Sinful Secrets (Savannah Sharks Hockey and Mafia #2)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

SPENCER

We’ve been on high alert since Francesca got shot, doing patrols three to four times a day and having an overnight watch at the shipyard.

Today is my day to drive around and check on our spots. I stop at the first stop, Mario’s Pizzeria. This is my favorite stop to make when doing rounds.

As soon as I walk through the doors, Mario and his wife, Lucia, greet me.

They are like family to me, so I’m always happy to come visit with them.

“How’s business been?”

Lucia glances at Mario before excusing herself. She walks through the open kitchen and disappears into the office. The door slams shut a few moments later.

“What’s going on, Mario?”

I’ve never seen Lucia like this. She always greets me with a motherly hug and we talk for a while.

“Business isn’t doing too well, to be honest, and we don’t have the money for the protection anymore. The neighborhood has gone downhill and customers don’t feel safe after dark.”

He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “Lucy and I have talked about selling the restaurant and moving somewhere safer, but the market is shit right now. We’d be upside down on the loan, but at least we’d be alive and safe, you know?”

“Damn. I had no clue you guys were having so many problems. What’s been going on? I thought we were doing patrols.”

He pulls out a chair and gestures for me to take a seat before sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

“You are doing patrols, but only during the daytime. That’s not when the problems arise.”

“Who’s causing the trouble? I’ll see that it gets taken care of.”

Even if I have to take care of the fuckers myself. Mario and Lucia don’t deserve this. They are the sweetest, most caring people I know.

“Some new gang. They call themselves The Emerald City Reapers.”

“I’ll look into it and make sure Arturo knows about the gang that’s causing problems.”

“Word on the street is they have it out for both the Marinos and the Rossis. They are young, dumb, and power hungry, not to mention irrational and impulsive. Be careful and watch your back.”

“I will. Thanks for the heads up. Call me the next time they show up, and I’ll take care of them and make sure they don’t come back.”

“What about the money for Arturo? I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

I shake my head and put my hand up to stop him. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let us handle this problem and get your business back to what it was and then we can figure out the money situation.”

“Are you sure?” He stares at me like he can’t believe what I just said.

“I’m sure. Please tell Lucia that I will handle everything, and next time, she doesn’t have to avoid me. I’m not the grim reaper coming with bad news.”

“Tell her yourself.” He grins before yelling, “Lucy! Come out here, would you?”

Several moments pass and no movement is heard from the office.

“It’s no problem, Mario. I understand things are up in the air and seeing me doesn’t bring happy feelings.”

“Nonsense.”

I stand and push my chair back in when the office door opens.

“Ah, good. Lucy, come here and say goodbye. Spencer is going to look into things and get us back on our feet.”

That’s a cosmic order, but I’ll try my damnedest to make it happen.

Lucia pulls me into a tight hug before placing a kiss on my cheek. “You are a good man, Spencer Reed.”

“Don’t be saving that out loud. People might think I’m soft or a pushover.” I laugh as she gives me a scowl.

“Are you hungry? Do you want some food for the road?”

“I’m alright, but thank you for the offer. I’ll swing by and eat dinner here sometime soon, as long as you don’t lock yourself in the office.”

She blushes, like she’s ashamed of herself. “I won’t, as long as you come back with some good news.”

“I’ll try my hardest to track them down.”

I wave bye and head back to my car. If this gang is as unpredictable as Mario warned, then we need to try to stop them before they grow any bigger.

Arturo won’t like being another target, but he’s making enormous waves here in Savannah, so it’s to be expected.

As I get to the next stop, an idea pops into my head. I grab my phone and call my financial advisor.

He answers on the first ring. “What can I do for you, Mr. Reed?”

“Hey, Mr. Williams, I was wondering if you could find out how much is left to pay on the Mario’s Pizzeria loan.”

“Do I even want to know why?”

I mentally roll my eyes. “I want to pay it off. Anonymously, of course.”

“Uh, what is your reason for this?” The sound of his fingers typing on his keyboard comes through the phone line.

“Besides the fact that I’m a multi-millionaire?” Why is this any of his business? I pay him great money for discretion and to not ask too many questions.

He panics. “Well, uh, I was just asking for tax purposes.”

