“So that’s why you told me to wear it all the time?”
He nods. “Be pissed off at me if you want, but it’s only because I’m worried about your safety. If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d fucking do, Shaye. I’m desperate, okay? I need to keep you safe.”
I swallow hard and look down at my watch.
A loud ping makes me jump as I consider my next words.
Nico grabs his phone from the table. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“What is it?”
He looks up from the phone. “It’s Carlo Batta, one of my security guys. He’s dead.”
* * *
NICO
I stabMax’s phone number into the keypad of my phone then pull Shaye close while I wait for him to answer. I stroke the back of her head, biting back expletives that I will let fly as soon as she’s safe.
Somewhere. Anywhere but here.
“Yeah?”
“Max,” I growl. “Get in here now.”
“Dude, I’m balls deep in this chick. What the hell is so urgent?”
“Carlo is dead. Duke just found him out back. Get the fuck over here now.”
“Oh, shit.” I hear him mumble something to the girl he’s with, and a second later, he responds. “Give me five. I’ll be right there.”
Shaye’s shoulders quiver against me, and I wrap my arms around her, tossing the phone onto the bed. Her tears soak through my half-buttoned shirt, her hands clutching at my back. “Nico, I’m so scared. Who did this? Are they inside the club? Are they…are they…?”
I know the words she wants to ask, but doesn’t dare.
And the answer is…yes, they are coming for me.
But I keep that to myself. She already knows too much, has seen too much.
Where the fuck can I even send her? To my house? To her parents’ house? To my new place here in the city which less than a handful of people know about? I bought the place after everything happened because it’s off the radar, but I can’t hide it forever. And who the fuck knows how many guys Luca has in his back pocket? They could be camped out all over the tri-state area for all we know, ready to pounce.
Even though deep down, I know they aren’t. He wants me.
But he’ll take out whomever he can to send me a message just in case I missed his point with Carlo. And that would be fucking impossible to ignore. The image in Duke’s text made my gut clench. I knew Luca had been overseas doing some half-cocked MMA tour since he was kicked out of the World Fighting Alliance for illegal drug use, but what he did to Carlo…Jesus Christ. And I sure as hell know he didn’t use a weapon other than his fists.
MMA regulations in Southeast Asia, where he had been touring, are pretty lax, and from what I hear, they don’t do drug testing. So Luca spends most of his time in the ring hopped up on PCP, or whatever else he uses, so he can’t feel any pain.
He can only inflict it in the most brutal possible way.
I’ve also heard about his own personal mortality rate. If you climb into the ring with him, be prepared to stay there. Indefinitely. Or, if you’re lucky, you’ll only get wheeled out on a gurney and hooked up to a respirator.
That image was bad enough. It tells me exactly what I want to know…confirms exactly what I’ve been fearing.
Because I’m not a trained killer. I’m not a murderer. I’m not a fucking assassin.
I’m a guy who was trying to save his girlfriend from certain death. I killed Luca’s father. I did what I had to do to save the woman I love.
And now Luca is out for blood.