When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)

The sound of a gunshot rattles inside my skull. I can feel the vibration travel down my spine, sending shivers through my body. Time seems to slow down.

“Hello? Hello?” I shout into the phone, but the only thing I hear back is Blake’s stomach-curdling scream. And then the call drops.

I toss the phone on the passenger seat and slam my foot on the gas, running through a red light.

I speed down the street, dodging traffic, my heart pounding in my chest.

What am I going to find when I get back home? Did they shoot Blake? Is she already dead?

The thought makes me gasp for breath, but I push it away, focusing on the road.

Finally, I screech to a halt outside my house. Without even turning off the engine, I jump out of the car and race up to the porch. Blake’s car is in the driveway, and so is Sandro’s.

The door to the house is open.

I sprint inside, my heart in my throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How did this happen? If they hurt a hair on Blake’s head, I’m going to fucking destroy them.

I barge inside, and the first thing I see freezes me in my tracks. The house is deathly quiet.

And I see him.

Sandro. My partner. My friend.

His body’s in a pool of blood. There’s a hole in his forehead.

“No,” I say even though there’s no one to hear me. “Fuck. No!”

A torrent of emotions swirls inside my chest, but I don’t have time to indulge them, so I lock them all away.

I need to find Blake.

Her phone lies discarded a few feet away from Sandro. The screen’s shattered as if someone stepped on it.

I search the house, looking for any trace of her, but there’s none.

Back in the hallway, I slide Blake’s broken phone into my pocket and sink to my knees beside Sandro. Pressure builds behind my eyes. When I touch him, he’s still warm.

They killed him in front of her just minutes ago. This is why she screamed.

If I’d just stayed put, I might have still been home when she came back.

I could have protected her and Sandro.

His eyes are open. I reach over and close them.

I’ve killed many men and watched even more get killed. But this death feels different. It feels wrong. We came to Darkwater Hollow so that we could live.

And Sandro did live. He had an entire fucking life here. He was seeing someone. He wanted a family.

I get to my feet with a pained groan. It feels like it comes from the very depths of me.

They will pay for this. I won’t rest until I remove every single man responsible for this from the face of the earth.

I’ll find Blake. And then I’ll kill them all.

My phone rings. It’s an unknown number, but somehow, I just know who it is.

The man who’ll soon regret every single one of the choices that led him to this moment.

“How do you feel about road trips?” Lyle’s voice crackles over the line.

“If you touch a hair on her head, I will rip out your throat with my bare hands.”

Lyle chuckles. “Blake’s ex wouldn’t leave me alone until I showed your photo around. He’s an annoying prick, but he’s got good instincts, I’ll give him that. He said your background check came back empty, and his contact in the police wouldn’t agree to run your photo through their facial-recognition system, so he came to us. We don’t take orders from guys like him, but when we saw that video of you pointing a gun at him, our curiosity was piqued. He mentioned you said you came from New York, so I showed your photo to someone I know who rides around those parts. A member of the Black Talons. He recognized you right away.”

I clench my jaw. Fuck. I know the Black Talons. We’ve worked with them in the past.

“If you want Blake to live, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

“Let me talk to her,” I demand.

“She passed out when we shot your friend. Still hasn’t come around. Her skin’s so fucking soft, like a baby’s ass.”

Anger blurs my vision. “If you know who I am, you should realize taunting me is not a good idea. Or are you just that fucking stupid?”

“Yeah, I know who you are. That’s why we took her. We don’t want a confrontation with you, Nero. We want this to be a civilized affair. If you follow my instructions, Blake will be just fine.”

I pace the hall. “What do you want?”

“You’re going to drive yourself to New York and meet us there. You’re coming home, Nero. How does Staten Island sound?”

That’s Ferraro’s territory. “When?”

“Take your time. Bury your friend. We’ll see you there in two days. December twenty-eighth, at noon. I’ll call you that morning with the exact address.”

Two days? Fuck that. “I’ll come to you now. Wherever you are.”

“You’re not listening to me, and you need to if you want Blake to survive. You’re going to drive yourself to Staten Island, and that’s where we’ll meet.”

They don’t want to transport me there themselves. Why would they? It’s risky. Lyle’s right to be afraid of me, so he wants me to deliver myself straight to the man who’ll pay Lyle his finder’s fee. “She doesn’t need to be involved in this. I’ll go there whether you hold her hostage or not.”

“They said you’re a smooth talker, but I don’t know about that. It feels like you’re feeding me shit. We both know that if I let her go, you’ll take her and run.”

And kill him and all the men he’s managed to involve in this suicide mission.

“Whatever they’re offering to pay you, I’ll pay you more.”

“Ho ho ho.” He laughs. “Is that right?”

“Name your price.”

“Three million.”

“Done.”

He laughs again. “I’m just fucking with you. I don’t want your money. I see this as only the beginning of a fruitful relationship.”

“Ferraro will never work with you. He doesn’t—“

“This conversation’s getting boring. Goodbye, Nero. Drive safe.” He hangs up.

Squeezing the phone inside my hand, I resist the urge to throw it through window.

I need to figure out their route and intercept them before they get to New York. If I don’t, Ferraro will kill me, and Uncle Lyle will get to keep Blake, and that’s not a fucking option.

I pull up the map on my phone and try to figure out their most likely route.

They want to meet in two days. The most direct route would take twenty hours, so they’ve got plenty of time to spare. If they’re smart, they’ll probably hide somewhere during the day and drive during the night to minimize the chance of anyone seeing their hostage.

There are a hundred cheap motels they could stop at, and I’ve got no way of determining which ones to check.

Rage and frustration pulse against my temples. I need to figure this out, but how?

I walk outside and glance around the street. The neighbors on the other side of the road aren’t home. Their driveways are empty, which means no witnesses.

How the fuck am I supposed to track Blake down?

Desperation starts to build inside my gut.

I brought this onto her.

I was so fucking sure my past wouldn’t catch up to me that I got careless. Stupid. I put her in danger.

I clench my jaw, my vision narrowing. I need to focus.

This is what I used to do. Solve problems. Fix shit when everything goes wrong. I might be out of practice, but it’s in my blood.

First things first, I’ve got to bury Sandro. I can’t just leave him here. He deserves a burial.

Ten minutes later, I’m digging a grave at the far end of my backyard. The soil is stubborn and iced over, but I force my shovel through it until I have a shallow grave.

Back inside, I empty out Sandro’s pockets. Wallet, phone, some change, his business cards. The business cards make my vision go blurry. He was so fucking happy when he got the damned things that he drove over to show them to me.

I let out a heavy breath.

Hold on.

He drove here… Where are his car keys?

I check his pockets again, but they’re empty.

Maybe he left them in his car?

I go to check, but they’re not there either. I search the front lawn, the porch, the living room… Nothing.

There’s an AirTag on them. I remember because he bought me one too, but I never put it on. I grab his phone, hover it over his face to unlock it, and then pull up the locator app.

There they are. Car keys.

They’re all the way out on the I-44, moving toward St. Louis.

The fuck?

And then it dawns on me.

Blake’s got the keys.