have to be careful about the Vegas mob,” Sofia whispered. “They have ears everywhere. I will talk to Luca, but do not call me on this number again.”
The line went dead.
Puzzled, I stared at my phone.
She really did hang up. I looked at it a while longer, not really surprised with the way Sofia acted. What else was new? And as I’d practiced over the years, I shrugged it off. I was nothing to them.
“Doing all right out here?” Levi’s voice spoke behind me.
My heart jumped. “How do you sneak up like that?”
He just grinned and gave me a peck on the forehead before handing me a tall glass of iced tea.
“Hmm, special service,” I said. “I can get used to this. My own personal pool boy.”
He sat on the lounge chair beside me. “Were you talking to Sofia?”
I side-eyed him. “Spying on me?”
“Just wondering when you were going to call them. I offered, remember?”
“I can fight my own battles. I just needed time.”
Levi sighed. “That was a brief call.”
“She hung up on me.”
“What?”
I shot Levi the side-eye again. “Luca hasn’t returned my messages. Sofia doesn’t appear to know anything, but she warned me about the Vegas mob. Something smells fishy.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” I said. “She hung up.” I was getting irritated with my husband. I didn’t need him to needle me about how I chose to communicate with my family.
“I’ll call her,” Levi said, getting up from the lounger, but I tugged him down.
“Don’t,” I snapped. “They have better things to do than attend to a Kelly problem. I’m the poor relation, remember?”
“But their shit is affecting you,” he gritted.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Chances are they’ll deny it and do something else in the background to try and fix it,” he said grimly. “I’m not down with that. I’m not down with not knowing what the Chicago mob will do to ensure your safety. They could make it worse. If you don’t want to deal with them, I will. Got it?”
How could I stay irritated with my husband when he turned all growly and protective. So freaking sexy. Still, I didn’t want him sticking his nose in my Chicago business. That was like stirring a hornet’s nest. I knew he had friends in high places on speed dial, but we just needed to let Luca respond in his own sweet time. If there was something I knew about my stepbrother, no one forced him to do anything before he was ready. I knew that by rumor. How Luca once shot a business partner during a dinner meeting because he was being a pain in the ass and wanted Luca to sign off on a deal.
I took a sip of iced tea. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot. I can also do the cooking, and help with chores around the house.”
Levi exhaled a long sigh and said, “You did the same for me when I was laid out. But no, this is not me returning a favor.” He leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. “This is me taking care of my wife.”
“We don’t seem to have a problem picking up where we left off.” The morning after we decided to give our relationship a try, save for a little bit of awkwardness in the beginning, we’d adjusted smoothly. Then I grinned. “Except the other part.”
The sex. We hadn’t had sex.
Levi’s body froze. “I wanted you to be physically ready.” The heat in his eyes gave me a hot flash, and I gulped down the cold tea. “Having you sleep beside me, sometimes tucked into me … you don’t know how many cold showers a day I’ve taken.”
“We don’t have problems indulging,” I teased. “You’re the one who keeps putting off the real thing.”
He sat back, but the heat between us escalated. “Because sweetheart, the kids shouldn’t hear what I really want to do to you. I’m making sure you’re strong enough too.”
“I think I’m physically able to take that pounding now,” I whispered.
He gave a measured nod. “Yes. But I’m afraid your flimsy bed can’t withstand my pent-up hunger for you. We should do it at my house.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s wrong with my bed?”
“It creaks.”
“Hey, I bought that at an auction from the Great Gatsby remake.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I smiled sheepishly. “Well …”
“Christ. How much did you pay for that thing?”
“It all went to charity,” I defended. “The studio hired a craftsman from France.” He stared at me dubiously, so I changed the subject. “But what do we do with the kids?” I asked.
“They’re a pair of cock-blockers, aren’t they?”
“Levi, shame on you.”
He smiled wickedly. “Aren’t you looking forward to a Levi-headboard-wrecking pounding?”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I definitely was. The evidence of wetness between my thighs confirmed this.
