Devil (The Marchesi Family 3)

Couldn’t he see I wanted to protect him? Couldn’t he see it was wrong to do nothing? He tried to play it all cool and stoic, but I saw his fear. I knew he wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this. I was damn fucking sure I was going to keep him out of jail, even if I ended up there myself. Lucien had been the rock Angelo and I had relied on since we were little, even more so since their mother had died when Angelo and I were sixteen. In all but blood, she’d been my mother too. The aftermath of her death was a dark time for all of us, but in spite of his own grief, Lucien had pulled me and Angelo through it.

He needed someone to support him now, someone he could rely on to help him focus and prop him up for a change. Angelo was better at that than me, and Lucien was more likely to accept Angelo’s insistence that he needed to get some rest.

That meant I was the one who needed to go out there and tear my way through every person who was a threat to him. I was going to find the real killer, and I was going to use any means necessary to clear Lucien’s name. I didn’t give a fuck about danger. I didn’t give a fuck about burning bridges. All I cared about was taking that worried look off Lucien’s face. If that meant I ended up with a few more scars and a few more things that haunted me when my faulty conscience decided to show itself, so be it.

“I need some air.” I stood abruptly. My chair tipped, and Angelo just managed to catch it before it crashed to the ground.

Lucien said something, but I didn’t hear the words over the pounding of my pulse in my ears and a whirl of fury and fear that threatened to make my head explode. Why the fuck wouldn’t Lucien let me defend him the way he’d done for me for so many years? I was spoiling for a fight as I exited our downtown headquarters. I wanted to beat the shit out of someone, preferably someone with information about who’d really killed Lily. Or the detective working Lucien’s case. If I couldn’t do that, then I needed to get really fucking drunk.

I cruised the city on my bike, driving way too fast, cutting in and out of traffic and loving it every time someone yelled or honked at me. When I thought I could be civilized enough to order a fucking drink, I started hitting bars, one after another. I lost count of the number of shots I downed, got into two fights, fucked a gorgeous woman against a wall in an alley, and then let a spiky-haired twink lead me to a party in an abandoned building by the docks.

By the time we arrived, my buzz was starting to wear off. I was really damn tempted to indulge in some of the pills I was offered, but years ago, I’d downed a handful of pills some guy had given me and almost died. After a night in the ER, Lucien had made me promise I would never put myself or him and Angelo through that again. I hadn’t touched any drugs other than weed since. I wasn’t going to fuck up my record now. I needed something to give me a rush, though. It was obvious I could have my pick of most of the men and women at the party. I’d gotten appreciative looks from people, and as I squeezed through the crowd, hands reached out to touch me, caressing my tattooed biceps or groping my ass.

Only one man truly drew my attention. He nearly blended into the dark room in his black leather jacket and dark jeans. What drew me was the way he watched me, like a cat on the prowl. One who wanted to eat me up. I was sure I’d seen him at a few of the bars I’d been at. Was he following me, or was it coincidence? It didn’t matter. Even if I offered him what he obviously wanted, it would just be another fuck, which wouldn’t work any better than more alcohol to chase away the restless feeling inside me. I needed danger. I needed the thrill of putting my life on the line. Maybe it was fucked up to refuse pills then do something else equally risky, but I had no idea what was in the pills people were passing around. If I stood in front of a loaded gun or jumped into a knife fight, I knew exactly what stakes I faced.

No one in the warehouse looked ready to shoot me, so I would have to make my own fun. I pushed away from the wall where I’d been leaning.