2. Ezra

Chapter two

Ezra

Twelve Hours Before The Kidnapping

The chessboard in front of me usually offers some sense of peace, a way to lose myself in strategy and outmaneuvering an opponent. Today, I’m playing alone.

The black king is on the brink of defeat, and the pieces on the board feel like a reflection of the pressure building inside me.

“Elio,” I call out, not bothering to bring the cigar away from my lips. I know he’s there, my right-hand man, waiting somewhere outside. “Have you found out why that bastard was at Club Serenita the other night?”

Dark hair, tan skin, and dark eyes come into view. He's in a black suit as usual, arms folded behind him and legs a few feet apart in a sturdy stance, just how I like my men. Suited up and ready for action.

Elio hesitates, just for a moment, the brief glint in his eyes giving him away, but I catch it. “Our men are still working on it, Boss.”

I hate to hear that. Elio knows that. It’s the easiest way to set my mood on fire. The easiest way to incur my wrath.

I slam my fist against the wooden table, my anger rising. “Still working on it?”

He straightens himself and stiffens his posture but doesn’t repeat it.

“You’re telling me a high profile drug dealer broke out of prison, appears at my club, and you don’t know why?!”

“ Stiamo ancora cercando di rintracciarlo (We’re still trying to trace him),” he responds, quickly adding, “…our other sources say they have no idea why Russo would be at the club.”

I feel a surge of blood rush through my hand and, instinctively, I fling it against a chess piece.

Russo shouldn’t have been anywhere near my club. He’s a lone drug dealer known to be unstable with cartels, dealing with anyone for the price attached to it rather than for strategy and relationships. He’s a lone wolf, and I never do business with lone wolves because they have nothing to lose. I don’t play the game like he does.

Readjusting myself in my leather chair, I bring down the cigar from my lips before releasing air through my nostrils. I clench my fist when a tinge of it circulates roughly through my brain.

The bastard is known worldwide for his drug dealing. The fact that he was at my club alone raises questions, even for me. A smart man like Russo should know that your first stop shouldn’t be a club when you break out of prison. That’s too public.

To make matters worse, someone took a photo of him at the club. My informant in the media called and informed me.

If that photo gets out, everything I’ve worked so hard to build—my reputation as an upstanding businessman—will be in jeopardy. I stand the risk of being questioned. Worse, the media will probe into my business and may sniff out something.

Despite the number of officials I have on my payroll, none of them would be able to do a fucking thing.

For years, I’ve succeeded in being on the positive side of the media, but now… I inhale another drag of smoke, then hit the tip against the ashtray to kill the fire. As much as I hate to admit it, I was caught unawares. That rarely happens.

That’s why I went ahead with the hospital fundraiser at my hotel. It was to keep the public focused on the good. To make sure they see the image I’ve worked so hard to create. To everyone outside the mafia world, I’m a businessman, a charming philanthropist who never runs out of women.

I don’t keep women for long. I barely even remember their names after they’ve been coerced into my bed. But surprisingly, her name has been stuck in my head since that night.

Brown eyes, dark hair, and a curvaceous body, that woman was different from any I’d ever tasted. Raven Nightshade was one of a kind. Perhaps it was her blush or the warmth of her pussy; whatever it was, I know it’ll take at least four women to wipe that name from my head.

Warding off the unnecessary thought, I return my focus to Elio. As if on cue, he continues.

“I’ve been checking if the guards at the club know anything about it. All my research shows they don’t,” he clears his throat, stifling his nose slightly at the smoke I exhale. “The CCTV caught Russo inside the club but not entering. My best guess is camouflage.”

“Of course...” I ball my hand into a fist, rising to my feet, “…he surfaces out of nowhere with a camouflage.”

All for what? To bring my hard work to ruins?

A dry laugh escapes my lips at the thought when I reach my window. The sight of my endless expanse of yard greets me, men echoing orders and a fleet of cars gracing the landscape. The sight of twenty-five years of hard work.

I'm not labeled the largest mafia operation on the east coast for no reason. My cartel, the Marino, is built upon a solid basis of loyalty, trust, and ruthlessness. It’s been so since Father handed it over to me at twenty-one. And I don't intend for that to change.

“Check all fucking CCTVs.” I don't take my eyes off my yard. “The ones leading into the streets, the ones on the streets, and the ones around our other establishments.”

The last thing I want is a surprise exposé on another of my establishments.

“I’ll make sure it’s handled, Boss.” He nods, bringing both hands to his front.

“You’d better,” I frown, glancing at a corner where a plethora of white vans are parked. They're delivery vans. A surge of pride displaces any other feeling. Methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin, Indian hemp… name it. Every fucking drug on this earth, I’ve manufactured and distributed. I've supplied quality with minimal disruptions from both cops and rival cartels.

