Ruin Me With Lies, page 22
“Oh yeah. Three,” he says. “Two of them, sisters, are fucking Grade A smoke-shows. Def gonna reel in the regs and bring in solid cash.”
“Gio seen them yet? He can take them to Black Gold tonight.”
“No idea.”
“Tell him to go check them out.”
He throws me a side-eye. “What, you’re hoping he’ll see them and forget about Raya?”
“Just speeding up the inevitable.”
He shakes his head. “How am I the only mature one these days? It’s insane.”
“You’re one to talk.” I scoff. “You’ve been creeping on that cop’s daughter for, what, years now? And still haven’t made a move. At this point you’re just a Peeping Tom with your dick in your hand, watching her fuck other dudes.”
First seed planted...
“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
“I quite enjoy doing that, so I will.” I flash him my palm. “Thanks for the reminder.”
We park outside the Laundry House and pop in. Run a quick inspection, have a few words with the staff, then head out again.
“You don’t think we need some younger hands in there?” I ask.
“That’s discrimination. Ageism.”
For shit’s sake. See, this is exactly why I’ve stepped back from these staffing decisions. All these ‘isms’ and ‘ists.’ I don’t give a shit. I do what I want, and anyone who doesn’t like it can walk. But Lorenzo’s taken up with Gio’s bullshit “empathetic” approach lately, listening to these people’s whining and bitching, catering to their “feelings” and worrying about morale.
Like what the fuck do they think this place is?
Not me. Never me. And I give it another month before Lorenzo burns out on it, too. His patience is much thinner than mine, his fuse way shorter. I’ll have my psycho twin back soon enough.
I steer the golf cart onto the straightaway leading to Brioso Hubb. Finally. The real reason I dragged his ass out here today.
A strange, unwelcome heat spreads through my chest when I spot her. Raya. In the middle of a group of men playing pool out on the deck, laughing and having fun. My collar suddenly feels too damn tight. I tug at it.
I hate it. All of it. I want her smiles to belong only to me. Her eyes only on me. Why does she evoke this possessive madness in me?
Lorenzo slows. “Wait, is that Raya?”
“Looks like it.”
“What the fuck’s she doing in there? And what’s with the getup?”
“That’s where she spends most of her free time. She’s tight with the Uppers.” I slide him a glance. “You didn’t know?”
Second seed planted…
He presses the pedal and the cart jerks forward.
I sit up straighter. The more worked up he gets over her being in there, the more excited I become.
Plan’s working like a charm.
Lorenzo brakes hard outside Brioso Hubb, hops out, and stomps up the paved steps.
All but grinning now, I take my time stepping out of the cart and trail him inside.
Activity slows the moment we walk in. Nods and chin jerks tossed our way. Nervous looks and worried glances exchanged.
All the wary eyes are trained on me, of course. Bracing for a storm. Expecting me to barge in and be the monster.
I slip my hands into my pockets and maintain a neutral stance, to show I’m not here to wreck the mood. Not today.
Lorenzo, on the other hand…
As he heads straight out to the deck where Raya’s in the midst of Uppers, I hang back and lean against the doorframe.
“What’s up, boss?” one Upper asks, glancing between us. “Something wrong?”
Raya’s actively ignoring us. Her small frame drowning in fabric like a goddamn vagabond. Oversized shirt, baggy pants and boots. Her usual getup for Brioso Hubb. All of it working overtime to downplay the heat she carries.
Doesn’t work. All that material swallowing her does nothing to quell the unrelenting heat flaming in my chest. Just seeing her sets me on fire.
Who the fuck is she and what the fuck is she doing to me?
“Just patrolling,” Lorenzo says steadily, eyes locked on Raya. “Last I checked, women weren’t exactly welcome in here.”
Go on, brother. Ream them out for harboring her here. Kick her out. Ban that little snake from hanging around them.
“What do you me—oh, you mean RayRay?” the Upper asks, then laughs. “Nah, RayRay’s different. We like having her around. She’s a beast at pool, and she brings good vibes, you know?”
