Trigger (Pericolo #3)
TRIGGER
The Pericolo Series
Kirsty-Anne Still
TRIGGER
The Pericolo Series
KINDLE EDITION
Copyright © 2014 Kirsty-Anne Still
Cover design – Cover It Designs – Arijana Karčić
All rights reserved. Please keep this book in its complete original form with the exception of quotes used in reviews. No alteration of the contents is allowed. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying) recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This is a New Adult Contemporary Romance novel recommended for readers over the age of 18 due to sexual themes, swearing and violence. Due to the theme of organized crime and graphic murder scenes, it is in the readers discretion to read this book. You have been warned it is for an older audience.
Also by Kirsty-Anne Still:
THE FIRE SERIES
A Fire That Burns.
Watch What Burns – SEQUEL to ‘A Fire That Burns’.
THE VIPER SERIES
Saturdays At The Viper Series – Book one in The Viper Series.
The Runaway Viper – Book Two in The Viper Series.
Coming soon:
The Viper’s Bite – Book three in The Viper Series –2016.
THE SECRET SERIES
Your Little Secret – Co-written with Bethan Cooper
Coming soon:
Your Killer Secret
THE PERICOLO SERIES
Femme Fatale – Book one in The Pericolo Series
Femme Fatale Reloaded – Book two in The Pericolo Series
Coming soon:
Femme Fatale Loved – Book three in The Pericolo Series – expected late 2015/early 2016
Femme Fatale Finale – Book four in The Pericolo Series – expected late 2015/early 2016
Mobbed – The Pericolo Series – 2016
Contents
Also by Kirsty-Anne Still:
1 - DANTE
2 - RYLEIGH
3 - DANTE
4 - RYLEIGH
5 - DANTE
6 - RYLEIGH
7 - DANTE
8 - RYLEIGH
9-DANTE
10 - RYLEIGH
11 - DANTE
12 - RYLEIGH
13-DANTE
14 - RYLEIGH
15 - DANTE
16 - RYLEIGH
17 - DANTE
18 - RYLEIGH
19-DANTE
20-RYLEIGH
21-DANTE
22-RYLEIGH
23-DANTE
24-RYLEIGH
THE PERICOLO SERIES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1DANTE
“Dante, don’t!”
The pitiful squeal does nothing to appeal to my softer side as I dangle the fucking cretin from the top of a building. From this angle, he looks even more pathetic than ever with the blood rushing to his head, his nose streaming as he snivels and pleads for his life. I used to highly value this man, and now my respect for him doesn’t even amount to a morsel of pity.
“Don’t what?” I ask, leering at him. “Remind you that you tried to do fuck over the Valens?” I ask, leaning him further over the edge. He shouts again, asking me to rethink, to pull him back to safety, but I refuse. “Should I not remind you who paid your paycheck so you could wear designer suits like the one you’re going to fucking die in?” I lean down, joining him in the downward position. With my hot and heavy breath, I start heaving in his ear with my palpable anger. “Should I not remind you the valuable fucking lessons you knew would happen when you did shit to remember your place?”
“I just wanted out!” he yells back, sniffling.
“Then you should have fucking said please!” I say, sitting up only to start pushing him further off the ledge. Every muscle in my arms pulls tight, contracting with the strain of his body weight as he struggles to get away from the looming death awaiting him. I lean in, forcing him a little further down. “You should’ve known full well that this was the payment you’d get in the end if you ever fucked up!” As I pull away, I force James’ body further down, allowing him to slip as far as my strength and grip will allow.
He’s still whimpering, crying like a fucking baby. Once you walk into our line of work, you know the deal – full commitment, or you lose your fucking balls – the latter being the easiest of punishments. But just for James, since he threatened more than most, his comeuppance is a breathless one.
“Now, James, do you regret it?”
“No!” he yells over the overtones of traffic below and gusting winds.
I laugh, looking over at my cousin as he stands on the sidelines.
“Not only is our friend here a rat, but he’s also a fucking liar too, Tommy!” I mock, watching Tommy laugh a little. I notice he’s uncomfortable, but I have no time for weak bastards in my line of work. “He needs to know he can’t be both! Fuck, he can’t be either when he works for the great Marcello.” I turn back, my face full of thunder, my lungs burning with rage. “Every charlatan fears death, so don’t begin to try and make me believe you’re the only man who doesn’t! It’s written all over your face, James. You know full well that I’m going to be the man who makes you meet your maker!”
I continue to tease, except James fights too much and slips a little further than I would like. I grab onto him by his waistband, linking my fingers through his belt as he falls. This isn’t part of my plan; I didn’t actually want the fucker to fall to his death. That’s too easy. It’s also too public and will result in my ass being punished. As I struggle to pull the fully-grown man upwards, I grunt with the fight before looking over my shoulder for the only aid I have.
“Fucking help me!” I bark at Tommy, not willing to let this betraying bastard fall from my grip. The sweat on my palms causes James slide a little more from me, and I grunt, struggling not to fall with the bastard.