“Charity. Investment. Splurge. You can decide. Mario and Lucia are thinking of selling and retiring so they can travel, but they owe more on the loan than what they think they can sell the restaurant for. I’d like to make their dreams come true.”

“That is very generous of you.”

“Can you make it happen?” If he can’t pay it off anonymously, I’ll write Mario and Lucia a check myself.

“I’m sure I can, but it may take five days up to a week.”

“Get it done in two days and I’ll triple your normal fee.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be in touch.”

I end the call and get out of my car.

Several men standing around bullshitting with one another glance my way as I walk to the front door of the laundromat.

The owner, Bruno, scurries into his office and slams the door closed.

“Son of a bitch.” I mumble as I pull my gun out of its holster and run around the counter.

Turning the doorknob, I try to push the door open, but it doesn’t budge. The fucker must have something against the door.

Pounding on the door, I yell, “Arturo is growing impatient with your excuses, Bruno. I’ll give you three days to pay up or life is going to get worse for you.”

I leave the laundromat and head next door to the insurance agency. Glancing through the storefront windows, I watch as a couple of guys inside walk toward the backdoor.

“Fuckers.”

I barge through the front door, and the other men immediately stand. I don’t know any of these men.

“Don’t start anything.” I warn with my pistol by my side.

The man closest to me holds his hands up. “Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble. Just take what you want and then leave.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not here to rob you.”

The man puts his hands down and lets out a shaky sigh. “Then who are you, what do you want, and why do you have a gun?”

“I’m here on behalf of Arturo Marino to collect your dues.”

Do they not know about the dues or are they trying to get out of paying them?

“The business can no longer pay for the Marino’s protection or supplies because the gang robbed us. They took all of our money and product.”

“What the fuck? Did you not have your guns on you, or are you too stupid?”

The guy glances around at his co-workers. “They caught us by surprise.”

“How?” I glare at each man, demanding to know how they could fuck up this badly.

How does a gang catch you by surprise at an office with an entire storefront of windows?

His gaze moves to the floor. “We were trying to make a deal with them to move some of the product.”

“Your product? Or Arturo’s product?” I don’t give a fuck about their own shit, but Arturo’s product is worth twenty grand, and he’s expecting the money.

“Both.”

“Fuck.” Rage fills my veins.

How are these guys so fucking incompetent? Is this what we can expect in the future? Because if so, Arturo and Joey are fucked.

“What gang was responsible?”

Deep in my gut, I know who they are about to say, but I need to hear him say it.

“The Emerald City Reapers.”

I grab my phone and call Joey.

“How is it going?” He asks, sounding out of breath. Ever since Francesca got shot, Joey has been in the gym every day.

“Not good. We’ve got trouble with a new gang. They call themselves the Emerald City Reapers, and they are hitting up all our spots.”

“I will take care of it. You can stop for now until I can get more information.”

“Alright, but call if you need anything.”

“Yeah.” He replies.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m a Marino. I have to be okay. I’ll call if I find anything.”

As he ends the call, I turn around and walk back to my car. No one is around. It’s like they all disappeared.

There’s no point in sticking around here, so I head toward the Savannah College of Art and Design museum. It’s been my sanctuary lately. The place that calms and re-centers me. No one knows I come here.

Except for Alvin, the security guard. He is also one of the security guards that work at the arena on game nights and special events.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Alvin says as soon as he sees me.

“I’m more of a wolf than a cat.” I tease.

“What’s going on? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here as much as you’ve been here this week and never this late in the day.”

I glance around at the large room, making sure no one can overhear. “We’ve been having trouble at some of the spots.”

“I’ve heard about some of it. It’s been the talk through the police channels for the past four days or so.”

Alvin is a retired police officer who has been on Arturo’s payroll since before I met either of them.

“Do you know anything about it or the gang responsible?”

“I haven’t heard shit. It’s been quiet. Too quiet.”

Shit. That’s bad news. If Alvin doesn’t know, then they are covering their tracks.

“How’s Avery?”

“Ah, same as always. Stubborn and independent.”

I met his daughter last year after she became an ice girl for the Savannah Sharks. She’s normally shy and quiet until she hits the ice. Then she becomes a force to be reckoned with.

The ice is her domain, and she lets everyone know.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. She’s about to graduate and start her life, so it’s good that she can be independent and take care of herself.”

His phone rings. With a quick glance at the screen, he chuckles. “Speaking of Avery.”

