Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (26 page)

Aiden thanked the waitress and seated himself across from his mother. The woman looked as impeccable as ever. Hair twisted in a tight coif, not a strand out of place. She wore a form-fitting white business suit with silver buttons and matching silver jewelry. As she sat on the phone, eyes that looked like his made a sweeping perusal of his face and a flicker of surprise registered in those dark amber depths before narrowing in disapproval.

“He’s here right now. At least I think it’s him.”

He rolled his eyes at her jab.
Really?
The waitress appeared out of nowhere and set a glass of lemon water in front of him. She offered him a menu but he waved it away. If he ate right now, he was pretty sure he’d puke. Besides, he wouldn’t be here that long.

“I will tell him.” Madeline disconnected the call and dropped her cell into her Louis Vuitton handbag. “Your father sends his regrets he could not be here. His meeting is running late.”

“Of course it is.” Was that bitterness souring his voice? Huh . . . he’d thought he was past this pettiness, past the stinging disappointment in having a father who cared more about his career than his son.

“I have good news for you, Aiden,” she continued, ignoring his bristling comment. “The wedding is off.”

“You say that as if you actually believed it was on. But pray tell, why is it now suddenly ‘off’?”

“Cynthia Moralli disappeared three days ago and has yet to return. Apparently, the willful chit wasn’t any more excited about the idea of an arranged marriage than you were. Seems she fancied herself in love and eloped. Of course Vincent is furious.”

“I’m sure he is. Do you honestly think he’s just going to walk away from a ten-million-dollar campaign contribution?”

“He won’t have a choice. The dowry is nonrefundable. His daughter breached the contract. Not you.”

Aiden didn’t bother pointing out that in approximately seventy-two hours he would have done just that. Madeline leaned a little closer and dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. “Rumor has it she was secretly seeing someone from the Lion’s Den. Not only is his daughter gone, but he’s lost his best fighter. He has a lot more than ten million dollars at stake. He’s so furious, he’s got his people looking for them everywhere.”

Un-fucking-believable . . .
But the sad thing was, you just couldn’t make this shit up. It was like he’d walked into a scene from
The Untouchables.
The Moralli name had roots in this city as far back as the Sicilian immigration in the late nineteenth century. Men like Vincent believed they were above the law, because people like Aiden and his father made them that way. They tied the hands of the legal system, making it damn near impossible for the courts to get a conviction on any charge, and that was assuming they could find a judge not on Moralli’s payroll to try their case.

“How do you know all this?”

“Your father has a man working for Moralli who keeps him apprised of certain business. Just because Bennett works with the man, it doesn’t mean he trusts him.”

“Father shouldn’t be working with him at all. The man’s a criminal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Aiden, don’t be daft. You cannot hold the position your father has and wield that kind of power without brushing shoulders with the Cosa Nostra.”

“Is that the defense you plan to use in court, Mom? Listen to me. Vincent Moralli is doing things you don’t even know about. There is such a thing as guilt by association, and if Moralli ever goes down, do not think for one second he isn’t going to take Dad with him. Moralli may like to think so, but he isn’t invincible. All it would take is for him to fuck with the wrong person who knows just enough to ruin him.”

He let the threat hang in the air. She was a smart woman and her shrewd gaze narrowed on him. “Do not even think about it, Aiden.”

He gave a negligent shrug and raised his wrist, pulling back his sleeve to check the time and exposing several inches of ink. Ignoring her surprised gasp, he said, “I have a meeting with Moralli in an hour. It didn’t take long for him to discover I was back in town—imagine that. I won’t ask you how he found that out. Which brings me to the subject of Ryann. How did you come to hire her?”

Madeline sat back in her chair and busied herself with the napkin in her lap. “She was referred to me.”

“By whom?” Her delay in response was all the answer he needed.
Fuck.
It gave him no pleasure to discover he was right. Moralli was behind this. Question is, just how deep did this deception run? “You owe her payment for services rendered.”

Reaching across the table, she took hold of his chin and angled his head to the side. It was the first time she’d touched him in as long as he could remember and the unexpected contact surprised him, catching him off guard and rendering him momentarily speechless.