Tommy comes to life just as I’ve managed to get two strong hands on James and pull hard. I struggle, but instead of letting James fall to his demise, I yank back hard, pulling him back from the ledge. I don’t do it out of remorse or salvation, but rather, I do it to prolong his agony. I throw him back toward the middle of the rooftop and stand up. I look at my cousin and with a guttural tone, growl at him for his inability to be one of the boys.
“As much as I would’ve loved it, I won’t throw you to your death, you fucking waste of space,” I remark, taking a strategic step forward. I put my hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around my switchblade. “Shame you, I prefer it bloodier and with fewer witnesses.”
“Dante,” he pleads, getting onto his knees. “I just wanted a fresh start.”
“Well, the way you did it wasn’t the cleverest, cunt!” I remark, feeling my blood boil. “You got found out, James, and you know what happens now. And it sure isn’t a fucking retirement payout.”
As I take another step toward him, the desperate man leaps to his feet to take a staggered step back. He looks pleadingly back and forth between Tommy and me as he wonders which Valentino will save him first. Seeing more opportunity in Tommy than myself, he steps toward him, pushing me and forcing the knife from my hand. Desperation is not becoming of him right now and it’s only magnifying my agitation.
“I won’t die alone!” he bellows, taking one final stand. “I won’t let
your family get away with this!”
He decides to go for the weaker of us two, targeting my cousin. If he’s going to die, then he’s going to take one of us with him, and he’s not scared to attempt it. He just doesn’t know the real me. He knows the Dante Valentino that waltzes around the mansion like a prince. He has never had to witness the gritty, dangerous, killer Dante that I reserve for special fucking occasions.
But he’s about to.
As he makes his idiotic choice, I make my move. I lunge for the knife, and while mid-run, I launch myself at the desperate man, tackling him down onto the graveled rooftop. He struggles to go down in one heap and fights back with every last ebb of energy he has left. I know I cannot tolerate a man who doesn’t accept his fate.
So, I cut that bastard’s throat.
***
Fresh from the kill, I bask in the glory so vehemently; I have to remember to breathe past the adrenaline causing my entire being to buzz. As the blood runs down my arms, trailing across my fingers and dripping onto the ground, I tilt my face up to the sky. I soak in the beams of the sun and lock my latest victory in fire.
"That's how you do it," I muse, bringing my head back down to look at my cousin’s face. "You want to be the best then you have to kill the best. That's what he wants. None of this bullet to the brain, quick death bullshit, Tommy. If you want to work your way up, then think about the way the blood flows. You need to start thinking like one of the men, not like a little fucking boy."
“But he had a family,” Tommy murmurs, looking down.
I chuckle, turning back to approach him. He stands before me, rigid and timid of what he’s training to become. Unlike me, he had a plush upbringing, nursed by love, mollycoddled by parents who knew his destiny but kept it on lockdown until his father, like so many before, was prepared to train him.
“You think he cared about us when he was getting ready to bring down an empire made for our family?” I ask, playing devil’s advocate. “It’s time you thought like a hitman, Tommy. Things like him,” I say, pointing to the cadaver beside us, “are a matter of survival. Life is about survival. Have you been taught nothing?”
“I guess,” Tommy whispers, and I watch as nervousness overtakes him. “How do you do it?”
“Experience,” I utter, my tone turning deadly. “You know everything I’ve been through. Look what happened to my family,” I start as the growl in my chest grows. “I survived for reasons no one can begin to tell me, but it taught me that you trust no one but yourself. Never forget the devil was once an angel. Those people who murdered my family were meant to be an alliance with us, not an enemy. So, I know you never trust anyone. You kill to make sure your future is secure and in the family you were born into, Tommy; you’ll do better to remember that more than anything.” I watch him gravely stare. My words and my attitude cause him to think fast, to listen. “You keep people on your side because they’re expendable. Everyone you make contact with is always useful in some way. Our friend there was good for his time with us, but once you step on the wrong Valentino, you deal with them all. We are a wrath worse than death.”
I notice he still doesn’t quite get it.
“You’re still young. You’ll learn who to care about and who deserves a cut to the throat,” I remark, no love lost. “Cunts like him deserve to be left breathless by the likes of us. He threatened everything and everyone, and this is penance. If one falls, we all fall, so we have to do everything in our power to make sure that never happens.”
I walk off, going over to the edge of the rooftop and looking out at the Brooklyn skyline. This is my city, my kingdom, the one my family has invaded and become saviors with hidden demons. In public, we’re the nicest of Italians. In the shadows, we’re all absolutely batshit crazy. I watch as the sun courses an orange horizon over the buildings, through the streets, readying for the night to crawl its way across the city.
"Death at dusk," I remark, grinning wildly at my view. "There is nothing more beautiful than death at dusk."
"Why?" he asks, causing a laugh to spill from me. "I don't understand."
