White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(34)

It’s the truth. I have zero doubt in my mind that Enzo would be the death of us and possibly the entire Casso name, especially since Dom declared that we’re going to war with the Rossettis. Enzo is practically foaming at the mouth to snuff out GTR’s dad just to prove a point.

And that’s exactly when all hell would break loose.

“Fucking hell,” I say again, turning to lean on the sink. I stare at my reflection. It’s the same face I see every fucking day, but now there’s another question I have to answer.

Am I looking at a mobster . . . or at a businessman who needs to cut ties with the family completely while I still can?

Paulie walks over and claps me on the shoulder. “Think about it, Cannon. We’ll support you. Respect you. Follow you. You could take us to a new level. Kick some of the petty shit. I don’t know that I could go legit, but if you wanted to take us in that direction, I’d give it a shot and wouldn’t argue.” His gaze meets mine in the mirror.

“Thanks for that, man.”

“You’ve got a lot to think about. Just know that it’s not only your life on the line here. I’d like to live long enough to retire in Boca like Benny. You’re my only hope of that happening.”

He backs away and returns to the party, leaving me leaning on the counter, collecting my fucked-up thoughts during a rare minute of blessed silence.

At least, the bathroom is largely silent. My mind is the site of a riot.

What the fuck am I going to do?

The door to the bathroom swings open and in walks the last person I want to see right now. Enzo.

I push off the black-and-white-specked countertop and stride to the paper towel dispenser as he turns to the urinal to take a piss.

Deciding I don’t have a fucking thing to say to him, I head for the door. As soon as my hand touches the knob, Enzo breaks the silence.

“I don’t give a fuck what Paulie and Junior want. This family is mine. I’ll kill you before I’ll let you take it from me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Enzo.” I yank the door open and let it slam shut behind me as I stride out—right into Dom.

“Something wrong?” my father asks, and I move out of his way.

“Not a damn thing.”

His dark eyes sharpen on me, and I know he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.

“I’m hearing talk tonight. Lots of talk.”

I shrug and straighten my jacket. “About what?” Playing the fool is a role he expects from me.

“Conversations that shouldn’t be happening on my goddamned birthday. But Monday, you and I are gonna sit down. Talk about the future. I didn’t spend my whole life building something to let other people make my fucking decisions now. Understand me?”

I know he’s waiting for a yes, sir, I understand response, but I’m not giving him that. Not tonight. I don’t care that it’s his fucking birthday.

“Monday it is, then. Excuse me, I need to find my woman.”

Dom’s expression takes on a chilling glare. “Yeah, Drew with the laugh. You better know what the fuck you’re doing with her because she’s a fine piece, and I’d hate for something bad to happen to her.”

Everything drops away but the man in front of me. The room goes silent. Every party attendee disappears. It’s just me and Dom and his vague threat against Memphis hanging in the room. A threat I won’t stand for.

I meet his gaze with no deference in my expression whatsoever. Regardless of what Paulie said, I am my own man when it matters. And I won’t let anyone touch Memphis.

I pitch my voice low but make sure every fucking word comes out clear. “If anything happens to her on your orders, I’ll retire you myself.”

Something sparks in Dom’s gaze, and there’s a chance it’s murderous rage. Or it could be respect. Right now, I don’t fucking care about anything but letting him know that Memphis is off-limits.

“She’s hooked you good.” His hand lands on my shoulder, much the same way Paulie’s did, but Dom squeezes hard to get his point across. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again or you’ll pay the price, son.”





22





Memphis





“A dead one.”

My eyes, the color of which I’ve never seen on another person, are a perfect match for those a retired mob hit man remembers on a woman who died twenty-five years ago.

The revelation sends me reeling.

For my entire life, I’ve wondered how my brown-eyed father could have had a daughter without brown eyes, but I always chalked it up to my mysterious biological mother. The one I’ve never searched for due to my father’s wishes, despite my intense curiosity. But what if . . .

No. That’s impossible. Still, the reporter in me needs more information.

“What . . . what was her name?”

Benny sips his whiskey while he studies my face, looking for answers of his own. “Why do you want to know?”

I shift casually on my seat, not wanting to give too much away, and lift my glass to my lips. “Wouldn’t you want to know if a tall, dark, and handsome man told you’d he’d only seen eyes like yours on one woman?” Flattery might not get me everywhere, but hopefully it will afford me more than I have now, which is only unanswered questions.