“Hey, Fucker,” Duke shouts from behind me. I stop in place, knowing better than to assume he’s not talking to me. When I turn around, I see that he’s got his arms crossed over his chest and he’s fixing me with a hard glare. “Good job giving me a head’s up about this shit.”
“Didn’t have time, brother,” I say.
“Fuck you,” he says. “You rode off without a fucking word. We’re supposed to be bros and this is how you do me?” He’s used to being in the loop, and obviously being out of the loop pisses him off. Truth be told, I wasn’t fucking thinking about giving him a head’s up. I had other shit to attend to. I still have other shit to attend to. We leave in six fucking hours, and I gotta take the van with Wyatt up to Willits to get more ammo and then get back here. It’s gonna be a long fucking night, and this dickhead wants to sort his shit out.
When Pop came to me tonight, asking where I was coming at with this thing with Alex, I didn’t even think about it. She’s family even if she doesn’t know it. Ma’s been telling us about her for as long as I can remember. She’s important to Ma, and that makes her important to me. But instead of preparing to go up against Mancuso and his men, I’m standing here having a fucking bitch fest with this asshole.
Duke’s attention drifts across the room, but his body remains still as his eyes shoot daggers at Nic, one of the club’s pickiest—and meanest—whores. He shakes his head at the sight of her, sitting at a bar stool in tight-ass jeans and a flimsy tank top.
“Don’t get pissed at me because you’re hard up and Nic won’t give you the time of day,” I say with a smile. His eyes flash in anger as he strides toward me. We’re nose to nose now, and my temper kicks in. My entire body tenses and prepares to throw down. “It’s all good, brother. She’s Grade-A fine with a side of crazy, but she sucks a mean dick.”
He reaches up and pounds his fist into the side of my head. My vision blurs, and it takes me a moment before I can see straight again. A hand flattens itself on my chest and puts pressure, moving me backward. I shake away the blurriness to see Wyatt standing between us.
“We’re going to need everybody in one piece,” he says to Duke. “Go ahead and get drunk. You just earned yourself a spot in the van.”
“Fuck you,” Duke hisses at Wyatt, who just shakes his head.
“Not helping, brother. You already got bitch duty. Keep it up,” Wyatt says. I turn and walk away, to which Wyatt shouts after me, “And where the fuck are you going?”
“Check on Ma. Meet me at the house with the van,” I call out as I walk through the door and out into the cool night air. It’s gonna be a long fucking week, and I need to let Ma know that it’s a go. As I pull out of the Forsaken lot, I force myself to calm down. We’ve done a lot of shit in the time I’ve been patched, but nothing like this. Don’t think we’ve ever taken on anything this fucked up. Taking on the Italian mafia is no fucking joke. I just hope this girl is worth the risk we’re taking.
Chapter 1
May
Alex
A woman's place in public is to sit beside her husband, be silent, and be sure her hat is on straight.
Bess Truman
THE ROOM IS packed full of Italians to the point where I think the walls might explode. This many Armani suits and Versace dresses in one house can only mean one thing around here: somebody is dead.
Across the room, my best friend, Adriana Thomas stands, looking as bored as I feel. I catch her attention, and with a head nod and eyebrow arch she knows exactly what I’m looking at. She puts her hand over her mouth and giggles, making me giggle, too. It’s so ridiculous. Sidled up to the dessert table is my Aunt Gloria. She has one of Uncle Emilio's giant cannolis in her mouth, the cream filling all over her face, not even noticing the mess she's made of herself. Uncle Emilio will not be pleased if he catches sight of this. He's been trying to calm Aunt Gloria's appetite for years.
My father's hand, wrapped around my forearm, tightens, and I remember that I’m supposed to be paying attention to the conversation before me. I turn back to my father, Carlo Mancuso, and smile apologetically. I'd forgotten my place for a moment there. Across from my father stands one of his soldiers, Leonardo Scavo, who—as always—keeps his dark brown eyes on me. A blush forms on my cheeks and I look away, smiling. Leo’s just barely twenty-three and is quickly rising in the ranks on his way to becoming a Capo. He’s smart, good-looking, and my father trusts him, which meant he has some serious earning power. I try to remind myself that I could do much worse than Leo Scavo.