“Hmm.” Lorenzo rubs his jaw. “That’s all there is to it?”
The men exchange uneasy glances. “What’re you tryna ask us, boss?”
Lorenzo shifts focus and asks Raya directly, “Why’re you wearing a scarf in this dry ass heat?”
My smug satisfaction falters. Shit. I’m so used to her hobo getups that I didn’t even register the scarf. Tied around the neck I strangled two nights ago.
Are there bruises? Two days should be enough time for them to fade, right?
This might still play in my favor, though. No way in hell she’ll drop my name. That would screw whatever cover she’s built with these guys.
“I have the chills. Think I’m coming down with something.” She coughs. “There’s a bug going around.”
She lies so easily. So effortlessly. I want to pin her down and kiss the deceit right off her lips.
“Hm,” Lorenzo grunts again. “Well, let’s go then. Don’t want you getting my men sick.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I not look serious?”
An Upper leans in and mutters to her low, “Best not to argue. He’s being fake chill right now. One wrong word and someone’s gonna be bleeding.”
Visibly annoyed, Raya slams her pool stick down and stalks up to him. “Fine, boss. Let’s go, then.”
Lorenzo steps aside to let her pass. But as she does, he rips the scarf off her neck, exposing the bruises. Faded, but evident.
Well, shit.
This isn’t how this was supposed to go. But manipulation always has a hidden cost.
“Who did this?” Lorenzo grips her chin, turning her face side to side. “Name. Now.”
Raya knocks his hand away. “It’s not what you think. It’s a sex thing.”
“A sex—who the fuck—” He draws his gun. “Who? Name. NOW.”
The Uppers instantly back up, hands raised in surrender.
“Which of you is it?” Lorenzo’s aim jumps from head to head. “Who. Fucking. Touched her?”
“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” Raya groans, burying her face in her hands.
The men lob confused glances at each other.
“Isn’t she into chicks?” one mutters to another. “Why’s he asking us?”
“Lorenzo,” Raya hisses, yanking at his jacket. “Please. Stop. You’re overreacting.”
“I’ll say this once,” Lorenzo says, voice like cold steel. “Raya is. Off. Fucking. Limits. She’s not just another Pink House girl. She’s practically my little sister. So if any of you think you can mess around with her—” He locks eyes with each of them. “You’ll have me to deal with.”
The men nod, murmuring their understanding.
Raya gapes at Lorenzo, scoffs, then stomps off. Doesn’t even spare me a glance as she blows past and out of the hub.
With one final, sweeping glare over the men, he declares, “Double this month’s salary to whoever brings me the name of the asshole who left those marks on her.”
And on that, he turns and walks out.
The men remain still, watching me with edged caution, bracing. As if they’re expecting me to blow them all to pieces.
Unbelievable. I haven’t said a word this whole time. My hands are in my goddamn pockets. Would be nice if these ungrateful fucks looked at me with even a flicker of appreciation for saving their pathetic lives, elevating them from gutter trash to something useful. For fucking once.
I push off the doorframe and walk out.
Outside, Lorenzo’s holstering his gun, eyes locked on Raya who’s flouncing off in the distance, anger in every step.
“You think it’s really a ‘sex thing’?” he asks. “Or is she covering for someone?”
If he finds out I tried to kill her, things are going to get messy. She’s under his “Halo.” His protection. Which means, hands off. No violence. What I did the other night is a direct breach of our “Halo” treaty. At any other time, I wouldn’t give a damn. But right now, with everything else going sideways, the last thing I need is to be at odds with my best friend.
“Who knows?” I shrug. “I don’t believe a damn word that comes out of her mouth. Even the Uppers think she’s into women.”
“It better not be Gio,” he mutters, sliding into the cart. “We all agreed that neither of you would touch her until all this shit’s over. If I find out that fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants...”
I didn’t agree to anything. He talked and I listened.
“Hmm. Now that I think about it...yeah, I think it’s him.” I climb in behind the wheel, straight-faced. “Definitely Gio.”
