Page 1 of Avenging Azalea

Chapter

One

TITUS

THREE YEARS AGO

“Yes, I’m almost to the meet.”

My father was particularly neurotic tonight, and I didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t said why. Other than the same old ‘You can’t trust Cesare’ routine, there hadn’t been anything new.

“And before you ask, I have my girls with me and brought the guards as you instructed.”

“I hear the disdain in your tone, Titus. The guards have guns. Your dogs only have teeth.”

I’d take the teeth defending me over the guns any day. My girls’ loyalty couldn’t be questioned, guns not so much.

“Besides, you can’t be too careful when dealing with Cesare. The man is a paranoid idiot,” he snarled.

Pot-meet-kettle was all that ran through my mind. My father had many issues, but suspicion and a thirst for power were neck and neck, depending on the day.

“I’ll let you know once I have the payment. Did you ever get an answer as to why Cesare couldn’t just wire you the money?”

“Titus, you don’t simply wire a half million in illegal gambling money.” I rolled my eyes. We made transactions larger than that daily, so that was complete bullshit. “Cesare said that the guy gave him physical payment that needed to be picked up.”

I didn’t believe that either. Two pairs of eyes reflected the dash light in the rearview mirror. Daisy and Bella were sitting up in the very back, their massive heads shrouded in darkness. I could see why everyone thought they were scary. It was exactly why I loved them. You wouldn’t find two better guards.

“So, what you’re saying is that I could be walking into a trap? Great. Tell me straight. Do you think he is planning on killing me?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, Titus.” I shook my head, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. Me? Unbelievable. “Cesare owes me and doesn’t want a war. It won’t come to that.”

Sure, like my death would cause a war. The only son he would fight for was Ronan, and only because Ronan was his best ‘yes’ man. There was nothing my father loved more than having someone ask how high when he said, ‘jump.’

“Then why are you so worried?” The line remained silent, and I knew he was trying to come up with a lie. “It’s fine. I’m almost there. I’ll call when it’s done. Whatever happens, happens.”

I hung up before he had a chance to respond. Not that I was actually worried. Of all my family members, I was the least likely to be killed or captured by the Mancinis. After some friendly negotiating, I usually ended up on the golf course instead of the wrong end of a gun.

Signaling, I pulled off the dark industrial road and checked the buildings for the right number. The further I drove, the more rundown and seedier everything became.

“Maybe I was wrong, and there is something to worry about,” I said, glancing in my rear-view mirror as Bella tilted her head. “Not you, girl.”

The only other light in this part of town came from the two vehicles filled with guards following me. People were not as reliable as dogs, but my father insisted that I bring them as a show of force. I much preferred the honey-over-vinegar approach, but some shit just wasn’t worth fighting over when it came to Father.

The windows on the building were smashed, and the front lawn was overgrown when I found my destination. Driving around to the back as instructed, I spotted Fat Ricky outside smoking with a guy that I assumed was another guard. I’d dealt with Ricky in the past, and he was…fine, if not a little dense sometimes.

I pulled up in a strategic position to make a fast escape if needed, but running from a hail of bullets was something I wanted to avoid.

Four guards met me and fanned out as I exited my vehicle.

“Give me some breathing room,” I ordered. They each took a single step back, making me roll my eyes. Guess it was better than nothing.

Hitting the unlock button for the SUV hatch, it slowly lifted. My two girls waited for their cue to jump down. Cane Corsos were a large breed, but both Bella and Daisy exceeded standards, reaching almost two hundred pounds.

At my hand signal, they jumped down. “Ryadom,” I said, walking toward the entrance. The Mancini’s men eyed my dogs as they padded along beside me.

“Ricky,” I said, holding out my hand in greeting. He shook it but kept his wary eyes down like the dogs were going to suddenly jump on him and rip his arm from its socket. They would if they thought he was a threat or if I gave the command.

“We were expecting Dimitri,” Ricky said, smiling.