Lucian (Filthy Marcellos #1)(43)

"Ready for some Marcello fun?" Lucian asked as he held open the door.

Dante smirked. "Always am."

Thirty minutes later, Lucian stood behind a lawyer known for his class-action ability in the courtroom, and his gambling addiction on the streets. He wasn't important enough for Lucian to call the man by name, but money owed to any brother was money owed to their father.

That shit couldn't be had.

Dante leaned back in the armless leather chair across from the man's desk and crossed his left ankle over his right knee. Sometimes, especially when his younger brother was like this, Lucian was taken aback at how much he imitated their father without even realizing it. As if it was nothing at all, Dante's mask would flip, and suddenly he wasn't just a young man, but a hardened, cold, emotionless being born from crime.

"Two-hundred G's. That's a big debt to owe. And you've owed it for  …  what, eight weeks, now? That's unacceptable. From what I understand, none of Giovanni's previous messages to gain back his loan worked."

"Messages?" the lawyer choked out.

"You're a lawyer, surely you understand." Lucian shrugged. "It's a nicer term than threats and less illegal."

"It is," Dante agreed. "And this one is a much more up close and personal one for you. It isn't often debtors have a face-to-face meeting with the underboss nowadays. Consider yourself lucky."

Lucian hadn't done much to the lawyer but frighten him and smack him around a little while Dante sat in his chair, calm and unfazed, explaining why they were there and what was going to happen during the meeting. It'd been a couple years since Lucian and Dante were able to work together like this  …  and it felt like old times.

Good memories.

"So," Dante continued, setting his foot back to the floor and standing from the chair, " …  this is how we're going to make this thing work, Mr. Crain. No more screwing around, you have a week to pay the loan back."



       
         
       
        

"A week?" the man asked, still breathless from an earlier rib shot.

Dante moved fast, too swift for the man to react. Not that he could have, as Lucian was still looming behind him, the threat he couldn't forget. Like a flash, Dante's hands struck out and grabbed the lawyer's, drawing them to the very edge of the desk as his fingers dug into the backs of the man's knuckles.

"Oh, I so wish I'd brought my pocketknife along with me today just to collect the first late payment," Dante said, staring the man right in the face and smiling. "I don't like to repeat myself, so be sure to listen well from here on out. One week. For every week you're late, I'll have one of your fingers cut off to be used as a wind chime on the deck of my Fifth Avenue condo. It should go nicely with the twenty-million dollar view. You can add an extra fifteen percent interest on top of the money you already owe because you've tested my patience today. Understood?"

Swallowing hard, the lawyer nodded frantically. "Yeah  …  Yes, o-okay."

"Good to hear." Dante let him go. "Lucian?"

With Dante's go-ahead for the final warning, Lucian's hand slammed into the back of the lawyer's head with crushing force. Because he wasn't expecting it, there was no resistance. The man's face hit the flat, hard wood top of his desk with a sickening crunch. Blood, teeth, saliva, and cartilage spilled from a broken mouth and nose.

"Stop smiling so damned much on those awful commercials of yours," Lucian said above him. "This should help. Someone will be back to see you next week, Mr. Crain."

As the brother's walked out of the lawyer's office and down the hall to where his secretary waited, Dante greeted the woman behind her desk with a charming, confidant smile. "He told me to let you know he's a little worn out, so he's going to take a nap. Again, we're sorry for the unexpected meeting, but he knew we were coming."

"That's okay, but I didn't get your name," the girl said.

Lucian grinned. "You don't need it."

Walking down the long staircase that led to the alley, Lucian fixed his jacket and tie for the fifth time. Just as he made a move to push open the door, the rapid sound of assault gunfire had him dropping against the door and grabbing for the weapon in the back of his pants. Dante followed suit, crouched low to the wall with a Magnum in his grip.

As quickly as the gunfire came, it was gone.

The sound of a familiar car alarm ringing through the street was loud and clear.

"This isn't a part of town where a drive by would be common," Dante said, glancing up at Lucian. 

No, it certainly wasn't.

"Stay here, yeah?"

Dante glared. "No."

"Yes, asshole," Lucian snarled. "Because Dad would kill me if something happened to you. You're not even supposed to be with me today. Give me twenty seconds. That's all."

Refusing to argue with his brother further, Lucian slipped out of the alley entrance door and walked calmly down the way with his gun still out in the open at his side. Sweat had suddenly slicked up his palms, and his heart raged faster. It wasn't like him to be nervous, but something felt off. So wrong.

The car alarm was so much louder outside.

Out in the brightness of the street, Lucian stood staring at his beloved Lexus in shock.

All the way along the driver's side of the car, bullet spray littered the car. Windows were shattered, the vehicle was ruined, and it was still running, just like Lucian left it. The Lexus was the only car on the side of the street that was hit.

"Dolce cazzo," Dante exclaimed from behind him.

"I told you to wait!"

"Did someone try to kill us?"

It wouldn't be the first time.

Lucian didn't think the subject of intent was his brother, though. No one knew Dante was working with him but Gio, and that just wasn't possible. Desperately, he tried to search his brain and remember if someone had followed him that morning.

Nothing stood out.

Someone might have gotten word he was going to be in the area and sought his vehicle out. That was possible. With the car left running, it might have looked like he was inside because the windows were tinted so dark they were illegal.

"Lucian?"

"No, someone tried to kill me."



• • •



"I thought you were going to the gym today?" Antony asked, turning fast on Dante with his narrowing gaze.

"Change of plans."

Antony scoffed. "Change of plans, Dante. What would have happened if you were in that car, son?"

"We wouldn't be having this discussion, I imagine," Dante replied indifferently.

Wrong answer. Lucian groaned internally.

"Wouldn't be having this-" Antony pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing out air like a pissed off bull. Lucian knew what was coming next and moved slightly in front of Jordyn to block her from it. A glass went flying into the wall and shattered as Antony's anger exploded. "Get out of my face right now before I make you wish you were in that fucking car!"

Oddly, Jordyn didn't seem to react a bit to Antony's show of rage. She simply continued staring down at her hands resting in her lap while Dante left his father's home office with a flip of his middle finger and muttering about needing a drink, anyway.

"Lucian-"

"Hey, don't turn this on me again," Lucian interrupted his father sharply. "He's twenty-six, almost twenty-seven. I can't control him. Besides, this wasn't an issue two years ago when the three of us were running together like a pack of dogs."

"I didn't say this was your fault!"

"It was ten minutes ago when you were yelling at me."

Antony glared at the wall where the paint scratched from the glass hitting it. "And I was yelling at Gio an hour ago for not remembering to make his bed last Sunday morning before church. I yell. That's what I do when I'm frustrated."

"Gio's twenty-five," Lucian grumbled under his breath. "He doesn't need parenting about his messy bed."

"He does when he sleeps over in my goddamn house and your mother refuses to let me hire her another maid and then complains about the state of his bed."



       
         
       
        

"Listen, I handled the cops," Lucian started. "Quick statement, number to contact, the usual. I didn't have anything to say, didn't see anything, and that was that. They can call my lawyer if they want something else."

"Oh, I know." Antony shook his head and grimaced. "I hate them picking around, though. They don't need to be too close to any of us for any reason. It unsettles me. It's unnatural for us to be communicating with police unless I'm paying them for information."

"They were interested in why I was in the area," Lucian added as an afterthought.

"And?"

"And nothing. I said I was visiting a friend. They wanted to know who, and I told them it didn't make a difference as to why my car was involved in a drive by shooting. They couldn't exactly disagree. Like I said, they have my lawyer's number."

"Was this about me?" Jordyn asked softly from the couch. "Or The Sons of Hell again?"