Page 36 of Queen of Misfortune (Shadows of Redemption)
“The one from Italy.”
“Lucia?”
“I think that’s her name.” He nervously glances toward the door again.
“Focus, Joe. Anything else? Where is Giovanni hiding?” That was the point of this meeting in the first place.
He shrugs. “He moves around.”
So he’s not that hurt. He’s not hiding to heal. He’s hiding because he knows we’re after him.
“Is he planning anything on Don Abate’s territory?”
“That I don’t know. He wants the girl.”
Why is the question.
"Thanks for the info." I keep my voice level, though inside, I'm anything but calm. The man nods, downs his drink, and then rises, eager to escape. I nod his dismissal, and he disappears into the shadows.
I sit back and try to decipher the information he gave me. It seems like I wasted my time as I haven’t learned anything new except that Giovanni had been hit during the encounter at the warehouse.
But the trip to the club isn’t a total waste. It was worth it to see Lucy looking like a goddess. I look at her at the bar. She’s sitting alone, her posture elegant, yet a wariness hangs on her lovely features.
Her gaze is fixed on the throng of bodies that move to the pulsating beat of music, but it's clear she sees none of them. The air around her is charged with a sadness that tugs at something deep within me.
Why the hell does Giovanni want her now? With Giuseppe dead, maybe he thinks she's vulnerable, an opportunity waiting to be exploited. Or maybe he's threatened by her. It wouldn't surprise me. Despite her icy exterior, there's a fire in Lucy that could put the fiercestcapoto shame. She's got the makings of a Boss.
The thought of her as a Boss makes my lips twitch, as well as my dick. I like the fire in her, the fierceness even when it’s directed at me. But as I watch her, the sorrow in her features dims my amusement. Giuseppe's death… could it be the cause of her sadness? Is she grieving him? Did she care for the old man? Giuseppe was good to her. Could he have been more than just a name on a marriage certificate? It seems so unlikely, considering how she ended up being his wife and the age difference. But what do I know of love and marriage? Zip. Nada. Zilch.
But that isn’t my concern now. Giuseppe is gone. Giovanni is very much alive and has set his sights on Lucy.
She shifts slightly, her arms wrapping around herself, like she’s fortifying herself against the world. Does she feel vulnerable here? Does she know what her father wants from her?
I watch as a man steps up to the bar next to her. He leans over Lucy with a familiarity he hasn't earned.
My jaw tightens. My hands curl into fists.
They talk, his smile clearly conveying that he wants to fuck her. She appears indifferent at first but then says something that appears to make the man think she’s interested. His hand creeps up her thigh, and I see red. But I wait and watch because for all I know, she wants to fuck this man.
Time slows, stretches taut like a wire ready to snap as I watch. Lucy looks down at his hand on her thigh, then, with the grace and fury of an ice queen, she tosses her drink across the man’s shocked face.
That’s my girl.I’m at the bar so fast, my fingers closing around the man's collar, yanking him away from Lucy with a force that sends others at the bar scattering. There’s a collective gasp around us, but no one intervenes. They know who I am. Who I work for.
The stench of his cheap cologne fills my nostrils as I drag him through the parting crowd. He thrashes, curses spilling from his lips. I wonder if he’s a tourist as no one around her who knew me would dare such disrespect.
I tighten my grip. "Got a death wish, pal?" The words come out low and even, every syllable a promise of pain. The desire to kill this man is coursing through my veins. I hope he pushes me so I have a good excuse to carry out his death.
I get him out into the area behind the bar. It’s dimly lit just for situations like this. I push him hard, and his body slams against the building.
"Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to touch what isn’t yours?”
“Fuck off?—”
My fist lands a blow in the center of his face. “If you’re smart, you’ll learn manners and respect. Unless you want to die here.”
“What is your prob?—”
My fist meets his gut. “You’re my problem.”