Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Past
Hunter’s blood ran cold. The color drained from her face so fast she felt dizzy.
"Jimmy," she breathed out, her voice barely a squeak. "Oh God... how did he find me?"
Lorenzo slowly stood up from the bed. The gentle, vulnerable father vanished instantly, replaced by the apex predator who ruled the Chicago underworld. His dark eyes flickered with a lethal, terrifying flame.
"Stay here with Leo," Lorenzo said softly to Hunter, his voice unnaturally calm.
"Lorenzo, please!" Hunter panicked, reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of his tailored shirt. "He’s violent! He’s crazy! If he knows I’m here, he’ll try to get money from you, he’ll—"
Lorenzo reached down and gently placed his hand over hers, unclasping her fingers from his sleeve. He leaned down and pressed a short, firm kiss to her forehead—a gesture so natural, so protective, that it caught both of them off guard.
"He isn't going to get money, Hunter," Lorenzo murmured against her skin. "He’s going to get an education."
Without another word, Lorenzo turned and strode out of the suite, Gideon trailing closely behind him. The heavy oak doors clicked shut, leaving Hunter alone in the silent, luxurious room with her heart slamming violently against her ribs.
At the main security gates of the Rossi estate, heavy rain was beginning to fall.
Jimmy Vance stood outside the iron bars, wearing a grimy leather jacket, soaking wet, screaming at three towering armed guards who stood like stone statues on the other side.
"I know she’s in there!" Jimmy yelled, his voice slurred with cheap bourbon. "I tracked her bus ticket! She’s my woman! You rich freaks can't keep her from me! I’ll go to the cops! I’ll go to the TV stations! I’ll tell them you’re holding her hostage!"
The heavy iron gates suddenly began to hum, slowly sliding open.
Jimmy smirked, wiping rain from his nose with his sleeve. "Yeah, that’s right. Better open up before I—"
He stopped speaking.
A sleek black Maybach rolled through the gates, stopping ten feet in front of him. The rear passenger door swung open.
Lorenzo Rossi stepped out into the rain. He didn't wear a coat. He didn't carry an umbrella. He simply stood there, six-foot-four of pure, muscular threat, looking down at the scrawny, trembling man in front of him.
Jimmy swallowed hard, his bravado instantly evaporating as he took in Lorenzo’s custom suit, the massive diamond pinky ring, and the cold, lifeless eyes staring down at him.
"Are you Jimmy Vance?" Lorenzo asked softly, his voice easily cutting through the sound of the rain.
"Yeah... yeah, I’m Jimmy," he stutters, trying to puff out his chest. "Look, man, I don't want no trouble. Hunter is my girl. She ran off with my stuff. I just want her back."
Lorenzo took a slow step forward. Jimmy instinctively took a step back, but two of Lorenzo’s guards stepped out from the shadows behind him, blocking his retreat.
"Hunter Higgins belongs to no one," Lorenzo said quietly. "Least of all a sniveling coward who pushes pregnant women down flights of stairs."
Jimmy’s eyes widened in sudden terror. "She... she told you about that? Look, buddy, that was an accident! She tripped! She’s crazy!"
Before Jimmy could finish the sentence, Lorenzo’s hand shot out like a striking cobra.
His massive palm clamped around Jimmy’s throat, lifting the smaller man two inches off the wet pavement. Jimmy gasped for air, his feet kicking uselessly at the ground, his fingers clawing frantically at Lorenzo’s iron grip. Lorenzo didn't even blink. He leaned in close, his rain-slicked face inches from Jimmy’s purple, suffocating face.
"Listen to me, you pathetic piece of trash," Lorenzo growled, his voice a dark, terrifying rumble that shook Jimmy to his core. "If you ever utter her name again... if you ever breathe the same air in this city... I will not kill you quickly. I will dismantle you piece by piece, and feed what’s left to the fish in Lake Michigan. Do you understand me?"
Jimmy squeaked out a desperate, terrified nod.
Lorenzo released his grip. Jimmy collapsed onto the wet asphalt, coughing violently, gasping for breath.
"Gideon," Lorenzo commanded coldly, turning his back on the squirming man.
"Yes, Don Rossi?"
"Put Mr. Vance on a cargo train to California. If he steps off before the final stop, put a bullet in his spine."
"Consider it done, Boss."
May you like
Lorenzo walked back to his Maybach, stepping inside and closing the door. He wiped a drop of rain off his cuff, his eyes cold and dark. The past was handled. But as he looked out the tinted window at the towering estate, he knew that keeping Hunter safe from her past was only the beginning.
Because the rival Moretti syndicate was watching the estate. And they had just seen the great Lorenzo Rossi personally handle a street rat for the sake of a mysterious woman living on his third floor.
