Chapter 4

4

The security footage didn't show who got into the warehouse, but it did show me how they got in.

I'm leaning against my Challenger Jet, foot propped against the wheel with my hands stuffed in my pockets when Dallas, Rhodes, and three of Ricci's soldiers- Dominic, Cade, and Adam- walk into the hangar.

"Gentleman," I greet with a tilt of my head. "Guns out. Empty your chambers, give the clips to Rocco, and take a seat."

These men appear to be loyal, I'll give them that. No one hesitates at my command and it's a small relief knowing as much. Fingers tap, knees bounce, and arms fold in a nervous fashion as they take their seats around the card table.

I push off from the tire, the heels of my dress shoes clipping against the concrete as I slowly roll my cuffs up my forearms and circle the table. "I pay you well, no?" I ask, cutting straight to the point.

Heads bob up and down as their cautious eyes follow me around, like this is some twisted game of duck duck goose.

"Good, I thought so. But apparently, I don't give you enough time for...recreational activities," I say, pausing between Adam and Cade, fingers curling around the back of an empty chair.

The sound of the metal legs of the chair scraping against the concrete reverberates around us as I draw it backwards and take a seat. I lean back, kicking a foot up to rest an ankle on my opposite knee while pulling my Glock from my waistband. Adam's shoulders tense as my fingers flex lightly on the grip, one resting on the barrel as I balance it on my thigh.

Good, the fucker should be scared.

"You all work security here. Now, I know it's not a job with a fancy title, but you each are a leader to your teams. I appreciate that. Without good security, things go missing, sometimes even people."

From the corner of my eye, I see Rocco moving closer, a sheet of folded plastic neatly tucked under his arm.

"Dallas," I say, lifting my chin. "You checked the footage, what'd it show?"

"There's a dead zone on the northeast corner. A drone came in several times over the last few weeks and was nudging one of the cameras in the other direction."

"Hmm," I muse. "But with the motion sensors, how did this go unnoticed?" I ask with mock curiosity.

Dallas' throat bobs with his swallow. He rolls his shoulders back and lets out a slightly ragged breath before answering, "Because the sensors were overridden and turned off on that side of the building."

I gasp, acting like this is some startling revelation to me. And I shit you not, all five of these fully grown, made men, with tattoos and rap sheets, jump.

Rocco takes that as his cue to shake out the plastic, laying it down beside me. Everyone sees this action, but none of them dare to move.

"See boys, upgrades were made after the last mishap. Now I can see who does what within the system."

I spring forward from my seat, one hand gripping the gun, the other circling Adam's throat as I push him backward, kicking the chair away.

His eyes widen in shock, fingers clawing at my wrist as I pin him down on the plastic sheet. "Tell me, was it worth it? Are a dime bag and corner pussy good enough to die for?"

He wheezes and tries to shake his head no as I press the muzzle between his eyes. "I tolerate your drug use, hell, I don't even mind that you got your dick wet on the clock. But this wasn't the first domino to fall. No, you lost your keys, the fence was cut, all things you should've reported."

Click.

His body stills beneath me as he hears the safety come off, like he's accepting it and making peace with la Madonna.

I make the mistake of easing my grip, giving him the oxygen he needs to buck his hips and try to kick me.

He makes the mistake of thinking he can overpower me before my reflexes kick in. The gun shifts, I dig the heel of my hand into his windpipe, and I pull the trigger.

Bang!

"Cazzo," I hiss as crimson drops splatter against my Dolce&Gabanna shirt. This is the last time I wear white for this brand of business. Isabella was really onto something with the all-black attire.

I click the safety back into place, slipping the gun into my waistband as I straighten and stand. "We move the product, we don't use the product," I say, locking eyes with each man's stoic face as I step over Adam's lifeless body. "And we certainly don't lie to the boss."

I dismiss them with a flick of my head and the men file out of the hangar, taking their clips back from Rocco as the cleanup crew comes in. I glance at my watch as I slide into the passenger seat of Rocco's Land Rover Defender.

"Shit, it's already after nine, I'm supposed to meet with that new hire this morning," I grumble, buckling my seatbelt as Rocco cranks the key. The V8 engine roars to life, the exhaust popping as he slams on the gas and we lurch forward, speeding away from the airstrip.

"So, cousin," Rocco starts, drumming his fingers on the wheel, his gold wedding band catching the light.