"There is nothing more enlightening than striking a kill as day meets night. There's still that warmth, that glory of sunlight, and the shadows aren't quite yet catching up with us. It's that breaking of darkness ebbing into the light that gives you power. It’s the fun that the night offers." I look at him, watching to see if he understands. "And there's one thing that you can never feel better about... there is nothing better than outrunning the darkness, Tommy. You'll do well to remember this."
I look back out at the sunset once more and sigh. Life couldn't feel more empowering than this.
"Death at dusk."
Nothing can beat this.
“What about his body, though?” Tommy asks, breaking my delicious reverie. “It’s getting dark, and he can’t stay up here.”
“Good thinking, smartass,” I mock, nudging him. “We call the repo men,” I joke, chortling a little. “As you get older, you’ll get to know the contacts. Barney and the guys are pretty damn efficient. We use the same guys as the Abbiati’s do, so they’re pretty well experienced in this field.”
“Is that Amelia’s family?” he asks, smirking, thinking of the beauty who stands firm in that family.
“She’s far too much woman for you,” I tell him, mocking him enough to stop the blood rushing straight to his penis. “We all know how hard you get for her, but she is a woman well out of your league, so back off.”
“Is that because you want her? We’ve all seen how you two are around one another.”
I laugh again, a little harder than before. He has a lot to learn in this life and a lot to lose. “I don’t do relationships, Tommy, especially ones that involve her.”
“Why not?” he asks, pestering onward. “She’s got a bastard attitude like you, Dante. You’re a match made in heaven.”
“You do not want to mess with a crazy bitch like Amelia Abbiati,” I tell him, enlightening him again to the ways of a real Femme Fatale. “Do that and you might as well become a fast fan of public castration.”
“She’s not that bad,” Tommy admonishes, rolling his eyes.
“Just go and ask Nonno.” I go to continue, to elaborate a tall-tale of Amelia, but my phone starts to ring. I reach into my pocket with a bloodied hand and pull my iPhone out, immediately clicking answer. “You know I’m busy?” I ask, listening to my business partner ramble down the line at me the moment I’ve inhaled. “Jackson, slow down! What the fuck is going on?” I turn away from Tommy, struggling to listen to my partner’s frantic words. “Look, I can be there in the next half hour. Just get him out of my fucking club before I get there and get her calmed down.” I end the call and look at my cousin. “I need to get down to the club. I have business to attend.”
“Can I come with you?” he asks, hopeful optimism igniting in his eyes.
“No, kid, you’re going home to clean up,” I retort, sternly depriving him of any fun. “I’m taking you to make sure you actually get there, and then I’m taking a shower and heading to work.”
“If that’s your job, then what’s this?” he asks, pointing back at the dead body.
I chuckle again, shaking my head that Tommy hasn’t yet grasped the point of our lives. He hasn’t noticed how we all grew up. Maybe it’s the age gap, the difference in upbringing, and the fact I stood no chance with sanity, but he really needs to get his head out of his ass and take in his birthright.
So, I impart the one word that sums up everything. “Inheritance.”
2RYLEIGH
I didn’t realize I’d be late for work because of this.
I tilt my head to the side, sigh heavily, and uncross my legs only to cross them the other way, all obvious signs of my impatience. Except Derek – my very own time waster – doesn’t take the hint! Instead, I continue to watch as Derek paws his way through the paperwork, skimming the words and mumbling as he goes.
His chiselled face is not from beauty but fr
om years of nicotine abuse that have aged him. His voice made huskier by the toxins and his eyes traced with wrinkles, one chasing after the other.
I’ve only met this man once and that was to initiate my business with him. However, I now wish I had told him to maintain our business strictly through phone calls. I clear my throat, shifting in my seat once more, and I wonder if it’s imperative for me to pay extortionate rates when I have to tolerate the foul body odor this asshole emits.
“Right.” Derek breaks the silence, his eyes slowly rolling up to look at me. “Ryleigh, I don’t know how to broach this subject with you.”
“Maybe with a little less pausing,” I quip, my irritation shining. “Just tell me you found something for the amount of money I’m spending on you.”
“I found something.” He speaks with a deadpan expression. “Do you not have any idea of your past?”
“If you mean do I know it was violent, then yes,” I remark, keeping my eyes trained on him. “The details weren’t something that followed me foster home to foster home.” I clear my throat, and an ebb of self-consciousness rushes over me. My abandonment was always something that chased me into the nights, continued to make me feel alone in a busy world, and challenged me when it came to relationships. “I know I was the sole survivor of a home invasion, but I wasn’t told anything and I haven’t tried to find out until now.”
“You weren’t meant to be,” Derek states dryly.
Now, my annoyance lessens as he’s gained my interest.
“What do you mean?”
“Ryleigh, your family was killed in a crime wave that rushed through New York twenty-one years ago. You and one other boy were the only ones out of so many who survived.”
“So, what are you telling me? I’ve won a grand prize or something?”
I inwardly wince as my sarcasm gets the better of me, but I’m between annoyance and clock watching. Derek’s not doing a good job of delivering the news quickly and efficiently to me.