Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

Bosley

Today had been a bust so far. I'd decided to spend a day or two watching each of Nico's Capos. These two were supposed to be amongst his most trusted men. They each had a territory and soldiers under them to direct. They were the ones who reported to Nico what was going on within his boundaries and with the people under him.

This one, Elio Conte, was a complete waste of space. He hadn't done anything wrong, per se, but he hadn't accomplished anything either. He'd taken a couple of his soldiers out for dinner and drinks, then he and his bodyguard had made their way to another bar. An establishment that wasn't in their territory. I'd been more curious about that, hoping to see something useful, or at least halfway interesting, but they'd only gotten more loaded.

What would Cory say? They were zozzeled. I chuckled softly to myself. That quirky boy.

Conte's bodyguard ended up so inebriated that he'd put him in an Uber and sent him on his way. The dipshit didn't leave once his protection was gone but walked back into Buccelli territory without even realizing I was following him. What an idiot. I'd spent the last half-hour sitting outside a dive bar waiting for him to come out. I'd be tempted to stab myself in the eye if this guy ended up being into public displays of affection. No one needed to see that—ever.

The worst part about this lack of action was that my mind kept circling back to Cory. Perfect Cory. Quirky Cory. The man who occupied all of my thoughts. It wasn't ideal. This was so far from good that I'd call it disaster. I didn't get involved in relationships. I didn't crush on men. I fucked hard, quickly forgetting names and faces afterword when I went on to my next assignment.

When I needed a break to keep from losing myself, I headed to a formalized Daddy-boy weekend to save myself from entanglements. It was the only opportunity I gave myself to be soft and tender with another human. In that structured environment, that was fine because it had a beginning, middle, and end. This thing with Cory was already more complicated than that.

If he hadn't told me last night that the security I arranged for him was only welcome as long as I was there to supervise, I'd have packed up my duffel bag this morning and made a run for it. I slept in the guy's bed, for fuck' sake. What had I been thinking? I knew, though. I'd wanted to keep him safe, make sure that he had a full night's sleep. I hadn't expected to follow him into dreamland where he smiled sweetly and begged for me as his Daddy. What was even more surprising than that I'd dreamed, was they'd all been about Cory.

In sleep, he'd been my boy, and I'd been his Daddy. We shared the belfry like it was ours. My stuff had been scattered around the room like it belonged there. This wasn't who I was. This wasn't what I did. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. He'd had enough pain in his life, so the least I could do was spare him the consequences of getting entangled with the likes of me. I wasn't thrilled by the notion that my own heart might not go unscathed when it was time for me to pack up and leave Takoda.

Conte finally made his way out of the bar, and I zeroed in, paying more attention. He was around my age, but he obviously didn't hit the gym like I did. In fact, I was surprised the man had walked as much tonight as he had. He didn't look like he'd exercised or taken care of himself in years. After all they did for their men, he owed the Buccelli's. But what I'd witnessed so far was lackluster. He was a disgrace, without common sense or honor. Even now, he was out without his bodyguard, not looking like he had the chops to fight his way out of a wet paper bag.

I remembered this guy from twenty years ago. He wasn't anything more than a foot soldier back then, but he'd been sturdy and fit. He'd had those beady rat eyes that reflected violence and made him a great enforcer. Where had that man gone? How had Nico's grandfather allowed someone who'd fallen so far to become such an important member of his organization?

Tailing him was disgustingly easy. With my headlights out, I rolled slowly down the street, growing more annoyed with each passing moment at his stumbling lack of awareness. I wanted to punch him in the face just to sober him up. He paid little attention to the people he passed on the street. In this part of town, mostly those up to no good, druggies, and sex workers. They gave him a wide enough berth that I knew they knew who he was. Which meant that they were also aware that the Buccellis preferred paid escorts and discretion, not prostitutes with pimps on their streets.

See, the hookers weren't the problem. It was the men and women who thought they had a right to use and abuse other people. Control and manipulate them for their own gain. The Buccelli organization had always been run by a strict code, and I didn't like how many lines were being crossed and rules broken. Back when my uncle was the lead enforcer, heads would've rolled if the pimps had dared to peddle their goods in these streets.

