Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 7

7

THE CARDINAL RULE

Rio

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Despite the muffled music rattling the walls of my office, the clock behind me makes itself known, clicking in my ear as if it weren’t hung high above my head. My gaze falls to the face of my Rolex, an exasperated sigh shooting past my lips.

Any day now, Belucci.

Only reason I even took the damn shipment is because I knew she’d be the one picking it up. Free money is great and all, but I have no use for fake—albeit realistic and functional—cash. That’s not my department. I simply make it my business to know what the Beluccis are up to at all times. What moves they’re making, if they’re keeping up their half of the deal or plotting some sneaky shit. What can I say? I don’t like surprises—and I don’t trust them .

Not after everything…

Zeb’s my go-to for that. Tech whiz with P.I. expertise, he’s always watching, always tailing, always reporting back. So when he mentioned earlier this morning that Amadeo had a new shipment come in and overheard him disclosing his daughter would be back to unload and carry it out later, the idea sparked like a wild blaze.

Remember that shipment I told Joel—hole in his hand—Esposito about? Yeah, well, it’s gone. Intercepted and destroyed before even making it to the storage lot. Took several days of digging around, but Zeb came through with a name.

A name who just made himself a new enemy.

To execute my plan, however, I need help. Didn’t start off as hers specifically, but in all honesty, Ivory’s a shoe-in. Getting her to agree is going to be no simple task, though. I’m on her shit list, and she’s on mine. We’re a disaster waiting to happen, yet it makes the most sense.

At least, in my convoluted head it does.

Shoving the latest closing documents for RLG Properties aside, aka my side hustle (all quite legal, I’d like to point out), I push out of my chair and bound around the desk, bracing myself against the edge. Where is she? Did she not follow through with the pick up? Am I about to go head to head with Santo instead?—

Bang!

The door flies open, slamming against the wall with such force, some of my framed diplomas and certificates clash to the floor. “Where the fuck is it?” Ivory growls, all but charging towards me, her arms extended .

I take a moment to regard her, clad in all-black and looking licensed to kill. Aside from the night of the fire, this is the first time I’ve seen her since breaking into her dorm two years ago. Something about her is different, harder… colder. And as much as I don’t want to notice them, those curves stand out, too. What once used to be a slim frame with very subtle dips and swells is now a full-on hourglass figure. She’s thick as fuck, and not in a slim-thick, fake body kind of way. No, these are real, plush curves.

Second thing I note is her dark hair isn’t as primped and perfect as per her usual standards. It’s somewhat of a mess, as if she’s been running her hands through it in aggravation.

An aggravation with my name all over it.

This pleases me.

I’m staring down the barrel of her Beretta from my perch, yet I’m nothing short of amused, tilting my head aside. “Took you long enough,” I quip. “I was starting to grow gray hairs.”

She huffs a little and takes another two steps forward. “Cut the shit, Rio. Where . Is the shipment?”

“It’s safe…for now, anyway.” The corner of my mouth quivers with mirth, a subtle action she not only notices, but doesn’t like. It’s clear in the way those golden eyes flash and the fact she chooses that moment to undo the safety, the click loud and all too clear.

“Hand it over,” she demands, lip curling distastefully.

“Or what? You gonna pull the trigger, Petal?”

Instant silence.

Her previous frustration, one already so palpable, multiplies by the thousands at the sound of her old pet name, emanating in sweltering waves. She knows I’m right, knows there’s only so much she can do before the cardinal rule comes into play. The one rule that has been my saving grace after fucking with her time and time again:

The Belucci/Guerra kids are off-limits.

All of us.

An entire war could be playing out between our fathers and our lives would still be off the table. A non-negotiable. So this…her little show of dominance…means absolutely nothing to me. She can point that gun at me all night if she wants to. The end result would be the same.

Takes everything in me not to gloat.

“I’m not in the mood to repeat myself. Give me the damn shipment,” she sneers between her teeth, which in turn only widens my grin.

“I will. After you do something for me.”

The words haven’t hung in the air for even a breath when a bullet whizzes past my head and lodges into the wall behind me, the sound undetected thanks to the silencer. “Try again, Guerra.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her attempt to evoke some kind of fear—from me, no less. Watching her newly sharpened claws come out to play might just be my new favorite thing.

Evidently, she doesn’t find our predicament as amusing as I do. In a few mere steps, she eats up the small space between us and sets the tip of her weapon to my temple. “Why the hell would I ever do anything for you?”

“Because you’re not getting what you came for if you don’t,” I retort candidly.

Holding her incensed stare, I reach behind me and retrieve the sizable yellow envelope sitting on my desk, extending it her way.

Ivory lowers the steel tip from my head and glances down at the proffered information, a dark brow perking in question. “The fuck is this?” she asks flatly, because of course she has to make this more difficult than it already is.

“Open it.”

“Just cut to the chase, Rio. I’d like to go home sometime this century.”

My jaw clenches in response, but I yield to her demand. If I don’t, we’ll be here all night. “Ever heard of Benedikt Koshka?” I question, returning the envelope to my desk with a slap.

