Lawless: Mob Boss Book Three (10 page)

L
uca arrived
two days later looking as calm as ever. He didn’t say anything about where he’d been or how he’d gotten to London, but he and Nico immediately went to work talking about Farrell Black and the help they hoped to gain from him. Angel listened, trying to avoid the feeling of doom that seeped into her lungs at the talk of weapons and additional man power. It was all too familiar. Too much like London. Like LA.

Finally, Nico excused himself to take care of business ahead of the meeting with Farrell later that night. Angel needed a dress for Farrell’s club, so Luca agreed to accompany her to Bond Street.

“You’re not going to give me the slip, are you?” he asked as they stepped into a taxi.

She laughed. “Not this time.”

He settled back in the seat. “Glad to hear it. I’m not sure my ego would survive.”

They hit up Selfridges and Vuitton before she settled on a gorgeous slip of a dress at Dolce and Gabbana. The conservative black lace top gave way to a jewel encrusted red skirt that was short enough to be almost scandalous. She picked up a pair of tall black boots with four inch heels at Burberry and called it a day. They stopped for lunch on the way back to the flat, and Angel studied Luca across the table, wondering what was going on behind those blue eyes.

“How have you been?” she asked as she tucked into her food.

He looked suspiciously at her over his shepherds pie. “Fine.”

She put down her fork and leveled her eyes at him.

“What?”

“I consider us friends,” she said. “Do you?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Why did she have the feeling Luca didn’t really consider anybody but Nico a friend?

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you here,” she said. “What went down in Boston was messy, and that’s not even counting the shit show in LA. You’ve been excised from the New York family - ”

“Not my family anymore,” he interrupted.

He meant because of Nico, and she was struck all over again by his unyielding loyalty to the man she loved. “I understand, but it’s still a loss, isn’t it? You once told me the Vitale family was your family. How are you doing without that?”

She wasn’t trying to pry. She just wanted him to know that she was friend. That he could talk if he wanted to do do.

“Nico is the Vitale family,” Luca said. “He’s my brother. I go where he goes.”

She took another bite and studied him across the table. “I guess I just wonder if you get lonely.”

“I don’t,” he said without hesitation.

“Sara - ”

He put his fork down. “Look, I appreciate your concern, Angel. But I’m fine. I’ve been on my own for a long time. It’s best for me that way. Sara’s nice, but I’m not cut out for something long term.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Everybody needs somebody.”

“Not me,” he said. “Now can we please leave this alone? I always thought it would be nice to have a sister, but I didn’t expect her to be so nosy.”

She laughed. “Fine. Just… you know, I’m here if you ever want to talk.”

“Noted.”

“And I hope you won’t close your heart to the idea of loving someone someday.”

“Also noted,” he said through clenched teeth.

Nico was waiting when they got back to the apartment. He didn’t say anything about where he’d been or what he’d been doing, and Angel knew better than to ask. He’d tell her when he was ready. She took a nap while he and Luca strategized their meeting with Farrell.

It was after ten when she started getting ready to go to the club. The dress’s skirt was showy, so she opted for smokey eye makeup and nude lips. She dried her hair until it was straight and silky and was zipping up the boots when Nico walked into the bedroom to get dressed.

“Me-ow,” he said when she stood.

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He crossed the room, his eyes liquid with lust. Sliding his arms around her waist, he cupped her ass, bare under the black thong she’d chosen to go with the dress. The space between her legs turned molten as he pressed her against him, his cock already hard for her.

“How am I supposed to concentrate on Farrell Black when you look like that?” he asked, his voice husky.

She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped her head back to look at him. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He kissed the corner of her mouth so slowly, so seductively, that she felt her panties turn damp. He squeezed her ass. “I’ll be too busy thinking about this.” He slid a hand around to the front of her dress and thumbed her clit over her underwear. “And this.”

“If you don’t stop it, that’s all I’ll be thinking about too.” She stepped away, straightened her dress. “And that can’t be good for business.”

He was still laughing when she left the room.

They called a cab and made their way to Farrell’s club. She was pretty sure she was surrounded by the two best looking men in London, and if the circumstances had been different, she would have felt like the luckiest woman alive. Nico was sharp in a charcoal gray suit over a sweater of the finest cashmere, his sharp features standing in sharp relief under the dark hair combed back from his forehead. Luca was no less handsome in a black suit and metallic gray button down that would have looked cheesy on anyone but him. It brought out the blue in his eyes, and Angel couldn’t help feeling a little hedonistic with two such gorgeous men flanking her.

