Page 43 of Chasing Kit

He made a weird, obnoxious sound, and it took me a moment to realize he was trying to mimic the animal. I huffed out a laugh and shoved his chest. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot, and a winning one at that.” He winked and pulled me to him again. Water cascaded down his shoulders as he drew me close, his skin warm and slick beneath my palms. He pressed his mouth against mine, and I curled my arms around his neck. He kissed me hard, yet gently—something I didn’t think was possible, but it always seemed to be with War. His lips were addicting, and the scratch of his stubble elicited a moan from me. “No matter what, I have your back.”

I hummed in pleasure. “You’re so sexy. Let’s stay here forever.”

He chuckled against my mouth. “I wish we could, baby.”

13

KIT

The next morning, War and I went sightseeing. Although War considered St. Loren dangerous, he sweetly agreed to tour the city with me, since I’d never been there. He remained vigilant, gaze tracking those around us as if they were a high-level threat planning my demise, yet he held my hand and was the perfect guide. We had lunch at a Mexican restaurant, where I devoured the most delicious enchiladas I’d ever tasted.

By afternoon, War had grown quiet. His muscles were taut, and he gritted his teeth like a man facing execution. I didn’t blame him. I was tense, too, knowing nothing about Sabbatini. We were in an Uber, almost at Sabbatini’s house, or so War said. He lived in the Émeraude District, and everything about the place was pretentious. The houses were contemporary, visibly full of new money families that stared a little too suspiciously at the small Ford we were being driven in.

“You let me talk,” War murmured, his voice low enough to escape the Uber driver’s notice. “He’s manipulative and careful. I know him. I’ll answer any questions for us.”

I nodded, trusting War to protect me. As silly as it sounded, I wasn’t overly worried, largely because War was with me. Perhaps knowing my dad’s power also made me think Sabbatini wouldn’t want to provoke him.

The house we pulled up to was past a tall iron fence, open for our convenience, and was more a mansion—massive. The building was straight lines and sharp edges, which seemed appropriate for a mob boss’s home, I supposed. I couldn’t help but lean over War to gape at it through the window.

The Uber driver whistled. “Damn, man, that’s one nice place.”

I had to agree.

War slid out first, and I was right behind him. He grabbed my wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Stay behind me. If someone pulls a gun, take cover. No exceptions. Got it?”

I wanted to argue, to say I wouldn’t take cover unless he did, too, but I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t win. He looked good today in worn jeans, military boots, and a green T-shirt that clung to his muscles in all the right places. His dog tags were visible above his collar. They must be his armor.

We walked to the white front doors, but before we could knock, it opened. The man in the doorway looked like someone from the mafia. He was tall, though not as tall as War, and wore a charcoal gray suit that molded to his body. With short dark hair, a trimmed beard, and sun-kissed skin, he was, I supposed, handsome. But it was his eyes that captured my attention—cold and blue, they regarded us with a scary mix of intrigue and suspicion.

War tensed farther in front of me. “Massimo.”

The man—Massimo, apparently—smirked and stepped aside. He said nothing, simply watching us as he gestured us inside. I followed War into the white foyer with golden trims, feeling utterly out of place. This house was something out of a dream, with elaborate chandeliers and paintings I was sure cost a fortune.

“My brother is waiting for you in his office.” Massimo’s voice was deep and dark, his Southern accent curling around the words. He strode ahead, and War slipped his hand into mine before following. Massimo led us through a hallway and past a formal living room. We headed to the right, straight to a set of scarlet wooden doors. Massimo didn’t knock.

As we stepped inside, War stopped, causing me to halt.

I peered around War’s shoulder, taking in the room. The office was nice, if simplistic in its design. Black was everywhere, from the walls to the marble floors. A deep brown rug lay beneath an ash wooden desk, and the left wall was entirely windows, looking out onto a large lap pool. Behind the desk sat another man in a suit, very similar in appearance to Massimo, which told me this was Riccardo.

In the center of the room was a large black, leather U-shaped couch, occupied by a woman and two other men. They all bore a striking resemblance, with the same dark hair, stern expressions, and similar facial features.

“Mr. Briggs.” Riccardo smiled, sending a shiver of fear down my spine. Unlike Massimo, he had brown eyes and a faded haircut, and he was dressed to impress—or intimidate. “Welcome to St. Loren. You remember my brothers and sister. Santino—” The man he pointed at had more hair and a curious look. “Tommaso—” This one had a meaner expression and bared his teeth like a rabid animal. “And Gaia.” The woman was pretty. Her hair was lighter than her brothers’, and she wore deep red lipstick that matched her crimson dress. Silver dangle earrings sparkled under the lights. She was petite, but I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, not with the way she smiled.

Their names meant nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. I still didn’t know who they were, except that they were mafia. I’d never expected to find myself standing before mobsters, but here I was. Like fucking prey.

Gaia tilted her head, staring at me from around War. “Is this cutie really Sky’s big brother?”

At the mention of Sky, I tensed and stepped out from behind War. “You know Sky?”

War hissed at me between his teeth. “Kit⁠—”

“Of course, we know him. My cousin is quite fond of him, though we’ve only just met.” She crossed her legs and leaned back against the couch. Her fingernails were as red as her dress and lipstick. Part of me imagined she liked the color because it reminded her of blood. “He is a darling. Very good-looking.”

Tommaso snorted. “If you like them pretty.”

“Why are we here?” War demanded, holding out an arm in front of me. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”