Sinner's Revenge(98)

I park on the street, and I’m still getting out when I’m shoved to the ground. My guns are taken from me, which I predicted would happen anyway. “Who are you?” one of the men asks. He sounds excited and I’m guessing that they don’t get much action around here.

“Shady,” I say, the side of my face pressed against the sidewalk. “I’m here to see Dorian.” I’m pulled to my feet while someone speaks into an earpiece. Whoever responds on the other end must have told them who I was. Now they’re brushing off my clothes and offering me a cigarette. But they don’t offer me my gun.

“I’m good. But, I’ll be expecting that back when I leave,” I tell them, pointing to my gun that one of the other guards is already admiring.

“Sure thing, Shady.” Fucking goons. They were worse than Prospects.

I’m ushered through the gates, and up the stone steps of the palace. A heavy wooden door opens once I reach the top and an old man greets me, offering me a glass of wine, which I decline. When he offers whiskey, I accept.

Another goon holding a machine gun leads me into a parlor that smells like cigar smoke and money. My eyes scan the room, appraising all the fine artwork and expensive decor I should probably give a shit about. But I don’t. The one thing that does capture my attention is a mural on the wall of a woman in red. Diem had the same portrait.

“My wife.” I turn to see Dorian walking in. His white dress shirt is untucked with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He holds a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. “She reminds me that love is a dangerous thing.” He stands beside me, looking up at the beautiful woman that resembles Diem, but there is still no comparison.

“No man has ever loved a woman as much as I loved my Dia. She was my world.” He pauses, turning to look at me. I can still see the hate sparkling in his eyes. “Then she fucked me. Both literally and figuratively.”

The old man appears with my whiskey and I take it, thanking him kindly. “Do you mind if I smoke?” I ask, needing the nicotine to help calm my nerves.

“Smoke,” Dorian says with a wave of his hand. “What brings you here on this beautiful evening, Shady? It has to be important considering you disobeyed my direct order to not leave Diem’s side. So, are you here for business or pleasure?”

I light the cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before answering. “Both.”

“Both.” He nods his head, gesturing for me to take the seat across from him. I’d rather stand, but considering his position, I sit out of respect. “Go ahead, the floor is yours.”

“I’m here to discuss Diem.”

At the mention of her name, a spark of concern flashes in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask about her well-being. I wasn’t expecting the show of weakness, but it gives me a little more confidence than I had a moment ago.

“She wants out,” I say, cutting through the bullshit. This isn’t a man who cares to hear it, so I don’t waste his time.

“Out? There is only one way out.” His voice remains calm, but I can see the disappointment written all over his face.

“That’s why I’m here. To help find another way out.”

He shifts, not liking my tone. Unfortunately for him, I don’t give a shit. “I don’t take kindly to threats, Shady. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“I’m not threatening you. I simply want to make you an offer. Someone to step in and take Diem’s place.”

He laughs, finding humor in my suggestion. “Who? You? This isn’t your bike club, Shady. This is the Mafia. Blood matters in this business. You have to be made to be a part of my family. And even if your tanned skin and dark eyes make you appear to be from our bloodline, my people will know the difference. You look more Mexican than Greek, my friend.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Sí, señor.” I take a sip of my whiskey, letting him recover from his fit of laugher. Damn, he’s easily amused. “But I wasn’t talking about me.” My smile drops, and I watch as his fades too.

“There is no one else,” he says, a warning in his tone.

I lean forward. “But you know that I know better than that, don’t you, Dorian.”

He shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face. “You come into my house and tell me what I know? What’s to keep me from killing you where you sit? Other than my expensive Persian rug that your filthy blood will stain.”

“Diem is falling apart. She’s not made for this. No amount of training can force her to become someone she isn’t. You and me,” I say, gesturing between the two of us. “We were born for this life. Dirk, he was born for this life.” At the mention of his name, Dorian’s eyes narrow. “She’s a woman, Dorian. I’m not saying that makes her any less of a human, but I’m saying that she needs more than just death, and money, and power. She needs love, nurturing, and knowledge that there is a man in this world that will always protect her.”