A knowing smile spread across his face. He leaned closer, a hand resting on my lounger, pressed his lips on mine and swept his tongue into my mouth. Heat exploded between us, and I was dragged from my lounger onto his. He reclined and let me stretch on top of him. We got into the rhythm as we went at it with our tongues and lips, grinding against each other. I was glad the property had high walls because I was about to be ravaged on top of a pool lounger.
His hands went under my shirt. “You have too many clothes on.” His fingers glided to my butt and squeezed the globes. “Why couldn’t you have worn a skirt?” he groaned before resuming to devour my mouth.
I rubbed my pussy over his hardness.
When I finally came up for air, I breathed, “You don’t want me to make it easy for you, do you?” I said it with my tits brushing up against his chest. I could feel the vibration of his groan.
“You never make it easy, beautiful.”
“You’re a SEAL. You never want easy,” I murmured, my lips teasing him, not letting him catch them.
“That’s right.”
He stilled, angling his head toward the entrance of the patio like something caught his attention. “Kids are here.”
Levi
Kelso didn’t turn up until after dinner. Branna and Cillian, ever the reliable babysitters, came by that evening with their German Shepherd, Ruger, to help entertain the kids so they didn’t have to listen to the detective’s update.
I lowered a slab of sizzling ribeye in front of Kelso and sat beside him.
“Man, I do nothing here but eat.” He stole a quick glance at Bristow. “Is that why you’ve turned bodyguard for the kids?”
Bristow volunteered to pick up the girls from school that afternoon. “Contrary to my legendary appetite,” he replied. “I’m just helping out a friend. Besides, what will I do with my downtime?”
“You need to find a girlfriend,” Kelly told him, taking her seat on my left.
“Kids doing okay?” I asked.
“So far,” she said. “I warned Ashley not to taunt Ruger with Mr. Snuffles.”
“We’ve discussed Ruger’s need to hunt down an object.” I arched a brow. “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles will survive him.”
“Your daughter can be stubborn. Gramps said Ruger doesn’t become aggressive with a toy if you try to take it from him, so I’m not worried.”
“That dog has a playful streak,” Bristow said. “He sure liked playing keep away with his ball when I was over at the McGraths. That should wear out your girls.”
I tipped my chin at Kelso’s plate. “How’s the steak?”
“Rare, just the way I like it.”
“So what’s the news from Vegas?”
Kelso chewed slowly before unlocking the tablet he had with him and sliding it over to us. “There was a gang encounter that left a couple of Vegas mobsters dead.”
Kelly leaned in to look while Bristow left his chair to peek over my shoulder.
“All of them have a record,” the detective said. “Those are their mug shots. Any one of them look like the guy who was with Blaze?”
My wife scrolled through a few. “I’m pretty sure it was this one.” She tapped on the screen. “The tattoo definitely matches.”
“He fits the profile,” Kelso said. “Jude Eisenberg—a known member of Murder Sanctum and a hacker, so that answers how he rigged the surveillance and the entry gate at the studio. He owns a seat at the Sanctum table which means for him to be involved in your studio abduction shows how important getting to Roth was.”
“Couldn’t he have hacked the surveillance remotely?” Bristow asked.
I leaned back in my chair. “He could’ve, but maybe they were short on time and had to do it quickly.”
“From his file, he owns the drug territory in West Hollywood,” Kelso said. “He might have been in town at that time, so Blaze tagged him.”
“What exactly happened in Vegas?”
“I came straight from there which was why I was late,” Kelso said after gulping down the next bite. “I have a buddy with the Vegas PD. He told me there’s an ongoing gang war with money laundering at the casinos from drug revenue. It’s messy. Assassinations were carried out yesterday. Eisenberg was one of them.”
“Was one? Someone else was killed?”
Kelso swallowed another bite, chased it down with beer, and tipped his chin toward the tablet in my hand. “Keep going.”
There were three more guys, but Kelly shrugged. “I don’t recognize any of them.”
“They’re all associates of Simon Stepanov,” Kelso said. “Which only confirms that Murder Sanctum is heavily involved.” He glanced at Kelly. “Were you able to contact Chicago?”
