Chapter 3 3

Leandro

All I had wanted was for them to bring home my jacket. After the artist had spilled her wine all over me, I left it sitting on a cocktail table and had walked out without it. I could have just left it, but it was a Brioni and one of my favorite coats. So I had sent Beanie, Jermaine and Pedro to get it for me, and instead of coming back with the jacket, they came back with an unconscious and beaten woman, a harrowing story of an altercation with one of our rival's men, and no goddamn jacket.

Dios mio, I should have just cut my losses on that one and had them stay home.

Even in her bruised and bloody state, I recognized the unconscious girl as the artist from the gallery whose painting I had bought. She had a nasty gash on her forehead and I could tell by the patterned imprint it came from the butt of a gun. Her dark chocolate hair was matted with dried blood, and the lacy black dress she was wearing had been torn in several places. It was clear what my men had walked in on. Not only did Sudan's foot soldiers intend to kidnap her, they were about to assault her as well. And if my men hadn't gotten there right when they had, they might have succeeded.

I was intrigued by her earlier in the evening, but even more so now that she was lying on my couch, recovering from a mafia hit, and I didn't have the slightest clue who she was or how she got herself tangled up in Sudan's web. The only logical explanation was that she was working with him. It's the only thing that made sense. She had to be one of his women. Maybe that was why he was there tonight. Maybe he had gotten wind of our intentions to use the gallery as a shipping site and wanted to beat us to it. Maybe this girl got in their way, and he intended to make her pay for it with her life.

I rubbed my temples, turning my attention away from the girl lying out on my couch, and toward the fucking three stooges standing in front of me. Part of me was irritated that they intervened, but by the looks of the woman, they had no choice. They looked a little worse for the wear themselves, which meant the fight at the gallery had been a doozy. Beanie had a nice shiner forming underneath his right eye, and Jermaine's lip was swollen and bloody, but they were more unnerved than anything. For the most part, they were okay, and no one had been hit, which was lucky for Sudan. If one of my men had been severely injured, we'd be in a very different position right now-ready to launch an all-out war.

Sudan was the head of the Jordan family, and what he wanted with a tiny gallery in Manhattan was beyond me. He had ruled over the syndicate for years, but he was an adequate leader at best. His group had been no match for our ranks, but he certainly liked to be a constant thorn in my side. Never a genuine threat, but always an annoyance. They were traffickers, the very Scum of the Earth in my line of work, and I had been itching for the right circumstance to eradicate him for the last few months. This would have given me my opening, and I was almost disappointed.

I paced back and forth in front of them, trying to figure out what to do. Their prints would be all over that gallery, not to mention a slug from Jermaine's gun inside a dead body. It wouldn't be traceable, but it still was a risk. Still, the cops were the least of my worries. I had one of Sudan's workers in my bedroom, three more of his dead soldiers currently being disposed of, and there was no doubt he'd be crafting his vengeance. I needed answers. "Someone better start explaining."

Beanie, my second in command, spoke first.

"We went back for the jacket. The front door was unlocked, and we heard a woman screaming. When I got inside, one of Sudan's men was crouching down on top of her, and she was fighting and struggling against him. He ripped her dress nearly off and pistol-whipped her so bad blood was already pooling around her head. I told the bastard to get off of her, but he didn't listen. He recognized us and knew exactly who we were. They would have killed her just to spite us."

My eyes fell back to the woman as he spoke. She didn't look like any sex worker I had ever seen. No old bruises, no ligature marks. Even more surprising, she didn't have the signature feather tattoo all of Sudan's women were forced to get - a brand of sorts. Was it possible he had just hired her? Maybe specifically for this job? I turned my attention back to Beanie, who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. He was steadfast, always my voice of reason, but this had even rocked him.

"He wasn't budging, so I shot him," Jermaine said proudly. He was the newest of the three men in my group, and he was desperate to prove his loyalty. In his mind, killing a member of a rival family would do just that. In my mind, though, the bastard who was attacking her had gotten off easy. If any of mine had put a woman, any woman, in a compromising situation like that, forcing himself on her, I would have locked them in the tombs and tortured them for days. I would have plucked every single tooth out of his mouth and made him swallow them. Burned every inch of his body with my cigar and sliced him up like a fucking bait fish. After that, I would toss him into the run with my dogs. They loved the smell of blood and would devour him in mere seconds. Violence against women was something I didn't tolerate, not from my men and certainly not from my enemies. It wasn't a traditional philosophy, and the complete opposite of the leaders who came before me, but it was how I was running things. Women who worked in my organization were always respected and free to come and go as they pleased. We didn't own them. They were here because they wanted to be.

"And where were you while all of this was going on?" I asked Pedro.

"I was outside in the car. Once I heard all the shooting, I went inside but ran into sleeping beauty on the way." He nodded towards the girl.

