Soulless Devil (Sons of Valentino #3)(3)

“What the fuck.” I storm back into the garage. “Everyone get the fuck out now!” I yell at the gathering crowd. They don’t argue. It takes less than five minutes to clear the garage and empty the lot. When everyone’s gone, I look over to Henry. “You’re going to want to finish that later,” I tell him.

“Sure thing, boss.” He stands, leaving all the money, books, and everything else spread out on the table.

The guy who just signed his death warrant is starting to come to as he groans, trying to pull himself up from the floor. I walk up to the cage and throw the lock on the door. He’s not leaving this garage. Not in one piece at least. Luc walks back inside, pressing the button on the wall, and the doors close. “What’s the plan?” he smiles at me.

“I don’t know. Think we should just hand him over to Pops? Let him deal with the little fucker who threatened his wife? It’s never ended well for anyone who’s tried before.” I laugh, thinking of just how much fun Pops would have ripping the fucker limb from limb. There’s a reason my father is one of the most feared bosses in New York.

“We could, but then we’d have to explain why I was fighting him in the first place,” Luc says.

“Right, and then we’d miss out on all the fun.” Bending down, I pull the knife from the holster strapped around my ankle.

“We’re not doing this here. I don’t feel like cleaning it up. Get him in the trunk.” Luc disengages the cage door and enters. Kicking the guy in the head before he walks around him, he grabs a leg and starts dragging the fucker out.

I open the door and pop the back of Luc’s Escalade open. Pulling out some zip ties, I wrench the fucker’s hands and feet together before I help Luc throw him into the car.

“Usual spot?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

“Let’s go.” I jump into the passenger’s seat. This night is not going how I wanted it to at all. I should be at the library. I should be getting to know Livvy. Not in a car, about to kill some bastard whose name I don’t even know.

That’s my life for you, though. When you’re born a mafia prince, you don’t get to live free and wild. You don’t get to do as you please. From a very young age, we’re trained in the art of war. We’re told not to take threats lightly, to protect the family at all costs. And when someone threatens my mother, you better believe I’ll put that threat to bed real fucking fast.





Chapter Two





I bring the cup to my mouth. Nothing comes out. Damn it, I was enjoying that latte. I wish I knew who sent it over to me. I’d really love to thank them. It’s only a little freaky that whoever it was knew exactly what kind of coffee I drank.

It must have been Sandra, my roommate and best friend. She hates that I’m always studying until the library forces me out when they close. I don’t have the luxuries in life that she does though. I wasn’t born with a trust fund big enough to buy an island. She says it doesn’t make us any different, that my middle-class upbringing is something she envies. I didn’t have a bad childhood. My parents loved each other; they love me and my sister. We had what I guess you’d call the typical American family. My dad was a police officer, my mom a teacher, and I grew up in a picturesque town in Georgia. Everyone in Covington knew everyone. Which is why, when it came time to apply for colleges, I aimed for the ones farthest away.

New York was my dream and now I’m living it. Well, I’m living it from the table. In the library. At college. But when this is all over, when I graduate, that’s when I’m going to become one of the many lawyers who hustle and bustle within the city that never sleeps. I’ve been here just over a year, and I still haven’t ventured far into the city. I work, study, eat, and repeat. I don’t have time for much else. But that’s okay because this is a marathon. Not a race.

I pull my phone out and send Sandra a message.

Me:



Thanks for the coffee. It’s just what I needed.





She texts me back.

Sandra:



What coffee?





I snap a picture of the cup and send it to her.

Me:



Did you send me this?





Sandra:





Nope, wasn’t me. Sorry.





Well shit, if it wasn’t her, who could it be?

I decide to call it a night. The library is due to shut in thirty minutes anyway. I pack all my stuff into my shoulder bag, smile, and wave at Margaret as I pass her at the exit. Then I turn back around. “Ah, Margaret, that coffee you brought me earlier… Do you know who it was from? I’d like to thank them.”

“Some young man. He didn’t leave his name. Sorry, Livvy,” she says.

“Oh, okay, thank you.” Maybe it was one of the guys I tutor. I’ll ask them when I see them throughout the week. I tutor a total of ten people: four girls, six guys. It’s a way to make a little extra money while adding to my college extracurriculars.

I pull my jacket tight around me as I make the short walk to my dorm building. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up while that sensation like I’m being watched washes over me. I’ve had it every night this week, but tonight it’s different. I don’t know what it is, but it’s more of a creepy feeling than before. It’s probably just the mysterious coffee and not knowing who sent it that has me more on edge.