“I left a message for my stepbrother,” she answered. “I talked to Sofia, and she said she’ll get back to me.
A look of frustration crossed the detective’s face like he wanted to push Kelly. I caught his gaze and shook my head.
The detective’s jaw hardened before continuing, “According to my friend, it’s a case of gangs jockeying for heroin territory. It’d been a headache for them and it’s becoming one for us because Moscow White is reaching LA.” The detective glanced at Kelly. “It’s heroin spiked with a compound that gives it a special hit. Several deaths had been attributed to it. It’s surpassed the high of the ones cut with Fentanyl.”
“Damn,” I interjected.
Bristow went back to his seat and fired up his laptop.
Kelso finished eating and drained his beer.
“You eat fast,” Kelly said. “Want another one?”
A thoughtful look crossed the detective’s face. “No. I’m good.”
“Dessert?” My wife prodded. “Nana brought her famous Irish Cheesecake.”
“Ahhh,” Kelso said sheepishly. “You may not want to serve me dessert after my questions.”
“What questions?” she asked.
“Could it be possible it was your stepbrother who called the hit on Eisenberg?”
“What?” Kelly’s tone was of genuine surprise.
“You said Blaze took pictures right? He posted it in a dark web chatroom. I’m sure Roth wasn’t the only one who saw it. I bet you Moretti would’ve caught wind of it too. As payback, he killed Eisenberg and took their drugs.”
My wife gave a mirthless laugh. “You overestimate my importance to the Chicago mob.”
“Cards on the table,” Kelso said. “You say you’re not important? Vegas is a mobster’s lair, we know this. So, my buddy up there has a file on you too. Why wouldn’t they? You are the granddaughter of the former Rossi crime boss. You’re the daughter of Sofia Rossi Moretti, the widow of the former head of the Chicago crime family.”
“The Rossis only acknowledged me during my aunt’s wedding,” Kelly whispered. She stood and walked to the kitchen window, staring into the backyard. “I’ve never been anything special. I was never invited to Rossi gatherings. I’m considered an embarrassment. Robert and Madelyn McGrath are—and always will be—my parents. It’s on my birth certificate.” She turned back to Kelso. “I don’t think I merit any attention from the Morettis.”
“Crime families are about blood. You are still one of them. What if Murder Sanctum thinks because you’re outside the immediate protection of both families, you’d be an easier target?” Bristow floated up the idea that had been echoing in the back of my mind.
“I don’t think Luca would be outraged on my behalf enough to retaliate,” Kelly said. “That would be risky for the family with little benefit.”
“Mafia ties are deep and complicated,” I told her.
“You can’t help but wonder if Chicago whacked Eisenberg because of what he did to our mafia princess here …” Bristow said.
Kelso started nodding his head. “That idea has merit.”
“Ugh, I’m not a mafia princess,” Kelly griped.
Everyone chuckled around the table.
“The Eisenberg homicide belongs to the Vegas PD, and they will keep me apprised on the investigation,” the detective told us.
The door to the backyard swung open and Cillian walked in. “Did you all get my granddaughter squared away?”
“There’s been a slight complication.” I gave her grandfather a gist of what Kelso had told us.
“Simon Stepanov … interesting.” Cillian looked thoughtful. “Do you remember Isaac Ford, Kelly?”
“Ford …” Kelly said. “Are you talking about the son of the former senator of New York, Walter Ford?”
“The one and only.”
“How is he connected?” I remembered the scandal regarding the senator’s son. He was found guilty of securities fraud. The senator resigned his post. The man was a billionaire. He didn’t hurt for the salary of a public servant, but it was the embarrassment stemming from his son’s actions that caused him to resign.
“The younger Ford was convicted of insider trading and short selling,” Cillian said. “SDNY hired McGrath Investigations to dig into the anomalies in the case. It was Robert’s findings that allowed the U.S. Attorney to prosecute.”
“Yes, so?”
“Murder Sanctum was rumored to be behind the prison riot that killed Isaac Ford.”
Kelso and Bristow straightened in their seats. Kelly’s grandfather had a captive audience.
“There were speculations in the mob that the riot was deliberate to mask the hit on Ford,” Cillian said.