Being the mastermind behind every smooth operation brings me satisfaction. Getting to this point was a combination of risk and tenacity.… but never luck.

In my world, luck doesn't exist. Suddenly my mood changes, and every feeling vanishes, leaving in its place a familiar emptiness. If it did, I wouldn't have suffered the greatest tragedy of my life fifteen years ago. I wouldn’t have to deal with occasional nightmares from a battle I was forced to fight.

The sound of a phone ringing distracts me from my thoughts. I turn my back but Elio is already fishing out his phone from his pocket. He bows slightly to me and then walks out to receive his call.

I turn back, but before I can relive good memories, he comes back inside. I immediately sense that something is wrong. His demeanor is fiercer, eyes holding unspoken trouble.

“There’s something else, Boss.”

Bringing my hands into my pockets, I deadpan, “ Che cos'è (What)?”

“Our shipment’s been intercepted,” one of my men just announced on the other end.

My temper flares. I grab the phone from Elio. It takes great restraint not to slam it into the desk. “Intercepted?! How the fuck did this happen?”

“ Non siamo ancora sicuri (We are not sure yet), Boss. We are trying to understand it and to track them down,” the man replies.

How much more shit do I have to put up with today?

“Get on it! Do whatever the fuck it takes to find out who did this and get our shipment back. I’m on my way.”

I hang up. First Russo, and now our shipment’s been intercepted because of some fucking perpetrator. These people keep testing me.

“Ready the car. We’re going now!”

Elio springs into action, heading for my car as I storm out behind him.

This day is falling apart, and I have to fix it. In quick strides, I make it to the black SUV.

I ignore the guards that open the car door for me as I settle in. Elio revs the engine and speeds through the streets. Whoever is behind this should know better than to mess with us.

Forty minutes spent flitting, and finally, we arrive at the scene. I don’t like the sight I’m greeted with when I reach the ship.

Broken vessels and scattered crates litter the place. The floor relinquishes a creaking sound as I step in between bullets, taking in the jarred and peeled walls until I see my men.

Fuck .

Alejandro, Rico, and Vitto—three of my closest men—are sprawled on the ground, their lifeless bodies smeared with blood. There's too much blood for a shipment that should have arrived in Colombia seven hours ago.

I scan the area, my fists tightening. Someone is messing with me. Then I spot him—a man I don’t recognize—trying to flee.

Instantly, I pull out my gun and squeeze the trigger aimed at his leg. The shot echoes as the man hunches over in pain. I’m satisfied when I see blood trickle from his leg, but he doesn’t stop limping away.

Elio is already on the move, chasing the man down and dragging him back by his shirt. I clench my teeth when Elio forces him to kneel right in front of me. The fear in the man’s eyes is undeniable; he is exactly who I’m looking for. I know he’s the one behind this.

“Who gave you the information about the shipment?” I demand, my voice filled with rage.

An intercepted shipment means leaked information. This fucker knew the date and time, that’s why he was able to intercept it.

The man trembles, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Please, I…I don’t know anything.”

I have no patience. My fist collides with his jaw. A satisfying crack fills my ear. I smile and meet his face with another blow. Again and again. “Tell me who! Now!”

Tears mix with the blood on his face. “I- it was a woman. Raven Nightshade. She gave us all the details.”

What? Raven? Raven Nightshade?

Shock courses through me like a chilling surge of electricity. The same Raven I’d had a one-night stand with. The one who occupied my mind for longer than necessary after our encounter.

I stare at the man, struggling to make sense of what he’d just said. “Raven Nightshade? Are you telling me she’s behind this?”

The man nods weakly. “Yes. She knew where and when the shipment would be.”

It’s hard to believe. Raven? I haven’t seen her since that night. Why would she be involved in something like this? I try to put the pieces together and end up with even more confusion.

“What should we do with him, Boss?” Elio asks, referring to the injured man.

We need more information from him. I need the bastard alive for as long as possible. At least I’ll get the pleasure of finishing him off myself when he becomes useless to me.

But before I can give Elio the order to take him with us, the man swiftly reaches for a nearby shrapnel and slices his neck once. He drops to the ground with a thud.

Shit .

I glance from his dead body to the wreckage scattered across the seaport. My mood is darker than it has ever been. All of this because of her—Raven. If this is true, then she’s managed to deceive me. Something that hasn’t happened in years.

In this ruthless world of mine, where trust is a luxury I can’t afford, I’ve learned that appearances can be deceiving. Raven had seemed so innocent, so alluring, so… tempting.

“Elio.” My eyes blaze with fury as I step closer to him. “I want you to find Raven Nightshade. And I want you to find her now.”