They made their way to the outskirts of town and stopped outside a rundown building with no markings. Two men flanked a big metal door, their expressions bored, eyes blank. They stepped aside, and she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d come here alone. Had she been considered part of the inner circle by virtue of her position in Boston? Did the men who worked for Farrell Black know the faces of every Boss in the Syndicate? Or did this kind of access require membership of a different sort?

Nico led the way into a small vestibule lined with purple lights. Luca remained close behind her as they made their way down a flight of narrow stairs. Techno drifted from the club below, growing louder as they neared the basement. They emerged into the warehouse-like space of Farrell’s club. It was industrial — concrete floors, exposed pipes, brick walls — made lush by the writhing bodies dancing in the middle of the cavernous room. At the front, Vito Corleone played in the garden with his grandson on a giant movie screen, the sound muted. The light-hearted movements of the actors seemed strangely foreboding against the backdrop of the music.

A bald man with a headset greeted them with a nod and tipped his head at the stairs at the back of the room. Angel thought she remembered him from the last time she’d been here. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nico reached back for her hand. She took it and followed him up the stairs, past several muscled men who watched them with careful eyes. They continued to the end of a utilitarian hallway and a closed door on the left. Two men who could have been clones of the others guarded the door, their legs spread, arms crossed in front of them, semiautomatic weapons holstered at their sides. Danger hung in the air like smoke.

“He’s expecting you,” one of them said, moving aside for them to enter.

Angel didn’t know if it was because Nico had told Farrell they were coming or if word had spread from the guards at the front of the club, but a moment later, she was inside the room with Nico. It was only when she looked back that she realized Luca wasn’t there. Had they stopped him from entering as some kind of precaution against Farrell being outgunned? The possibility sent a trickle of ice water through her veins.

She turned back to look at the man they’d come to meet and had to force herself not to edge toward the door. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to get away from him. It wasn’t just the sheer size of him — at least a couple of inches taller than Nico’s already impressive height. It was something raw and cold that seemed to surround him like a layer of age-old ice.

Angel had gotten used to being around fearsome men. Despite Nico’s love for her, she didn’t delude herself into thinking he was anything but what he was; a criminal, and a violent one when the situation called for it. But where there had always been humanity in Nico’s eyes — violence, yes, but also humanity — Farrell Black’s eyes were as still and empty as a glacial lake.

Tattoos snaked up his chest from the dark blue shirt that barely seemed able to contain him, and the scar above his eye seemed more deeply etched than it had been a year ago. He regarded them with calm interest, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The silence stretched thin in the room.

Finally, he spoke, his eyes settling on Angel. “Well Vitale, what kind of cluster-fuck has this girl gotten you into now?”

“
L
eave her out of it
,” Nico said, forcing his voice calm.

Farrell sat down with a smirk. What a dick. “You’re the one who brought her.”

“I protect what’s mine,” Nico said. “I think you know a little something about that.”

A shadow crossed Farrell’s normally placid features. It was all Nico needed to say.

“I thought you were dead,” Farrell said, clipping the end off a cigar.

“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Nico said.

“So I see.” He lit the cigar, took a puff, exhaled the earthy smoke into the already smoky room. “And from what I hear, up until a week ago I could have turned a pretty penny by handing Raneiro your head.”

“That’s true,” Nico said, pacing the room, picking up objects and setting them down. “But as I’m sure you’ve heard, I’ve been given a reprieve of sorts.”

Farrell leaned back in his chair. “I did hear. Raneiro must be sending you on some kind of errand.”

“You could say that,” Nico said.

He wandered back to the chairs in front of Farrell’s desk and gestured for Angel to sit. If Farrell wouldn’t be a gentlemen, Nico would do it for him. No one was going to make his woman stand while they conducted business.

She sat, and Nico followed suit, taking the seat next to her. Farrell’s surveyed them behind a steely gaze.

“What can I do for you that Raneiro can’t?” Farrell asked.

“I need weapons,” Nico said. “And surveillance equipment.”

“Sounds right up Raneiro’s alley.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather be discreet about our movements, and I can’t move anything into place without giving them away,” Nico said.

Farrell lifted an eyebrow. “And you don’t mind telling me?”

Nico shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but at this point, I trust you more than I trust Raneiro.”

“That might be a mistake,” Farrell said.

“It might,” Nico agreed. “But there’s no help for it.”

“You’re going to take your chances then?” Farrell asked.

Nico nodded. “I am.”