Look, when I put this plan together, the marks on Raya’s neck weren’t part of the equation.
A minor hiccup, but it didn’t throw off the plan.
Step one: Poke the bear.
Get Lorenzo on patrol with me. Let him needle me about Raya just enough so I can flip it back on him and poke at his pressure point. The cop’s daughter.
Done.
Step two: Feed the bear.
Once he’s wound up enough, head toward Brioso Hubb. Make sure he sees Raya posted up with the Uppers, which will piss him off. He might not be interested in Raya, but he’s still territorial. He can’t control what the cop’s daughter does, or who she’s with, or how far away she is, so he’ll dump all his frustration on the ones he can control. Raya and the Uppers.
Done.
Step three: Break the bear.
For weeks now, he’s been white-knuckling the urge to run off to L.A. to stalk the cop’s daughter in the flesh. Throwing all his focus into dealing with our mess here. But if my plan works, he’ll crack by the end of the week. He’ll spring an impromptu trip to L.A. using another “Tripp Garza has a private emergency and needs my help” excuse. Tripp’s his favorite cousin. They’re tight, and have secrets even I don’t know about, so Tripp will cover for him—as he always does. And I won’t even question it because I orchestrated it.
Pending.
Only then will I make my move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Raya
FROM A CABIN AT the top of the unmoving Ferris wheel in Soul of Mirabella, I gaze up at the star-soaked desert sky.
This is my favorite spot in the villa. It’s where I come when I need to think. While Benny Four, the wheel operator, watches Westerns at maximum volume in his work hut, I quietly scale the frames of the Ferris wheel to the highest cabin, and just sit back…and breathe. As me. All guards down.
I’ve been up here for hours. Midnight’s come and gone. But I had to get away from everything and everyone for a bit before I did something violently stupid.
Because Lorenzo’s bullshit had me ready to snap today. Arrogant, chest-puffing, asshole male overreach is nothing new to me, but I haven’t felt that humiliated and publicly chastised since I was a kid.
Like, what the actual hell was Lorenzo’s deal today? Labeling me his “little sister” have officially torched my carefully built relationship with the Uppers. Does he seriously not get how I’ve been gathering intel this whole time? How I’ve managed to pick up on quiet rumors, earn trust, pull threads that could actually help us figure out who the real threat is?
I respect the man, I do. But today I had to physically stop myself from knocking his overgrown ass to the ground and twisting his fucking head clean off his shoulders.
There’s no chance I’m welcome at Brioso Hubb anymore after that scene. Which I guess is exactly what he wanted.
I’m jolted out of my indignant spiral when the Ferris wheel lurches and begins to move. What…
Peering down, I spot Benny Four on the operator’s deck. Maybe he saw me climb up here forever ago and finally decided to check on me.
“I’m fine, Benny Four!” I call down.
No response.
My cabin continues its slow descent. Down…down…until I’m at the bottom. And only then do I understand.
The king is here. Hands in his pockets, radiating heat and quiet threat like always.
On the totem pole of bone-chillingly terrifying men I’ve encountered in my lifetime, Stefano’s at the bottom. But his presence is lethal in a way that feels intrinsic, instinctual. An aura he has no control over. The darkness that clings to him is heavy and baleful.
You don’t need to know him to fear him. You just need to feel him.
“Well, well. What a bitter surprise,” he mutters, tone dry. “Lo’s been looking for you. Got my hopes up. Thought maybe you finally granted me my wish and crawled back to whatever pit you came from.”
“Funny. That wasn’t your wish two nights ago.”
He tips his head, side to side. “Eh. I’m fickle like that. Today I like you. Tomorrow, I want to gut you.”
From the operator’s deck, Benny Four coughs out a nervous, gravelly laugh. “Aye. That’s the boss for ya.”
Stefano steps forward, slips his hands from his pockets, and unlatches my cabin before climbing in beside me. His large frame gobbles up the limited space, his heavy heat hitting me like a third limb, wrapping around me in an overpowering hug. Inescapable.
