Chapter 1

1

DANTE

“ M ind if I smoke in here?” I bring a lit match to the thin cigar hanging from my lips before I get an answer.

Luke Pryce won’t mind. He’s on the brink of full mental collapse, and the smell of my cherry cigar won’t change it. Plus, it beats the smell of the musky stink wafting through the living room.

“Please do and have a seat.” He waves toward a rusty lawn chair on my right. His offer is a damned insult. It would ruin my suit at best and give me some exotic illness at worst. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“No point. I’m not staying long.” Plumes of smoke leave my mouth with the words.

“May I ask what this is about, Mr…?” Emma Pryce asks. Unlike her husband, she isn’t quivering at the lip or on the verge of pissing herself.

Good. The carpets could do without another excretion of bodily fluids.

“Dante. Leave the Mister,” I say as she steps out from behind the kitchen counter and joins us in the conjoined living room. “I’m not in the habit of wasting time, so I’ll get right to the point. Do you have it, Luke?”

Emma stares at him, and the first sign of worry builds on her face. Narrow eyes, a furrowed brow, and parted lips ready to beg for an answer to her initial question.

“I don’t. I thought I’d be back on my feet by now, but no one wants to hire a cripple,” Luke says, downtrodden.

“What have you done, Luke?” Emma swallows nervously as the concoction of emotions on her face grows more fearful by the second.

“He took money. A lot of money. From men who don’t like to wait,” I answer. Not to appease the building frenzy in her eyes, but I don’t want delays. It’s been a long day of collecting the Don’s debts, and I’m ready for a good, long nap.

“You told me it was settlement money.” She stares at me while she speaks to Luke.

“Their settlement wasn’t enough to cover two months’ rent. I had to do something. Had to provide for my family,” he says meekly.

“And look where that’s landed you.” Venom drips from Emma’s response.

Luke opens his mouth to speak, but before he can utter a sound, I jump in.

“Shut it. Both of you. My patience is running thin, and I won’t be part of your domestic conversations.” I’m not getting angry, but I won’t waste the energy on these two. I make my way toward him before I speak again. “You don’t have the money? Fine. But it leaves me in a terrible place, Luke. How do you think the boss is gonna feel when I tell him you’ve let us down?”

“Bad?” Luke’s eyes widen at every step closer I take.

“Exactly. I gave you a break last week. Understood how hard it is to get back on your feet when you can’t use yours anymore.” I draw a pair of thick leather gloves from my jacket pocket and pull them on. Even if they won’t run to the cops, I’m not about to leave any evidence of being here.

“Wait, please. Don’t hurt him,” Emma screams. “Now that I know, I can?—”

I shut her down. “You can’t do anything. He’d have asked for help if he thought you could.”

Luke’s trembling violently in his seat as I stop inches away from him. His shakes get worse as I grab his wrist and pull his arm into the air, inspecting each finger individually.

“This one will do nicely,” I say, adjusting my hand from Luke’s wrist up to his ring finger.

“What are you doing?” Emma’s voice is a distant whisper.

I don’t bother with a response. Actions speak louder than words, and I’m about to prove it. I grab a pair of needle nose pliers hidden in one of my blazer’s many pockets and bring it to Luke’s finger. It clangs against his copper wedding band with a satisfying ding .

And yet, Luke doesn’t scream. Though, Emma is squealing enough for both of them.

“A finger a week until you’ve paid up. Do you understand?” I apply enough pressure to the pliers for them to pinch his skin. Almost enough to cut through.

“I do,” he says grimly.

I’m impressed by his resilience. He could barely speak moments ago while I was across the room, and the threat of what I’d do lingered in the air. Now, he’s facing up to it with the sort of stoic bravery I couldn’t imagine anyone in his position having. But my half-found respect doesn’t change what I have to do.

As I tighten my grip around the handles, the front door swings open. In a flash, I spin on my heels and draw the pistol hanging in my waistband, training it perfectly where the newcomer would step in.

“I’m home,” a gentle voice comes first, followed by a picture of perfection entering the door.

A single glance at her pure beauty shatters my perception of reality. I’m awe-struck. Glued in place. I can’t lower my gun, but for the first time in ages, I feel like a monster for pointing it at this delicate little thing.

This angel.

“What the fuck?” she bellows, noticing me and my weapon. The grocery bags she cradled like a baby to her hip fall, and their contents spill across the floor. Her deep blue eyes flash with the panic and turmoil of what she stumbled into as she cowers against the wall.

“And who are you?” I tilt my head sideways, drinking in her adorable face, scrunched up in terror. Her long flowing river of golden hair, cascading down her shoulders, reaches a loose point above her mountainous tits in a tight crop top. And the immaculate curvature of her breasts, which narrow at the waist and expand once more into full, voluptuous hips squished into a pair of booty shorts a size too small.

“Baby, it’s going to be okay. Go to your room,” Emma cries out in panic. She’s waving the girl along, trying to get her to run.

“Fuck that. She’s not going anywhere,” I bark. Not after the feverish burn she left on my brow and the painful throb in my groin. “Who are you?” I repeat the question sternly this time, demanding an answer.

“She’s my daughter,” Luke shouts. “Please don’t hurt her. Do whatever you want to me, but let Natalie go.”

His words barely penetrate the thumping pulse in my ears.