“No. Is he your boyfriend?”

This girl.

“No,” I sigh in annoyance, “he’s my problem . A newly established one.” My tone relays as much in case she needs the clarification. “Earlier this week, a few of his men intercepted one of my shipments coming in on I-95. I had at least six months worth of product in there before it went up in flames. So now I?—”

“Sounds like karma,” she interjects, satisfaction momentarily flickering over her features. “Still not following, though. What does that have to do with me?”

“You’re gonna help me get it back, that’s what. ”

A blend of confusion and offense settle on her face. She digs the gun into my temple all over again, deeper and infinitely harder this time. “The hell I am. I’m not doing a damn thing for you. You either cough up my dad’s shit or I’m putting a bullet through your skull. You know, as a big thank you for the blaze and all.”

I told you not to come back…

“You’re not that dumb,” I clip out. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Sure about that?” Her deep burgundy lips spread in a slow smile—pretty, bright, deadly.

I might actually believe her if I didn’t know better. She isn’t that stupid, that’s for sure, but she also doesn’t have the balls. Ivory wasn’t groomed for this life the way I was. As daddy’s little princess, there wasn’t a need. One complaint and he or Santo would solve all of her problems.

Aside from me, that is.

Still, somewhere in the back of my mind, alarm bells blare. There’s a gun to my head, for fuck’s sake, her finger dangerously close to the trigger.

Clearly, vengeance isn’t beneath her.

One breath of impulse could lead to my demise before I can so much as blink, and then what? I was trying for the sake of this undesirable yet necessary union to be on my best behavior, but it seems Ivory doesn’t play well with nice these days.

Definitely my bad.

Won’t happen again.

Without so much as a grunt, I snatch the Beretta from her possession and lock a swift arm around her waist, slamming her onto my desk. Her head bangs into the hard surface, eyes squeezing shut as she howls from the blow. I take full advantage and wedge myself between her legs, pinning her down with force.

It’s not lost on me I’ve put us in quite the compromising position, noting for a fleeting moment how good she looks like this… beneath me , her breaths uneven, cheeks flushed. The stupid thought draws an aggravated growl from deep within my chest, and I slam her against the desk again; a feeble attempt to dissolve it along with the memories trying to resurface. I’m so overcome with rage that, on the second howl, I shove the gun into her mouth.

“You’re lucky I can’t pull the trigger,” I grit venomously, my nose pressed firmly to her cheek as I push the barrel further down her throat, relishing the way her gag reflex engages around it. “Would make my life so much easier.”

Watching her gag around a mouthful of steel, struggling to breathe a little more with each passing second brings me great joy.

A short lived joy, sadly.

Claw-like nails make contact with my face, scraping down its length with enough force and depth to likely draw blood. My eyes water and immediately snap shut as the sting amplifies, whirring a thunderous hiss between my teeth. A mistake in and of itself. My biggest mistake, however, is not anticipating her next move. Not only is it obvious, it’s the most logical in her position.

Her knee.

My balls .

You get the picture.

I see stars and fold over in agony, completely losing my grip on the gun. It clatters to the floor and swivels a few feet away. “Low blow,” I wheeze through the nauseating pang. “Even for you.”

Ivory scoffs a laugh as she catches her breath. “And shoving a gun down my throat wasn’t? Fuck you, Rio.”

“Hell no. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Just the thought makes my dick limp as fuck.”

“Sure didn’t seem that way two minutes ago, asshole.” She offers one of her infamous eye rolls as she says this and bends over to reclaim her weapon before heading for the door without another word.

“Hold up, where the fuck are you going?” I bark, forcing myself to breathe through the throbbing of my nuts and rise to full height. “This isn’t over yet. Amadeo’s shipment for your help. If not, I’m selling it and you can tell him I said so. You in, or nah?”

Stilling beneath the threshold, she scoffs haughtily and shoots me a murderous glare from over her shoulder, but I know I’ve got her. Hook, line, and sinker. “And what exactly is it that you want me to do?”

“That coffee house you like so much? Tomorrow, nine am. We’ll cover the details from A to Z.”

I can see the cogs working in her head, wondering how the hell I know about her spot. She doesn’t verbalize it, though. “Or how about we just do this now?”

“We could’ve, but you decided to play the big bad wolf.” Ambling around my desk, I fall into my seat and recline as far back as it’ll go, readjusting my still aching cock. “Take your ass home, calm the hell down, and we’ll revisit this conversation in the morning.”

“I don’t want my favorite coffee shop to go out of business because the spawn of Satan decided to tarnish it with his presence. Just get on with it already,” she leers, and now it’s me who rolls my eyes because here we go with her not being able to follow simple as fuck directions.

“Do we have a meeting or not?” I hedge impatiently.

Those caramel irises are still boring into me like lasers, but I can see the slightest resolve swirling in them. She’s going to be there, trust me .

“I’ll think about it.” And then she’s gone, slamming the door with as much muscle as she can manage.

It’s cute, really.

See you tomorrow, Petal.