Conte tripped over a crack in the sidewalk—or thin air, for all I knew—and fell into a bleached blonde I'd noticed hanging around this same alley the other day. There were usually several of them around, all women, all bleached blonde, all practically naked, but from there, they varied. From short to tall, a pancake ass to bootylicious, nothing more than nips to tits that could give a person a black eye.

The poor girl threw her arms out to the side and jumped back the best she could in her five-inch death traps, then side-stepped him. I expected Conte to continue on his drunken way, so it surprised me when he grabbed her arm. His face was turned away from me so I couldn't see his expression, but her face was within my line of vision, so I watched closely.

I wished I was closer so I could hear what he was saying. Was he warning her to get out of here? Leave the alley? If so, he was drunker than I thought. Even I'd gotten a look at her pimp before. The blondies, as I'd dubbed them in my mind, went where they were told. If Conte wanted to move them along, he'd need to speak with the big hulking dude who slipped out of the shadows to take their money.

Her face went from startled to mildly annoyed to fearful. What was that about? Conte shook her like a ragdoll, and she started batting at his hands, tugging on his wrists, trying to get him off. I waited a second to see if that pimp who hovered in the shadows would emerge, but he didn't. Growing annoyed, I grabbed my knife from my glove box, eased out of my car, and shut the door softly, ready to get involved if this kept going in the direction I thought it was. I didn't know what this fucker was thinking, but it didn't look good.

Did a lot of these men cheat on their spouses? Hell yeah. Some just played when they were out with the boys, others had sidepieces or mistresses they supported, and like the story Cory had told me, some had complete families stashed away. I'd heard stories of abuse and witnessed the bruises with my own eyes.

But not this. The reason my uncle had been so devoted to this Family was because they'd been obsessed with money and power, like all of them were, but they operated within the bounds of human decency. No drugs. No selling of other human beings. Basically, do no harm unless it affected the Family, your own family, or your own person.

I moved closer, and the blonde's whimpered pleading elevated to cries of, "No! No! No!" as Conte dragged her past the mouth of the alleyway, away from the beam of the streetlight. Yeah, fuck no. This wasn't happening.

He punched her in the face, throwing her off balance, then shoved her down and kicked her in the stomach. "Shut up, bitch. This is what whores like you do, isn't it?" His hands went to the fastening of his pants, and I hesitated behind him, wanting to hear what else he had to say. "That fucker you work for doesn't pay me enough to keep looking the other way. My Boss would have my nuts if he knew about our deal. So you're going to offer me some incentive."

She whimpered. "Please, no."

"Surely your little friends told you the deal." He shoved his pants down his thighs, leaving his white hairy ass on full display. "You girls give me what I want, or else that scumbag will be down a girl."

This mother fucker just threatened to kill her? Seriously? I was done. As he went to throw himself on top of her, I restrained him from behind, pulling him in tight to my body. I'd have to burn these pants now that his hairy ass touched them. "Down a girl, huh? Such a big man. Let's see how you do with me," I whispered into his ear. The girl didn't get up, but she scooted back, cowering in a ball.

"The fuck?!" He twisted and curled his shoulders, trying to get away from me, but all this drunk fucker had for leverage was his bulk, and it didn't compare to my muscle or the fact that I was stone-cold sober and pissed as hell. "Get the fuck off me. Do you know who I am? How much trouble you'll be in for touching me?"

"Yeah, Conte. I know exactly who you are." I waited a beat, enough for that to settle in. For him to know that his name didn't mean shit to me. As far as I was concerned, he wasn't shit. He stiffened, and I chuckled, low and menacing. Then I brought my trusty karambit up at an angle and slit his throat, dropping him like the trash he was. Used and forgotten.

"Are you going to hurt me, too?" she asked in a trembling voice. Black mascara tracked down her cheeks from her tears.

"No, sweetheart. I'm not." Holding up my hands, I stepped closer. "Are you okay?"

She swiped at her face with one hand, and a fresh batch of moisture filled her eyes. "I didn't do anything. He…he wasn't paying for that."

Rage filled me. Did her piece of shit pimp let scumbags pay him to knock her around? "Where's that guy you work for?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. He'll be back soon, though. He's never gone for long."

I bet he wasn't. Asshole. "Can I come closer?" She hesitated, then nodded, and I knelt on one knee next to her. "Let me see your face." I tilted it from side to side. "You're going to have a nasty black eye."

