Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

Criminal, if we were being honest.

She was in good company.

Two younger, equally high-class women flanked her, and I knew from a glance at them they were two samples of the product she offered in her stable. The brunette looked vaguely familiar, and I knew it was possible I'd had her before. But my tendency toward brunettes with big lips meant they blended together.

Except for the only one that mattered.

The other, a stunning African American woman, smiled at me demurely.

Like there was any fooling the man who was looking to buy the rights to her pussy. None of us were innocent, and a coy smile couldn't have fooled the devil in that scenario.

"They're pretty," I said, gesturing for the women to take their seats. The brunette stayed standing, but the other two sat gracefully. I took my seat across from them, not even glancing away when my Uncle and Lino sat on either side of me. "How do I know they're any good?"

"Would you like to sample the merchandise?" the madam asked, giving me a humorous smile. "If these two aren't to your liking, I can assure you I have a wide variety. We could arrange an appointment." I considered it momentarily but decided that professionals weren't likely to have what I was looking for.

No one did.

I turned a glance Lino's way, silently asking if he wanted to give either of them a go. He shook his head, surprising me. Lino was normally much less particular about his bed partners than I was, so a freebie with a professional was right up his alley. I knew whatever had happened with Samara that he'd needed me to cover for him, it must have been big. He'd been in love with her for as long as I could remember. His best friend. The daughter of his father's housekeeper. I knew better than to mention her with Uncle Gabriele around. The women we protected were not on the tolerated list of discussion topics, not when Gabriele would threaten them if we so much as hinted at exploring something real with them. The brunette climbed into my lap, perching on my knee as if she belonged there.

I fought the urge to bristle. I didn't enjoy being touched, outside of what was necessary to get off. Cuddling was not my style, and for that reason I never had sex with a woman in a bed of any kind. The last bed I'd had sex in had been in High School, and if I had anything to do with it that would be the last time.

The only time I'd ever made love.

"You don't have to pay me," the brunette whispered. "Like last time. You were so good; I'll give it to you for free again." I turned a cold glare her way, not reacting when she flinched back and nearly fell off my lap.

"I don't do seconds," I hissed, and she nodded meekly, returning to take the seat next to her employer. "I'll send a few of my guys over to your stables tomorrow. They'll pay; I don't like men who expect freebies from the girls they run. If they're impressed, then we can meet again to discuss the possibility of expanding my existing operations."

"Yes, Mr. Bellandi. Thank you for your time." The woman was smart, I gave her that. She stood, extending a hand for me to shake and then the three of them were off.

I stood, nodding to Lino with a look that communicated that we would have a conversation about Samara the next day. "I've arranged a date for you with Luca Morelli's daughter, Elena. You're taking her to dinner tomorrow," my Uncle ordered.

"No, I'm not." There was no inflection in my voice, nothing to betray my annoyance at his constant interference with my love life.

"She's a good match, beautiful, and she knows exactly what we expect of her because her father's in the life. It's time you choose an appropriate match to continue your family line. You need a suc

cessor," he argued, blocking my path when I moved to leave.

"No, I don't. Lino can take over if something happens to me. We've had this discussion before, and I will not marry someone I don't care for just to appease your insecurities about the future of this family. I couldn't have the one I wanted, so now I just won't have anyone at all." With my monotone rant over, I shoved past my Uncle and made my way down the steps to the main club floor. After navigating gyrating bodies, only of the ones too wasted to realize they were standing in the path of a predator, I made my way out the side door and was grateful to find Donatello already waiting. How the man was always exactly where I needed him, I'd never know, but I wouldn't take it for granted either. We slid into my Aston Martin, and I drove through the streets of Chicago on the way back to my manor outside the city.

Three

Ivory

My lungs heaved as I pushed, telling myself just a bit farther. I'd taken my regular route, pushing my speed faster than my usual jog. Something in me had woken up that morning needing to run, needing that feeling of exhaustion that could only come from a too-strenuous workout. I could have hit the gym instead; I was positive Sadie would love the opportunity to beat my ass into fighting shape.

Normally I might have taken her up on it, but the bucket list series for my food blog, A Dash of Sass, had propelled the blog from paying the bills to insanity what seemed like overnight. I didn't have time for a run, but damn if I’d give it up. I needed the blankness that came with a hard run, nothing but the ache in my legs and not enough air in my lungs.

I passed the park on my left, hooking a right onto 111th Street and passing Sadie's gym. Finally giving in, I slowed to a stop, catching my breath with my hands on my knees to rest. After a brief pause, I picked up a walk, pulling my phone out and turning off the music in favor of pressing it to my ear and dialing my mom when I saw she'd called me.

"Hello," her familiar, airy voice answered.

"Hey, it's me," I wheezed.

There was a brief pause, "are you running again?"

"Oh, for the love of God, mom. We've been through this," I argued with a chuckle as I passed another jogger I recognized from my daily runs. He smiled at me, and I returned it. I didn't know the guy's name, but I could tell you at exactly what time in the morning he hit the corner of 111th & South Trumbull. He was cute, all lean and tall with a mop of blond hair on his head and a kind smile.

I'd long since stopped caring how much of a fright I must look when he saw me every day, already two miles into my run by the time we crossed paths. "I just don't think it's safe for a young woman to be out running alone like that. Dad and I can get you a treadmill if it's about the money. We have some saved up."