Sleeping beauty, she certainly was. The girl hadn't so much as twitched from her slumber since they brought her here. I had even checked to be sure she was breathing. "And then you gave her enough chloroform to knock out an elephant."

"It was the only way I could get her to calm down or to come with us." He jumped on the defensive. "She had just watched us murder a man. We were in her gallery all night. She easily could have identified us all to the police."

He had a point. If they had just let her go, we wouldn't have been able to cover this up, and we'd still be in the dark about why Sudan wanted her to begin with. I folded my arms across my chest in deep thought. "Clean up is in the process?"

"It is. I made sure of it before we left." Beanie said. "We stole a few paintings to make it look like a botched robbery. Left two bodies so they would think a third man got greedy and killed his partners."

It had been his idea to scope out the gallery in the first place as a cover to import our product. We shipped gun parts in by the thousands each week, and it would certainly expedite the process if we could get them into the country and distribute them through a business that already had all their clearances. Art came from all over the world and it would be a cakewalk to smuggle our guns through a line like that. No one would bat an eye. Not that we would be running the product through it now.

I sighed deeply, scratching my jaw. "And do we know how they knew we were going to be there?"

Beanie glanced at Jermaine, hesitating to answer. "I don't think this was about us, Leandro."

Jermaine hadn't even gotten his sentence out before I burst out laughing at his insinuation. "You mean to tell me that two mafia families showing up at the same gallery function on the same night was just one big coincidence?"

I had been doing this long enough to know that there was no such thing as coincidences in my line of work.

"No. We think they were after her." Beanie said.

Of course, they were, but why would they go to so much trouble for this girl? Not only was it irrational, but it was also irresponsible to attack so blatantly for a random girl. Sudan found his women by the dozen, and even if she had run away, he wouldn't have gone to such extravagant means to find her. If it was a real hit, he would have done it himself and it would have occurred much quieter. Sudan was sloppy, but he never would have made the mistake of sending inexperienced runners just to collect a runaway and cause such a scene.

I approached her slowly, trying to process what little information I had. Sudan's men had come after this girl. A faction of the Italian Mafia wanted her. Wanted her badly enough to fight my men to the death for her. Who the hell was she and what had she done to get herself mixed up in all of this?

"What did you say her name was?"

"Tiara," Beanie answered. "Tiara Ross."

With her dark hair and even darker eyes, she was far from Sudan's type. He liked blondes with eyes as blue as the ocean. Most of the girls he kept looked dull and lifeless after having been in Sudan's trap for far too long. Hopeless and tired. Tiara hadn't seemed that way when I met her tonight. She was vivacious and bubbly, albeit a tad bit shy. There was a light in her eyes not yet dimmed by the Mafia world. She was different, she must be special to him. "What does he want with you, Tesoro?" I whispered, crouching down to her level.

Blood was dried in long streaks down her soft pink cheeks, and that cut needed a good cleaning and a few stitches. The ripped lace of her dress left most of her body exposed, and my eyes drifted to the fresh bruises decorating her rib cage as it rose and then fell with each breath. When they first brought her home, her face was frozen in a scowl, but now it was relaxing slightly. She was stunning, even marked by those imbeciles.

I sat down on the couch where her body curved just enough for me to fit. Warmth exuded from her, drawing me in even closer. I began unbuttoning the crisp dress shirt I had changed into, amused with the memory of her being so flustered by me she spilled her wine. Once it was off and I was left in just my undershirt, I ripped the dress the rest of the way and peeled it off of her.

"Leandro, what are you..." My actions obviously confused Beanie. I hadn't said a word to anyone in several minutes, memorized by the girl in front of me. And it wasn't just because she was beautiful. She mystified me. Whatever she was hiding, wherever she came from, I would make it my mission to find out. I didn't like puzzles I couldn't solve, and right now, that was what Tiara was for me.

"I'm putting some clothes on her. She's lying half-naked. Do you have a problem with that?" His insinuation that I would do anything to further violate this woman, no matter who she was, was insulting.

Slipping my arm under her waist, I lifted her towards me. She was lighter than a feather as I laid her against my shoulder. She was still completely knocked out, but hopefully, the chloroform would wear off soon. I wrapped my shirt around her and gently slipped her arms into the sleeves. When I had laid her back down against the cashmere of the couch, I buttoned the front up so her bra and panties were now completely covered. Almost in thanks, her lips parted and a soft moan escaped, and then she was still again.

Beanie brought a wet hand towel over and pressed it to her cheek, softly wiping away the blood and cleaning out her cut. He sucked a breath in sharply. "They did a number on her."

I nodded in agreement. The bastards got what was coming to them. I was proud of my men regardless of what kind of battle with Sudan this would drag us into.

"She'll need stitches." Beanie winced once all the blood was gone. "I'll get her fixed up while she is still out."

He stood and motioned towards Jermaine and Pedro, who followed him out of the room.

"Beanie?" I called after him suddenly.

He turned back to me.

"Find out everything you can about her."