Unfortunately, the same effect wasn’t true for her. That hawkish gaze zeroed in on his neck, making him feel all of sixteen again. “That’s funny, I don’t recall servicing my son to be part of the deal,” she snapped, her voice rank with disapproval. It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. Hell, he thought he’d be used to it by now. “Just look at you, Aiden. What in God’s name have you done to yourself?”

He jerked away from her touch as if she’d burned him. “You’ll pay her because she did the job that no one else could do, and she needs the money. Then again, you probably already knew that. And as for this . . .” He pointed to his face. “This is who I am. And for the first time in my life, I was finally happy.”

She looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “I don’t know who you think you are. But this—” she swept her disdainful gaze over him “—is not my son.”

Wow, that hurt a hell of a lot more than he’d expected it to. Pushing back his chair, he cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the swelling lump, and stood. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mom.”

As he turned to leave, she sighed. “Aiden, wait . . .”

But his steps didn’t falter, nor did he cast her the briefest parting glance as he walked away. There was nothing left to say.

CHAPTER

 27 

A
s Aiden headed across town to Vincent Moralli’s office, he tried once again to contact Ryann. This time her cell rolled right over to voice mail, which meant either she’d shut the thing off or it was dead.
Shit . . .

“Hey, Ryann, I umm . . . Fuck, I don’t want to do this over a message, but it doesn’t look like you’re going to give me any other option here. Listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have said what I did, and umm . . . I’d like to see you. I’m about to head into a meeting with Moralli so . . . I’ll stop by when I’m done here.”

He disconnected the call just as he was pulling into the parking ramp. Whoever said crime didn’t pay obviously wasn’t doing it right, because this place was swank. Moralli lived in the penthouse and ran his business in the offices below. The guy had his hands in so much shit, he’d practically turned the Cosa Nostra into an enterprise. Some of his businesses were truly legit, which helped front for his more lucrative and illegal ventures. After years of working for the man, Aiden was confident there was a hell of a lot more going on than even he knew about. But back then, he preferred to keep it that way—deniability was key.

As Aiden pushed the button and the elevator doors slid closed, he forced aside all thoughts of his meeting with his mother, his issues with Ryann, and focused solely on preparing for his meeting with Vincent Moralli. He was a pro at blocking out shit—he’d been doing it all his life. Stepping into this elevator was the same as stepping into the octagon. Over the months, he’d honed the skill of becoming singularly focused on nothing but the opponent in front of him, and he’d be a fool if he didn’t count Moralli as his most dangerous one yet.

In fact, he was safer in the cage than he was with this man. At least in the cage they had rules, and a ref and judges. When preparing for a fight, Aiden had the chance to study his opponent’s moves and learn his weaknesses. But walking into Moralli Enterprises after being out of this game for over a year, Aiden couldn’t shake the feeling he was about to be blindsided. He hadn’t been home for even an hour last night before he’d gotten the call from Frank Luciana, Moralli’s enforcer, requesting a meeting. He had no clue what this guy could possibly want, but whatever it was, Aiden was pretty sure it wasn’t to offer him his old job back. Were it not for settling up Ryann’s debt, he wouldn’t have agreed to come. Whatever this bastard wanted with him, it wasn’t good.

The elevator chimed its destination and the doors slid open. Tension strung his muscles tight; restless energy hummed beneath his flesh with the familiar prickle of anticipation. He was ready to get this meeting over with and was anxious to see Ryann. As he stepped into the hallway and turned left, the industrial carpet absorbed the sound of his brisk, determined steps, though he had no doubt Moralli was aware of his presence the moment he set foot in the building.

Aiden gave the receptionist a curt nod as he walked past, heading for Moralli’s office. “Mr. Kruze!” she cried, jumping up from her desk. “Wait!” She chased after him, shuffling on her high-heels. What did she think she could do to stop him? “You can’t just walk in th—”

His hand was on the knob and he was halfway through the door when the woman finally caught up to him. Aiden had never treaded lightly around Moralli and he wasn’t about to start now. Vincent was sitting behind his desk. At the intrusion, his head snapped up and the scowl darkening his face eased ever so slightly when his eyes locked on Aiden.

