Page 19 of Devious Roses

I wrench the door open and find Omar in the hall with his gun out.

“Psycho, it’s somebody I don’t recognize! He was trying to make his way up.”

Interesting. I have a special visitor.

I rush forward despite Omar’s protests. More bullets whip through the air as I make it to the staircase.

Though it’s only been a minute, I’m arriving on the tail end of the commotion. I reach the bottom stair to find a haze of smoke and bodies on the floor.

Some alive. Others injured. The last two dead.

Fabio wipes sweat off his brow and nods his head toward the guy lying on the ground wearing a mask, bleeding out from a bullet hole in his chest.

“It was thisstronzo,” he says. “He came in and tried to head up to VIP. We think to see you.”

“Unmask him. How’d he get in?”

“That, we’re unsure of.”

I grit my teeth. “We’re supposed to have eyes on everybody who walks in here. Did he come in with Giancola or Kozlov?”

“Nah, their guys were as surprised as us.”

Fabio kneels beside the dead asshole and rips off his ski mask. I turn my head upside down trying to see him right side up, picking apart his features, trying to figure out if I’ve ever seen him anywhere.

But nothing sticks.

I’ve never seen this guy a day in my life.

“Recognize him?” Fabio asks.

“No. But I know what this means,” I say, looking up and casting the club floor a scrutinizing glance. “This confirms what I’ve suspected. Somebody’s trying to send me a message.”

6

salvatore

“Salvatore!”Delphine shouts, pushing her way through the commotion.

The cops swarm the place. Not something I wanted, but considering there was a shooting in the middle of the city’s biggest nightclub and innocent civilians were injured, they responded to the scene.

I’m standing with Fabio and some of my other guys when Delphine comes rushing over. She’s dressed in her house clothes—yoga pants and a slouchy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her curls peek out from the thick headband she wears, shaped like a pineapple.

She should’ve been naked in my bed by now. Yet here we are.

Just another reminder of how fucked up this evening is. A fresh wave of anger singes through me.

I square my jaw and direct a glare at Stitches, who follows a step behind her. That’s all it takes to get an answer out of him. Wire-framed glasses low on his nose and breath coming out of him in huffs, Stitches attempts to explain.

“I tried!” he pants. “I really did try to stop her.”

“Not hard enough. This is the last place she should be right now.”

“Have you tried controlling your wife?” he asks, nudging his glasses. “She’s a very stubborn woman who loves you very much. The second she heard you were in danger, she was coming. Whether or not I drove her here. I figured at least if I’m chaperoning, I can provide cover.”

That’s true. She’s aggravatingly stubborn at times. Yet I love that fierceness about her.

I turn my angry glare on Delphine. “C’mere, Phi.”