And, of course, he smells maddeningly good. It’s ridiculous that, no matter the place or time, he always smells delicious enough to lick. This is a very busy man. He runs a freaking empire. At this hour, he should at least have the decency to be a little musty.
“You don’t think your overgrown self would be more comfortable in a cabin of your own?” I ask, pressing into the cold metal to put any distance between us. “You require a lot of…spatial demand.”
“Or…” He lifts his arms. “You could just sit in my lap.” He waits. And when I don’t move, he arches a brow. “No? Too shy?”
I glance pointedly at his crotch. “Nah. Just worried I’ll hurt the tiny bits behind that zipper.”
He chuckles, low and unbothered, then calls to Benny Four, “To the top. Stall.”
Benny Four nods.
The cabin lurches and slowly circles to the top, then halts to a stop. Leaving us to the midnight-blue blanket of stars spread out before us.
I keep my eyes trained above, giving him nothing.
After a few beats of silence, he says, “So...what, you’re sulking?”
“Your brother is an asshole.”
His answering scoff is crisp. “Were you under the impression he’s nice?”
I shift my gaze to him. “Why do I get the feeling you approve of what he pulled today?”
“Probably because I do.”
“Why?”
His broad shoulder brushes mine as he shrugs. “Because I’m an asshole, too?”
“Try again.”
“Maybe I don’t like you hanging around those fuckers,” he forces through clenched teeth, as if the words are splinters in his throat, a struggle to get out. “Maybe I don’t like them touching you. Looking at you. And…and fucking breathing on you.”
Judging by his clenched jaw and his averted eyes, that admission took a bite out of his pride.
“And so you got Lorenzo to do your dirty work?” I tilt my head. “Aren’t you the head honcho around here?”
“We’re in the middle of a potential coup, if you haven’t noticed,” he says dryly. “I have to choose my battles.”
“Hm. I keep forgetting you’re not just some dumb criminal.”
“How she flatters me,” he mutters under his breath, then exhales, long and tired. “Being feared is overrated. It’s not always fun feeling like the angel of death. You look in anyone’s direction and they flinch, duck their heads, like they’re about to breathe their last.” He tips his head back and stares at the sky. “Lo and Gio can do whatever the hell they want, no matter how vile, how vicious, and they’re still seen as ‘bros.’ Me? I don’t even have time to do half the fucked up shit they do, creating messes for me to clean up. Most of my hours are spent making deals, managing fallout, maintaining connections, keeping the whole damn system from collapsing. I’m a businessman. Without me, no one gets fed. But somehow all the blame, judgment and fear get pushed to me. I’m the big bad monster.”
“Because you’re the boss,” I say quietly. “You carry the weight of your people’s sins. That’s what being king is, no?”
“I know. I do.” He pauses. “It just gets...I don’t know—”
“Alienating?”
His head swings toward me, brows knitting. “Yeah. Exactly that.”
He shifts like he’s trying to face me, but his size makes it awkward in the tight space. “I think…” He hesitates, then lets it land. “I think that’s why I’m so drawn to you. You’re not afraid of me.”
“That’s also why you hate me and tried to kill me,” I remind him.
He laughs into the night air, and it’s so hypnotic, so unexpectedly warm, that I catch myself smiling. “You’ve danced with scarier devils than me, haven’t you, little liar?”
Sweeping my gaze back up at the sky, I plead the fifth.
After a short stretch of soothing silence, I say, “I hung out with the Uppers because it was the best and fastest way to get in on all the chatter and whispers. They’re loose-lipped around me because they don’t see me as a woman. But that’s all screwed now.”
“Am I supposed to give a shit?” he asks, unfazed.
“Considering I’m tasked with clearing the black cloud hanging over your empire? Yes. You should.”
“You’ll come to learn, Delilah, that even to my own detriment, I’m unapologetically selfish.” His chuckle is dismissive, careless. “I want what I want.”
And what he wants is control…over me. There’s no reasoning with him in that case.
“Must be fun in that webby head of yours,” I mumble.