“It’s all right, Ms. Porter, Mr. Kruze has an appointment.” The woman faded into the background and Aiden closed the door behind him. Vincent’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you for another twenty minutes.”

Aiden shrugged. “My other meeting didn’t last as long as I was expecting.”

“Please,” Vincent said, sweeping his hand toward the empty chair across his desk. “Have a seat.” The man’s grin was more a showing of his teeth than a smile. Zero warmth filled his eyes as he attempted to appear amiable, but Aiden knew him well enough to see through the false charm. “How are you?” The chair creaked as the man leaned back, stretching out behind his desk. He folded his hands in his lap, fingers steepled, as he waited for Aiden to answer.

He fought the instinct to tense under the man’s watchful gaze. Guys like Moralli got off on power and intimidation, and Aiden refused to cow before anyone. Keeping his posture at ease, he returned the man’s assessing stare. The light gray suit matched the silver streaks in his dark brown hair. He’d lost weight in the past months, making his custom-fit Fioravanti not so custom anymore. He’d almost wondered if the man was ill, but the dangerous spark in those eyes hadn’t dimmed a bit.

“I’ve been better,” Aiden told him in all honesty. If there was one thing the man detested, it was being lied to. He wasn’t here to make an enemy, he was here to settle Ryann’s debt and be on his way. Aiden reached into his pocket and pulled out a check, setting it on the desk and sliding it forward.

The man’s brow rose curiously. “What is this?” he asked, unfolding his hands to pick up the check.

“It’s Ryann Andrews’s debt. I’m paying it in full. In exchange, I want you to call off your dogs and leave her alone.”

The smile that twisted the man’s mouth sent Aiden’s instincts firing, adrenaline flooding his veins.

Taking great care, and with deliberate, purposeful movements, Vincent held up the check and slowly tore the paper in half. Placing the two pieces together, he ripped it again, and again, and again before letting the small squares flitter to his desktop like pieces of confetti.

“You really have no idea, do you? For an honors Harvard Law grad, you sure are stupid.”

Aiden’s jaw clenched with the effort to remain in his seat when every impulse inside him was clamoring to slam his fist into this bastard’s jaw. “Excuse me?”

“What makes you think this is about her? That any of this was ever about her? I don’t give a fuck about seventy-five grand. I wipe my ass with seventy-five grand. Ryann is a pawn. Her dad was a pawn. Sure, the guy liked his booze and gambled a bit too much, but he was a good PI. Found a lot of people for me, and since you’re here now, it looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“How did you know she’d get me to come back?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. But I’m a gambling man, and given the chance to tap that ass, there isn’t any place
I
wouldn’t follow that pussy. You and I, we’re not so different, Aiden.”

Rage boiled up inside him. Was it true? Had Ryann been working for Moralli the whole time? Manipulating him, using him to get what she wanted? Fuck! The armrest creaked under the pressure of his tightening grip. Tension strung every muscle in his body ripcord tight, and he waged an inner battle to control the fury coursing through his veins. Never in his life had he wanted to wrap his hands around a man’s neck and squeeze the life out of him more than he did right now.

“I don’t know what lies she’s told you, but this isn’t about her. It’s about you. I’ve been grooming you for this business for too fucking long to just let you walk away. I expect a return on my investment. If you thought it was going to be that easy to turn your back on the family, then someone obviously didn’t explain the rules to you very well.”

“What do you want?” he growled.

“What do I want?” he barked, the already loose rein on that notorious Moralli temper slipping. “Let’s start with what I
did
want, Aiden. I have no sons—just one willful, unappreciative daughter. But I loved you like a son, and you betrayed me.” He spread his arms wide. “All this could have been yours. But instead you turned your back on me. You refused my offer to join the family, and my bitch of a daughter has just signed the death warrant of my best fighter.

