Page 44 of Fatal Sloth
Fuck! I need to get laid.
Out of nowhere, a sudden buzz near my ear surprises the hell out of me, and before I can process it, I realize it's a bee. Instinct takes over as I leap out of my seat, my escape from the terrace turning into a chaotic frenzy. In my frantic attempt to avoid the tiny-winged menace, I collide with the edge of the table, causing a sharp pain to shoot through me.
Marie's eyes widen in disbelief as she witnesses the whole spectacle, her expression a mix of shock and amusement. I nearly knock Mia to the ground in my wild flailing, but thank fuck, my reflexes kick in just in time. I reach out and grab Mia before her ass can hit the damn floor.
Mia's inquiring blue eyes lock onto mine, searching for an explanation. "A bee," I offer, holding her close in my arms. The proximity isn't doing me any favors, especially with her always smelling so good. Mmm, she tastes just as good as she smells.
Her giggle reaches my ears, and my dirty thoughts escalate. Along with her vow to protect me from the bees, it's evident she's aware of the situation in my pants. With a silent curse, I release her from my grip and hastily sit down, attempting to conceal the tent in my pants.
I'd rather skip breakfast altogether and have her laid out on the table, indulging in the sweet taste of her pussy. But instead, I'm stuck here, listening to her ramble on about some fucker named Cameron she's having lunch with.
She basically tells me he's nothing to worry about, but I still plan on looking into him and having Daren keep an eye on him today. I don't trust anyone easily, especially when it comes to someone getting close to me, including my wife’s friend. If Cameron's intentions aren't pure, he'll regret ever crossing paths with Mia.
As Enzo and Dario approach, a surge of tension grips me. This isn't a conversation for the open, especially not with Mia around. I give them a sharp nod, leading the way to my office, where we can talk without any interruptions.
I settle into the chair behind my desk, the gravity of the situation heavy in the air. "Was it him?" I cut straight to the chase as soon as the door clicks shut.
Enzo takes the seat opposite me, and Dario slides in next to him. "The ME report's still out, but I know it wasn't him," Dario replies, his gruff voice filled with frustration.
The night I was called to the docks, security cameras caught an unmarked car dropping off a package that still makes my stomach churn at the memory. Inside one of our delivery shipping containers lay a headless body, more like a torso and ass, with its fingers missing and its skin peeled off to erase any identifying marks. And to top it all off? They laid the body on top of one of our gun crates, empty at that. They didn't just steal our supplies. They left a message, a real fuck-you to us all.
Now, it looks like we'll have to wait until the ME report comes through to figure out who the hell it was, assuming it's even one of my men. And, of course, nobody saw a damn thing.
A weight is lifted off my shoulders at his words, but I still have to ask, "How do you know it wasn't him?" I question.
"He didn't have the knife scar on his rib cage," Dario replies.
I forgot about the scar, but if anyone would remember, it’s Dario. He's the one who stabbed him. I remember that night like it was yesterday. Dario and Diego got into a heated argument over which body part bleeds more. They are the kind of sadistic fuckers you can always count on when someone needs to be taught a lesson. Their methods are ruthless, twisted, and calculated. Diego swore it was the thigh, and Dario said it was the ribs. After way too many drinks, they wanted to settle the debate. Dario won that fight, and Diego needed twelve stitches to understand that he lost. However, neither of them held a grudge; they became good friends and partners in the Mafioso.
I've seen them in action together. It's in the subtle curl of their lips, the way they hold themselves with menacing confidence. They get sick satisfaction from inflicting pain. They feed off the fear of their victims, so they prolong their torture methods to prolong the brutality.
Dario is taking Diego’s disappearance harder than anyone. Diego called him the night he went missing, but Dario was with his woman and didn't answer. It left Dario with too many unanswered questions, and he thinks if he answered, he could have prevented this. He probably wouldn't have, but there's no telling him any different. I’ll let his eager ass help find my missing soldier.
The room is tense as we stare at the monitors, watching shadow figures in black move with precision, telling me this isn't their first time around the docks near my containers. The more I stare at the dark screen with grainy ass footage, the quicker my patience goes out the window.
"Go back, scan the whole area," I bark. "They must've left something behind, some clue so we aren't running in one big fucking circle-jerk."
Enzo and Dario snap to attention at my outburst, getting up in unison to leave.
"And send Daren in," I order as they get moving.
Daren steps in as Enzo and Dario exit and begin the hunt for the scumbags who dare to mess with me. Daren stands in front of my desk, his stance alert, sensing my underlying aggression. I spare him no pleasantries, keeping my words clipped and direct.
"Keep a close eye on this Cameron guy," I instruct, keeping my voice low. "Get me everything. Full intel. I don't trust him, no matter how much Mia might." In my world, trust is earned, not given. Understanding what I’m asking without another word, Daren nods, his expression serious.
After he exits my office, I waste no time going upstairs to sleep off this fucked-up day that's been nothing but a headache so far. Each step feels heavier than the last, fatigue dragging at my limbs as I climb the stairs.
I strip off my suit jacket and toss it onto the floor, not bothering to hang it up. With a heavy sigh, I stagger to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to wash away the tension. My reflection stares back at me through the mirror, deep lines of exhaustion etched into my face.
Back in my room, I don't bother with the covers. I toss my phone onto the nightstand with a careless thud, the screen illuminating the dark room, only for me to ignore it.
I collapse face-first into the softness of my pillow, surrendering to sleep and letting the darkness swallow me.
Buzz Buzz.
My phone won't shut the hell up, buzzing like the annoying bee from this morning. I groggily glance at the screen, expecting the usual barrage of notifications. I nearly lose my damn mind at what I see. Photos. Photos that make my blood boil.
Dammit! Mia wasn't having lunch with her old buddy. She's cozying up to Nico. And it's looking a little too romantic for my liking.