“He ordered his own son whacked?” Bristow asked incredulously.
“Ordered it?” Cillian scoffed. “No. I’d say he was fatalistic about it. The Russian oligarchs made the old man rich. He knew it was coming. Isaac was a scapegoat if you ask me and the kid knew too much. It’s Walter who was secretly manipulating things behind the scenes. He didn’t order his son killed, but knowing the older Ford, he had no choice. How old is he now? Seventy? Back in the day, there were rumors the New York mob got him his seat in the senate. In return for favors, of course.” He glanced at Kelso. “After RICO took out most of the Italian bosses, they decided to lie low when it came to whacking people. They never do that anymore, preferring to outsource it to the Irish or to the Russians. That’s where Simon Stepanov came in with Sanctum.”
“I thought Stepanov was an associate of Chicago?”
Cillian shrugged. “Chicago used to run Murder Sanctum, but they had a falling out in the past six years.”
“Right around the time the younger Ford got whacked.”
“Who would know more about this?” Kelso asked.
“I could ask around,” Cillian said.
“Gramps,” Kelly chided. “I don’t want you calling any of them. You promised Nana.”
“But if it’s going to help you, pumpkin.” Her gramps’ face grew tender. Branna and Cillian had an on-again-off-again marriage mostly related to his life of crime. He and his son Charles went to prison in ’89 on racketeering charges. Charles was released earlier, Cillian in ’96. The way the McGraths had told it, Branna had been adamant about not taking Cillian back because he ruined Charles’ life who was twenty-one at that time. Cillian pursued Branna for the next five years until she relented. He stayed away from mob business. Over twenty years later, they’re as strong as ever. I wondered if all this turmoil in Kelly’s life influenced her leeriness of getting back with me. She had to know. She and the girls mean everything to me.
“It would help if you could ask around,” Kelso hedged, casting Kelly another wary look. My wife could be downright scary when she wanted to. She had the McGrath crystal blue eyes that flashed almost translucent when she was emotional.
“Will do.”
“Dad! Mom!” Whitney burst into the kitchen, her eyes full of excitement. “Ruger tore up Mr. Snuffles.”
Fuck.
Branna walked in with a teary-eyed Ashley dragging Mr. Snuffles on the floor. A Mr. Snuffles eviscerated by a rambunctious Ruger judging from the stuffing hanging from the ripped fur.
“I thought I told you to get Levi,” Branna told her husband.
“Got sidetracked with business.”
“What business?” the McGrath matriarch demanded.
“Oh no, sweetie.” Kelly crouched in front of our daughter. I didn’t doubt that was also to distract her grandmother from ripping Cillian a new one.
“You were right, Mama,” Ashley’s mouth quivered.
“I tried to take it from him.” Whitney panted as though she’d run in a marathon.
“I’ll get him.” Cillian walked to the back door before throwing over his shoulder. “He was playing keep away, that’s all.”
When Kelly’s grandfather returned with the German Shepherd, he called my girls over. “Now make up with each other.”
“Hmm … I don’t know.” My youngest pouted. “He destroyed Mr. Snuffles.”
“And your mom warned you not to bring him out,” I said. “Ruger thought it was one of his chew toys. You can’t do that to him, baby girl. You can’t set him up to fail just because you want to tease him. If you can’t learn that, we’re not getting a dog.”
Ashley turned teary eyes up at me, her mouth struggling not to quiver, and I thought she was going to bawl her eyes out. But I stood my ground. It was probably the harshest I’d ever been with her, but I didn’t budge.
“Nana said she’ll fix Mr. Snuffles for you,” Kelly added.
Ashley returned her attention to Ruger. “I guess I forgive him.”
“Now, that’s settled,” Cillian said with satisfaction. “How about you all come over to my place on Sunday for a barbecue?”
I could see Bristow’s eyes lighting up like a spotlight.
“Kelly’s cousin is flying in from New York.” Cillian split a look between the two unattached males in the room. “She’s single and smart.”
“Oh my God, Gramps, stop matchmaking,” Kelly groaned.