“But fear not!” Vincent proclaimed, pointing to the ceiling as if stuck by a sudden epiphany. “I am a resourceful man. You have made quite a name for yourself in Vegas, my friend.”

Tension rocketed through Aiden like a hurricane.
Oh, hell no.
He knew where this was going and planned to nip that idea before the seed could even begin to take root. “I’m not fighting for you,” Aiden interrupted. Sitting across from this man was like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, waiting for him to pull the trigger.

“Ryann’s in love with you. Did you know that? Yeah, I can tell by the look on your face this is news to you. Came as quite a shocker to me, too. Looks like my little pawn just became a whole lot more valuable.”

And there it was—the metaphorical blast that deafened him, piercing his chest and tearing his heart to shreds.
Fuck . . .
Whether or not he spoke true, it didn’t matter. The pain tightening the invisible band around his chest, making it impossible to breathe, forced Aiden to admit his own feelings. He was in love with a woman who had quite possibly betrayed him to Moralli, and the sick fuck was watching his reaction with a predator’s glee.

“You will fight for me and you will win. You don’t need me to tell you how much money is on the line with these fights—how much money I personally stand to lose if they don’t happen. You will take over Broden Hayes’s fight roster.”

This guy was out of his mind. “No fucking way. I’m not fighting for you.”

The sadistic chuckle echoing in the room cemented Aiden with cold, hard dread. “I thought you might say that.” Vincent reached over, pressed the intercom button on his desk, and spoke into the small black box. “Bring her in.”

A moment later the door flew open, and Ryann was thrust inside
by a man easily twice her size. Aiden immediately recognized the bas
tard and muttered a foul oath under his breath—Frank Luciana—Vincent Moralli’s right-hand man. He was the puppet master who
pulled the strings for Moralli, doing the bastard’s dirty work. If Moralli
wanted someone dead, this was the guy who would see it done.

“Watch it!” Ryann snapped, stumbling forward. She shot a scathing glare over her shoulder at Luciana, who looked wholly amused by her anger. The only thing keeping her upright as he dragged her farther into the room was his big, meaty hand clamped tightly around her bicep. She didn’t see Aiden standing across from Moralli, her fury focused solely on the bastard manhandling her.

Rage detonated inside Aiden like an atomic bomb. “You motherfucker!” He exploded from his chair, launching himself across the desk.

“Aiden!” Ryann cried, her bravado slipping, voice cracking with desperation.

Papers scattered and the computer crashed to the floor, but before he could get his hands around that fucker’s throat, the distinct snick of a gun stopped Aiden dead, and Ryann’s startled yelp sent icy shards of fear lancing into his heart.

“I don’t think you want to do this,” Vincent sneered with the calm of a man who held every fucking card in the deck. “Not unless you want your beautiful girlfriend’s brains splattered all over that wall.” He nodded to the left.

“Let her go.” The feral snarl tearing from his throat made him sound more animal than man. His mind raced with options, his terror for Ryann threatening to paralyze him. He knew Moralli wouldn’t kill him—he needed him to fight—but Ryann was another story. She was Aiden’s weakness, and the bastard knew it. What had Ryann told him? His heart rioted in his chest, muscles straining with the instinct to protect what was his, even when the bitter sting of Ryann’s betrayal was like poison running through his veins.

“I’ll let her go . . . once you sign this.” Vincent opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers, slapping them onto the desk.

“What is it?” he demanded, snatching up the document.

“A contract. It basically says that I own you. You now fight for me.”

The man was insane if he thought Aiden would ever work for him again—especially now. They both knew a contract signed under duress was worthless, but he also knew it was Moralli’s way of cowing him. The symbolism behind it was the same as forcing a submission in the cage. Moralli was making him tap. And if he didn’t, Ryann was going to pay the price. He didn’t have a choice but to do it, not when Luciana had a fucking gun pressed into Ryann’s temple. The only thing that mattered right now was Ryann and getting her the hell out of here. And if he had to sign a piece of paper to make that happen, then so be it. That bastard didn’t realize who he was fucking with, and in that moment, Aiden made a vow that if it was the last thing he ever did, he was taking Vincent Moralli down.