I give him a quick wave and head deeper inside the museum as he answers his phone. My body walks on autopilot to the back wall, where my favorite painting is.

No one ever comes back here. Hell, most of the time, the museum is pretty empty.

But this time, I’m not alone.

A petite red-headed woman is sitting on the bench where I usually sit that faces the painting I stare at. I’ve seen her here a time or two before. She usually walks around the sculptures, talking to people.

My gaze wanders over her. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her cheeks are a faint pink blush, like she’s been crying. Her ankle is wrapped up.

Did she hurt herself and that’s why she’s crying? Did someone die? Did she lose a job?

“Oh!” she exclaims when she notices me.

I immediately apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, you didn’t.” She wipes her tears away. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.”

I point to the other half of the bench. “Do you mind if I sit? I enjoy sitting here and thinking when I feel the need to decompress.”

Why am I telling her this? She doesn’t need to be burdened with my shit, nor does she need to know anything about me.

“Not at all. I’m Savannah, and I’m a student here. I’m a senior and studying fashion.” She sticks her hand out for a handshake.

Taking her hand, I say, “Spencer. Are you okay?”

My gaze moves to her wrapped ankle.

“Oh, this? Yeah, I clumsily missed a step and hurt it. Thankfully, Alvin had this wrap. I’m normally not clumsy, but I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like your fashion career?”

“Yeah. It might not actually happen.” Her gaze drops to the floor as more tears fall.

So her tears aren’t solely for her hurt ankle. Why isn’t her fashion career going to happen? Why do I even care?

After she composes herself, she turns toward me with a soft smile on her perfectly symmetrical face. Her green eyes shimmer in the light, like a gem.

“So what keeps you coming here? Is it this painting? Is something bothering you with work?”

“What do you mean?” I blurt out while staring into her green orbs, like I’m hypnotized.

“I’ve seen you here every day for the past week. You always come in, walk straight to the back of the museum, and sit here on the bench. Sometimes you are only here for a few minutes, and sometimes you are here longer than I can stay.”

She’s been watching me?

Does she know who I am?

It’s not abnormal for a fan to notice me outside of the arena, but usually they say hello, ask for a picture, and ask for an autograph. Not watch me like a stalker.

She blinks her tears away as she waits for my answer. She doesn’t seem threatening, so I tell her the truth.

“I feel drawn to this painting. Just the way the artist painted himself in many ways feels like different facets of the same person and I relate to it.”

The painting is a man dressed up as a golfer, surfer, party animal, and businessman. He painted himself in all different angles as if he’s falling.

That’s how I feel sometimes. There’s so many sides of me I can’t share with anyone, and yet, it feels as if I am falling through life, waiting for the next obstacle to hit me.

She gazes at the painting, studying it for a few moments before nodding. “I can see that. I always thought it was his hopes and dreams. He hopes he can become a successful businessman and dreams of retiring to play golf or go surfing.”

“Interesting interpretation of the painting.”

“That’s what I love about art. Everyone can interpret it in a different way. It means something different for everyone.”

“I’ve never really been into art.”

“Then why do you come here? Are you in between jobs?”

I chuckle. “No, I have a job.”

Multiple, actually.

“Woman problems?”

I shake my head. “I’d have to have a woman in order to have woman problems.”

“So, you’re single, employed, and hot as hell?” Her eyes widen and her face turns red as she realizes what she just said. “Forget I even said that, okay?”

“No way. It’s been too long since a woman openly ogled me and called me hot.”

My phone goes off with a text from Rhett.

No word on the gang yet. See if you can find out anything.

I send a quick reply.

I’ll see if I can find anything.

I just want to forget about all of it for a while, especially since they went on a mission during a game and left me and Joey out of it.

Joey has enough on his plate, but I didn’t like being passed over. Not after everything I’ve done for them. I still don’t know everything that went down, but it was bad enough for Francesca to be shot.

“Is that work? I can leave you alone so you can relax and stare at the painting.”

“Work never ends.” I let out a soft laugh as I glance at my watch before asking, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her answer. The museum is about to close, and I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to get to know Savannah more.

I’ve never felt this nervous before and I’ve killed men! I shouldn’t want to be around her like this. I barely know her, but something about the pureness in her eyes draws me in.

She looks unsure for a few moments before grinning. “I’d love to.”