The way ‘cousin' rolls off his tongue, infliction heavy in his tone, tells me he wants something. I pause, wiping the blood from my hands and twisting to face him, cocking an eyebrow.

He clears his throat. "I'd like to take Isabella to Paris for a honeymoon."

"So?"

"So, I'd need time away. I'd like your blessing to leave for a week."

"No."

Rocco's knuckles turn white as his fingers curl tightly around the wheel and he gives me a curt nod. I wait for him to fight back, to argue, but he doesn't. Rocco is loyal to a fault, raised with the same convictions as me, and I know he'd do anything I asked of him. I love my cousin, he's practically my brother- which is why I don't want him to take a week off.

"Take two. Take the jet." I slap my palm on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and a shake. "Enjoy the time with your bride, cousin."

He visibly relaxes as he shifts the SUV into park in the alleyway off Michigan Avenue. "Thanks. I'll make sure my responsibilities are handled and Dallas or Rhodes are at your side."

"I know you will. We'll manage," I say, unclipping my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle. "I'll even look in on your mom while you're gone."

Rocco's lip curls up on one side in a tight-lipped smile as I step out of the SUV and shut the door, heading toward the back entrance of my office building. I know the mention of taking care of his mom means more to him than the time off or the jet. She was in the yard when the car his dad was in exploded. Second and third-degree burns cover most of her body now, and as if that wasn't bad enough, an infection took one of her legs. Zia Lisa gets around okay, but she doesn't like to leave her house unless she needs to. Rocco is always taking her groceries, helping around the house, and keeping her company. She's family, so of course I'll take care of her just as well in his absence.

Trying to avoid any of my employees seeing my blood-stained shirt, I take the service elevator up to the top floor. Cami isn't at her desk when I go into my office, so I shut the frosted glass door and fire off a text, letting her know I'm in for the day.

I pull a crisp, clean, white shirt from the closet and start untucking and unbuttoning my soiled one as I step toward my desk, letting out a sigh as I eye the discarded shirt. There's no way these stains are coming out, not without damaging the fabric. Unclasping my belt, I shrug the clean shirt over my shoulders as I hear the door swing open and two sets of heels clicking against the pewter terrazzo floor.

"And this is Mr. Sorrentino, you'll be report-" Cami stops short, one hand on the door handle, the other flying up to cover her eyes. "I-I am so sorry, Mr. Sorrentino."

"Christ, Cami. Fucking knock first," I growl, snapping my collar as I turn to face her.

Thank fuck my pants weren't down, that'd be an HR nightmare because the new hire is standing in the doorway with flushed cheeks, wringing her hands.

"Noted. Uh, we… we'll wait outside," Cami stammers as she gestures for the wide-eyed blonde to follow her back to the reception area.

I can't help but stare when I see that the black skirt the blonde's wearing not only clings to her curves like a glove, but has a slit that accentuates the slope of her luscious ass. My dick perks up at the thought of my hand wrapped in her hair and that ass in the air as I slam into her bent over my desk. I quickly push that thought away, though. I don't fuck my employees.

Still adjusting my cuffs, I step out to properly greet the new accounting hire. When I'd had them post the position last week, they informed me they'd already had the perfect candidate interview a few weeks prior. She's a recent grad and her internship was at a well-known firm that specialized in audits. On paper she was perfect, and I don't know why, but I just expected someone... meeker.

"Mr. Sorentino," Cami breathes as she jumps up from her seat. "I am so, so sorry."

I'm feeling a bit like an ass for snapping at her. She's Dallas' sister and a sweet girl- naive, but sweet. I nod in her direction as I round the desk. "It's okay. Just see that it doesn't happen again."

Cami relaxes back into her seat, checking her phone.

The blonde pushes up from the couch, extending her hand and offering me a smile that gives me pause. "Wren James, sir."

Her blue eyes sparkle up at me as I finally get a good look at her. "Bowie Sorrentino," I say, clasping my hand around her small one.

I don't make it a habit to objectify my employees, but I must have spaced out because her honey-sweet voice calls to me with an air of familiarity.

"Uhm, can I have my hand back?"

"Of course." I drop her hand and gesture towards my office. "Right this way, Miss James."

She nods, and I swear she sways her hips a bit more prominently as she saunters in front of me.

I stroke my chin, enjoying the view for a second time as I follow behind, pressing the door closed as she takes a seat.