Farrell puffed on the cigar. The bastard enjoyed setting him on edge, making him wait. And he was right; it was a risk. Telling anyone about their plans was a risk. But he had to assume Raneiro would have killed him in Rome if he’d wanted to do so. He obviously wanted the Darknet file badly enough to give Nico the space to procure it. There were no guarantees after that, and keeping some of his movements secret would give him a better chance of getting Angel out of alive when all was said and done.

One step at a time.

“Do you have a list of things you need?” Farrell finally asked him.

Nico pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the metal desk. “We have a logistical problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I need this stuff in Dublin, and I need to get it there without being detected by law enforcement.”

“You know I don’t work for free,” Farrell said.

“I do.”

“How soon?”

“A week,” Nico said. “Ten days at the outside.”

Farrell studied the list. “I’ll do it for a million, wired to my private account.” Something that might have passed for a smile touched his lips. “Up front, of course, since your outcome is so… uncertain.”

Nico wanted to throttle the bastard. He knew the odds of making it out alive weren’t good. Angel probably did, too. But he hated Farrell for saying it out loud in front of her.

“I’ll wire it tomorrow,” Nico said. “And I’ll get you an address as soon as I have one.”

Farrell stood. “Good.”

They didn’t shake hands. Nico waited while Angel stood and then covered her back on the way to the door.

“Was she worth it?”

The question came from behind him. He turned around.

“Yes.” It came out more vehemently than he intended. He drew a breath, forced himself to remain calm while he looked at Farrell. “But I guess you’d know all about that, too.”

“
W
hat did you mean
?” Angel asked Nico while she packed her things for Dublin the next morning. “About Farrell protecting what’s his and knowing whether it was worth it?”

Nico placed a stack of shirts in his duffel bag. “Farrell had someone once,” he said. “He asked me to help her, and I did.”

It was difficult to imagine a man as hard as Farrell Black loving someone that much. But watching Nico, thinking about her own unlikely and immeasurable love for him, Angel guessed no one was immune. They were on their way out of the flat with Luca when a guy in a suit stopped Nico on the street.

“Nico Vitale?”

Nico’s hand went immediately to his side, although Angel knew he didn’t have a weapon. It was instinct, and he turned his body to cover hers while he faced the guy.

“Who wants to know?”

“This is from Desmond McDermott,” the guy said, thrusting an envelope at Nico.

Nico took it, and the guy disappeared into the foot traffic moving down the sidewalk.

“What is it?” Angel asked as Nico tore open the envelope.

He unfolded a piece of paper and studied it. “Looks like a bunch of locations and dates.”

“Do they mean anything to you?” Luca asked.

Nico shook his head and folded the piece of paper back into the envelope, then stuffed it in his pocket. “Not right now. Let’s go.”

They got into the cab and made their way to Heathrow. Angel didn’t think about the piece of paper again until they were through security and sitting at the gate, waiting to board the plane.

“We’ve got awhile yet,” Nico said. “I’m going to grab a coffee. Can I get you something?”

Luca put in his headphones. “I’m good.”

“I’ll take a coffee,” Angel said, pulling the tablet out of her bag. “And let me take a look at that piece of paper. I’ll do some digging while I wait.”

He took the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her, then kissed her head. “Be right back.”

She signed into the airport’s WIFI and started typing in the locations and dates on the piece of paper. A lot of the places were in the US — Ramona, California, Saddle Brook, New Jersey, Chicago, Illinios — but there was one in the UK (Rochester) and one in Russia (Pskov Region), too. At first they seemed random, but by the time Nico returned carrying two styrofoam cups, the excitement of discovery was buzzing in her mind.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her one of the coffees. “Where’s Luca?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her eyes still on the screen. “This is interesting…”

“What?” He leaned in.

“These are the dates and locations of major illegal weapons busts,” she said, scrolling, her mind trying to formulate the connection she knew was there. “All destined for either everyday criminals or revolutionary warlords.”

He took the tablet and looked through the results, a line creasing his forehead.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“Think about it,” he said. “Raneiro wants us to get a file called Darknet, which can only be some kind of reference to the online black markets of the same name, then Desmond McDermott gives us a list of illegal weapons busts?”

She sat back in her chair, dread seeping like an oil slick through her veins. “All those rumors about Sean Murdock being involved in illegal drug distribution and weapons…”

He rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “Sean’s in the illegal weapons business, and Raneiro wants to take control of it by accessing Sean’s client or supply list.”

“And he’s going to use us to do it.” Angel shook her head. She didn’t dare think about the consequences. “If we’re right - ”

“We’ll be handing control of a deadly illegal weapons channel to one of the most dangerous men in the world.”