71
LONDON
Everything was intense around here. My heart raced. I felt like I would suffer from a heart attack at a young age if I stayed longer in this place while Striker seemed relaxed in his seat.
“Why? What’s wrong?” My senses heightened as I asked Reed.
“Use the back door if something happens.” He rushed to get out of the coffee shop and approached the black SUV.
When Striker rose to his feet, I held him on the wrist. “Don’t go out there.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, Cade. Sit down, or I’m coming with you.”
“Alright.” He went back to his seat. “You’re bossy even not in bed.”
“Stop with your innuendos, Cade. This is not the right time for jokes.” I knew what he was trying to do. He saw the fear in my eyes.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Vanderford.”
“I know that, but I won’t let anything happen to you either.” My words put a smile on his face. Then I noticed Reed was coming back.
“They’re here for you.”
“What do you mean?” Striker asked, his gaze still pinned outside.
“Order from your father.”
Once he settled the bill, we went to the rental car.
“I got the address. We’re meeting your fathers there,” Reed informed Striker.
“Are you sure that’s not a trap?” I asked. It would be better to be safe than feel sorry.
“He gave me the code. Only Mr. Braddson knows me about it.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Reed parked in front of the classic house. The SUV parked behind us.
“So we’re going to the house of one of the most dangerous people in Italy. Great,” I said as I got out of the car.
“It’s gonna be okay. Pa won’t ever risk us if he knows we’re not safe.”
Three guys climbed out of the SUV, gesturing us to follow.
The door opened wide. The house was old from the outside but was decorated with a beautiful and classy Italian interior. It was full of warmth, as if a crime family did not live there. I wondered how many people died in this place.
I instantly saw Moses sitting in a light conversation with a man around his age, but I couldn’t see his whole face. Then three guys were gone with Reed, but another man came from the door. He was older than Striker, around Linden’s age. He looked handsome in a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbow, and he was tall as Striker’s with golden skin, a straight nose, deep-seated dark eyes, thick eyebrows, and his five o’clock shadow somewhat trimmed stylishly.
The man with Moses stood up, buttoning his suit. His posture expressed everything. He was Gaetano Siciliano. Striker went to them as his father introduced him to the mafia boss.
“I wish we met under different circumstances. Your father saved my life, and I am forever grateful to him and his family, including you, Striker.”
“It’s my pleasure meeting you, Mr. Siciliano.” He shook Gaetano’s hand firmly. “Thank you for your help.”
“His wife, London.”
I stepped to Striker’s side and shook the hand he offered. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping my father.”
He gripped it and didn’t it go. “I give you my word that no one will ever put you in any harm.” His Italian accent was very thick, and he looked proud of his background.
“Thank you, sir.” He finally let my hand go.
“This is my son, Terzo.”
So, he was the son. Terzo looked like he always carried the world on his shoulder.
“The infamous Striker Cade.” He shook Striker’s hand. “It’s an honor.” If I didn’t know he was a mafia’s son, I would have thought he grew up in the U.S. with his noticeable American accent, particularly in Queens.
“Terzo.”
Then he looked at me, really looked at me. His full lips spread to a smile as if memorizing my face. “London Vanderford. You’re quite beautiful in person than in your Instagram.”
“London Vanderford-Cade.”
“Careful, son or her husband is gonna cut your head and bring it to me.” Wow. Gaetano really had a sense of humor. It made me shiver.
“Please, have a seat,” he said before he went to his father and excused himself.
“I apologize for my son’s dry sense of humor,” Gaetano told Striker.
“It’s all good, Mr. Siciliano.”
“Where’s my father?” I asked Striker, but everyone seemed to hear my question.
“Don’t worry, cara. He will be here shortly,” Terzo replied.
“Is he gonna be okay?”
“Yes, honey. He is fine,” this time Moses answered.
“Are you okay?” Striker whispered.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve been gripping my hand.”
“I’m sorry.” I loosened my hand around his.
“It’s okay, baby.” He wrapped his arm around me and kissed the side of my head. Terzo quickly noticed Striker’s gesture which made me a little uncomfortable.
“So, Striker, are you ready to run the Hover?” Gaetano asked.
“I just started as the director of the research, sir. I don’t think I would be ready for that in a few years, and my father is not resigning anytime soon.”
“You always have to prepare for everything.”
“I understand, sir. There’s no guarantee of our life today or if we still wake up tomorrow. We have to make the best of it.”
“He’s ready. A good young man,” impressed, he told Moses, then looked at Striker. “My son has been groomed to be the next in line. It’s a curse sometimes, filling a father’s shoe, but this is a family business. How’s Tate doing?”
“He’s doing great, sir. Thank you.”
“They’re here,” Terzo announced as he looked down at his phone, maybe reading a text message.
A few moments later, the door opened. Linden walked in first. I’d never felt such relief until I saw my father.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” I hugged him so tight. I didn’t know how did I get in there so fast.
“I’m fine, honey. What are you doing here?” Then he saw Moses and Gaetano, who was already standing.
“Thank you so much,” I said to Gaetano, who nodded.
“You left us,” Striker hugged Linden in relief.
“Sorry, brother, but I have an order.”
“Go get in the car, son. Take London with you. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Striker hesitated, but Moses didn’t give him a chance to argue. Once we were outside, I let go of a huge breath. Reed got in the car, and I quickly went to the backseat.
When Striker got in, I hugged him so tight. I suddenly felt overwhelmed and extremely happy.
“What was that for?”
“I can’t believe I’m happy to see Dad is okay—” I was startled at the knock on the window. To my shock, it was Terzo. His stare alone was disturbing. I rolled the window down. “Can I help you?”
Terzo glanced at Reed first, then Striker, who was already pissed off, groaning beside me. I put my hand on my husband’s thigh to calm him.
“If he ever hurt you, I will fucking kill him myself?” That was what he said, which was out of context. “You are under my protection now.”
Striker leaned forward so that he could come face-face with Terzo, making me beyond terrified. “Well, asshole, if you don’t stop looking at my wife the way you are doing right now, I will fucking gouge your eyeballs one by one from the back of your skull and send them to your father. And she doesn’t need your protection. Do you fucking understand me? Now back the fuck off.”
Terzo chuckled with a smile. He had straight pearly white teeth. And he actually smiled. He really looked attractive. “I like you, Striker Cade. You’re a good man.”