She sniffled. "I know. I'm going to be in so much trouble."

Fuck me. "Do you have anywhere to go? Someone to take you in?"

She shook her head again. She was young. Maybe twenty. Just a baby. My chest tightened at the thought of leaving her here. Dammit . This was Cory's fault. I'd played my part. I'd killed the bad guy. What she did from here was supposed to be up to her. And yet… "I have a hotel room over at The Gin Mill. Have you heard of it?"

If possible, she paled further, and I held up my hands in surrender. "I'm not suggesting what you're thinking. I'll give you some money so you can go rest somewhere, but…" I glanced down, deeper into the alleyway, and she shook her head.

"Tad won't let me keep it. It's his for protecting us." Protecting them, huh? He did a fine job of that tonight. "He gives us an allowance."

I bit back a growl to keep from scaring her any more than she already was. I'd be visiting Tad real soon. After I spoke with Nico and figured out what to do with the blondies. "That's what I thought. If you come with me, you can stay in my room, shower, and I'll have food sent up to you. Then you can rest for a night."

She lifted higher and looked around me. "What about him?"

I didn't spare him a glance. "I'll have someone take care of that. What do you say? You want to get off these streets for a night?"

"Tad won't like that."

"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of him." If he got lucky, I'd let him leave town, but—nah. It was time for him to pay the piper, too.

A few tears escaped her eyes, and she brushed them away like she was frustrated at showing a man she didn't know—a killer—her weakness. "Do you promise…" She trailed off.

"No harm will come to you under my care. I promise."

She nodded, so I stood and held my hand out to help her up. I wrapped an arm around her as we passed the trash so she wouldn't have to look at it and then helped her into my car. Once she was secured in the passenger seat, I opened the trunk and called Nico.

"You got a mess to clean up." I gave him the specific location.

He cursed into the phone. "What did you do?"

Wiping the blood off my sweet girl, I huffed. "Handled your business." I hung up and got into the car, where I found a text message from Cory.

Unknown Number: Hey. I didn't know how late you'll be, but I'm still up. If you want to come by. Or call. Whatever.

Unknown Number: It's Cory. Sorry. Should have said that first.

Unknown Number: Not that I expect you to. But if you want.

Unknown Number: There wasn't any trouble at the hotel today.

I already knew that since Dante was checking in with me every hour, on the hour, as of today. I took Cory wanting me to supervise this whole thing seriously. Luckily, Dante hadn't taken any offense.

"Hey, sweetheart," I said to the girl. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Whatever you want it to be," she said immediately. I raised an eyebrow, and she huffed. "Charity."

I smiled. "That's better. You look like a Charity." Looking back at my phone, I pushed on the contact for the unknown number and pushed the phone icon.

Cory picked it right up. "Hello. Bosley?"

"Hey, quirky Cory. I need a favor."

I didn't know what he heard in the tone of my voice, but he snapped right to business. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"I ran across a young lady who needs a little help. I thought maybe I'd put her up in my room. Order her some food. Do you have another room available or a couch I can crash on?"

"Is she okay? Wait. No. I'll see her when she gets here. You can stay in my room." He paused. "I mean, if you want."

"Yeah. That's exactly what I want," I said, meaning it. I hadn't even realized that was what I wanted him to say until he'd said it. Wasn't that why I'd offered Charity my own room instead of offering to get her another one? Hell, I could've hit up a drive-thru and dropped her at a motel. "I'll see you in a bit."

Charity curled into the corner of the seat and stared out the window. Every now and then, she peered at me suspiciously, but who could blame her? If I hadn't been there, Conte would've raped her. Now she was in a car with the man who'd slit his throat in front of her. She either had no self-preservation skills, or her life sucked so bad that she didn't care.

I pulled into the parking lot to the spot I'd dubbed mine in my head. For whatever reason, the parking lot attendants had picked up on it, so the space was always open. Charity wasn't really dressed to stroll through the hotel lobby, but before I'd worked out a solution, Cory appeared with a large blanket in his arms.

"Hey," I said, getting out of the car.

"I didn't know what you meant by saying she needed help. I thought she might not be in condition?—"

Pressing my lips to his, I shut him up. Could this man be any more perfect? Fuck . I was in so much trouble with this one.