Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

She told me her address again.

“I remember, don’t worry.”

She ran her fingertips along the black leather of her seat. “Are you from a rich family?”

I was, but that wasn’t why I had the car and everything else. “No,” I told her.

She fell silent. She was brimming with more questions. It was written all over her face.

When I pulled up in front of the apartment complex, the door on the second floor opened. And I immediately recognized the man – moderately tall, half bald, pouch drooping over his belt, all over pathetic – as one of the gambling addicts who frequented one of our casinos. I hadn’t handled him yet. He wasn’t important enough, and had never owed us enough money to warrant my attention. Soto had dealt with him once. He took care of the low scum. After that one time, he’d always been on time with his rates. He was a looser who always chased the next dollar to spend it on gambling.

“That’s my dad,” Leona said. There was a hint of tenderness in her voice. Tenderness that he sure as hell didn’t deserve. “Thanks for the ride.”

Her father was heading down the walkway toward us, then he froze when he recognized me behind the steering wheel. I followed when Leona got out.

“Leona!” he croaked. His eyes did a quick scan of her body. “Are you okay? Did he…?” he cleared his throat at the look I gave him. I hadn’t expected that kind of worry from him. From what I’d seen of him so far, he only gave a fuck about himself. People like him always did. That’s why I enjoyed dealing with them.

Leona blinked. “What’s going on? I’m fine. Why are you acting so strange?”

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

I strode over to them. Immediately the smell of cheap spirit wafted into my nose. Gambling and alcohol were a thunderous combination. One that eventually led to an early grave. Either by the Camorra, or by Mother Nature.

She nodded, then gestured toward me. “Fabiano was nice enough to drive me home.”

I was many things, but nice wasn’t one of them. Her father looked like he was going to blow a gasket. “Haven’t I told you to be careful around here? You can’t just go around talking to…” He fell silent, saving his own sorry ass.

I gave him a cold smile. “I really enjoyed talking to your daughter.”

He rubbed his palms over his faded jeans nervously.

“Leona, can you go ahead. I need to have a talk with your father,” I said.

Leona’s eyes darted between her father and me. “You know each other?”

“We have a mutual friend.”

“Okay.” She gave me an uncertain smile. “See you soon?” It was half question, half statement.

“You bet,” I said quietly.

Her father clutched my arm the moment she was gone.

“Please,” he begged. “Is this because of the money I haven’t paid? I will pay it soon. Just don’t—”

I let my gaze fall to his fingers clutching my arm and he let go like he’d been burned. “Don’t what?” I asked dangerously.

He stepped back, shaking his head. He was worried for himself. He’d thought I had come to deal with him.

“I’d be sad to see her leave,” I said casually. “I suppose she’s going to stay for a while?”

He stared at me.

“I’d really hate for her to hear the wrong things about me. Understood?”

Slowly he nodded.

I returned to my car. His fearful gaze followed me as I drove off. I wasn’t even sure what exactly made me want to make her mine. Her father knew there was nothing he could do to stop me, not that he was the type to try. The only thing that could have stopped me from pursuing her now that my interest had been stirred was Remo, and he had no reason to interfere.

Chapter Seven

I slept late the next day. I wouldn’t have to work until three in the afternoon and needed to get some rest. When I walked into the kitchen, a box of donuts sat on the table and Dad was clutching a coffee cup.

“Morning,” I said even though it was almost twelve o’clock. I poured some coffee for myself before I sank down on the chair across from him.

“You got us breakfast,” I said in surprise and helped myself to a donut. I knew better than to expect pleasant surprises like that to occur on a daily basis.

“I asked a neighbor for some money until I get paid tomorrow.” He was some sort of courier from what I’d gathered, and I wondered how he could keep the job considering that his breath always stunk of alcohol.

“I could give you fifty dollars,” I said, pulling out the money from the waistband of my shorts. I’d learned to hide money close to my body. “Then you could pay him back and get us food for the next few days.”