TEN
REBECCA
Two months on the joband someone already took a shot at me. Had to be some kind of record. I wondered when someone first tried to kill my father.
Besides my mother.
I’d been staring in my makeup mirror for the past ten minutes. The flying chip of granite made a small, but precise deep cut.
Nate had called to say he was on his way to my townhouse. He also mentioned that after the last respect-payer had left the Long Island house, Mom packed up and went home with Cami and her husband to Connecticut. Cami’s baby was due soon and Mom must have decided since she wasn’t a wife or a queen anymore, she’d be a grandma.
I checked my watch figuring they were probably on the Orient Point ferry at the moment. I’d call her next week. Invite Mom to lunch to smooth things over. The uneasiness between us rattled me. We’d never been very close, but a daughter needed her mother.
I shoved two fingers into my hairline and brought a few strands down to hide the cut. I didn’t need Nate to know what happened. He’d never go back to L.A.
Or would he?
“Your brother is here, Becca,” Vale said to me from outside my bedroom.
Downstairs, my men paced every room making calls, listening for a change in people’s voices to give them away. Giancarlo had grabbed his laptop and set up a mini command center in my office, uploading those finger and palm prints to all kinds of hacked Fed and State Corrections’ sites to find a match.
With Vale in front of me, I walked down the stairs. Nate and Lacey stood in my vestibule looking like they had no intention of staying. If I had to guess, Lacey was eager to get home to her other men.
I’d be just as eager if I were forced to be away from even one of my guys.
I couldn’t imagine being far from Sebastien, Anthony, and Giancarlo. Especially not now. I felt vulnerable and exposed. I wanted one, maybe two, hell all three here with me every night.
And I didn’t give a damn who knew about it.
Queens weren’t expected to fight themselves. We showed strength with large armies and ruthless guards. Who better to guard me than my princes?
“What time is your flight?” I asked Nate, my hands sliding down my banister.
“A jet is at LaGuardia waiting for us,” Lacey said.
Their swanky private plane perhaps was loaded up with two very aroused rockstars missing their woman. Getting ready for a triple-stacked mile high adventure.
Yum.
Then I shook my head realizing one of those men was my brother. Ugh.
“Nate, I was hoping we could talk more.”
“Me too.” He hugged me. “I had no idea this would be an around-the-clock, five-day, funeral-palooza. I’m exhausted.”
“Mentally, it was a kick in the pants, huh?” I kissed him. “Lacey, I’m so glad you came and I got to see you.”
“Me too, Becs.” She hugged me, and whispered, “I’m always here if you want to talk.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled at me and lifted her eyes over my shoulder. By the heat crawling across my back, I knew my men were standing there. “I’d hug them goodbye too, but I’m just not sure your brother’s heart can take it. Or mine.”
“They’re fine. I’ll hug them for you.”
“I’ll call you next week, Becs.” Nate laid a final kiss on my cheek. “Gentlemen, take care of my sister.”
“We will,” Bastien said, positioning himself next to me.
They left and I held my hand against the door for a moment, taking a breath. I needed Nate out of New York. We had no idea who tried to kill me. And I didn’t want Nate and Lacey in the crosshairs. “He’s gone. I hope that proves he had no intention of taking—”
“Oh, no. No. No. No.” Gian looked at his phone and rushed back to my office.
With Bastien’s hand in mine, we ran after him.
Giancarlo bent over my desk, punching the keys on his laptop. “This isn’t happening.”
“What, Gian?” I asked and instinctively buried myself in Bastien’s arms.
“Giancarlo, you look like you’re about to explode,” Anthony said. “What the fuck is wrong?”
“Did you find out who that hitman was?” I asked him, shuddering that he may have devasting news to upend my sense of security.
“Doesn’t matter who that dog was. There’s now another contract to ice Becca.” Gian’s tone sounded throaty and sickening. “Fresh hitmen are logging onto this site someone just put up.” His eyes found mine.
“No...” I whispered.
“Afraid so, baby.” He spun his laptop around and against a white screen, a picture of me appeared with a transparent target layered over me.
My legs gave out, and Bastien caught me.
“Is that one-hundred-thousand dollars they’re offering?” Anthony asked, pointing.
“It sure is,” Gian said, brushing his hand across the bottom part of the screen. “All these profiles are hired killers.”
In horror, we watched the site light up with activity. Several dings followed about a minute later.
Gian ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Look at those comments. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
I’m not murdering the mafia queen.
Hit someone in the mob? Like I want to die next.
ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND?
Let me think about. I thought about. Fuck off, asshole. Kill her yourself.
I felt oddly comforted by people refusing to kill me.
“Oh no. They raised the contract to two-hundred-thousand dollars,” Gian said with a clenched jaw. “That’s why those comments were bad. They put doubt in people’s heads. Now the guy upped the ante and people will reconsider.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “Giancarlo, please tell me this is some sick joke.”
He sat down, looking more lethal than I’d ever seen him. “Nope. See that list there? Those are the screennames of people viewing the contract.”
“How many people are still on the page?” Anthony asked.
“Fifteen,” Bastien said, counting as the names scrolled by. “Wait, twenty. Twenty-two. Twenty-four...”
“I can count, Bastien,” Gian barked.