Page 55 of Contempt

“Mmm, sure,” Cree muttered. “I said, the job remains the same. Keep an eye on the Italian, and report back like you were told to do. Compromised or not, that doesn’t change the fact that you know how to follow someone without being seen. As long as you’re not constantly stepping in on Christian or his people, then I highly doubt he’s going to notice you’re even around, Renzo.”

“But—”

“I’m not done.” Cree sighed, and shifted on the other end of the phone. “Listen, there must be a reason why M wanted this man followed, and for you to do it. He’s never sent you out on a job like this before—it’s always something bigger, or he let The League contract you out for a job. So, this is … something. Maybe you don’t need all the details, and that’s why you didn’t get them. I don’t know. Point is, the job remains the same. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Renzo frowned.

He shouldn’t tell Cree what was on the tip of his tongue, but the words felt like they were about to come out without his permission, anyway. But if there was anyone he trusted from The League, it was Cree.

Besides, without explaining the full extent of the compromise he’d made of himself with the job, then Cree might not be giving him the right advice. If that came back on Renzo, then so fucking be it. He would handle it. But it wouldn’t be just him who would answer for it—Cree would have to, as well.

That wasn’t fair.

“The compromise had to do with Lucia Marcello,” Renzo said quieter. “She was involved, and still is.”

There.

He said it.

Renzo waited Cree’s silence out again. The man knew the rules of Renzo’s contract with The League, and M. He knew the rules that were expected of him, and that under no circumstances, was he to break them.

Would that change things?

Possibly.

When Cree didn’t say anything after a minute, Renzo spoke again. “There is more at play here in this job than just the Italian. It’s Lucia, too. I’m not good for this job, Cree, not when things like her also are in play.”

Finally, Cree sighed. “He expected that, actually, and the job remains the same. Lucia or no Lucia, you stay and do your job.”

“Who expected what?” Renzo demanded.

“All of them, Ren.”

What?

Cree hung up the phone before Renzo could ask that question. Shit.

Frustrated, Renzo spun on his heel to head back out of the hotel’s lobby. Hell, if he was going to have to stay in this city, then he had things to take care of while he was here. He damn near tripped over his own two feet at the sight waiting for him just beyond the exit doors.

Lucian Marcello, in a three-piece suit and looking ready for the day to be over, leaned against the back door of a black Mercedes. He’d folded his arms over his chest, and his gaze nailed into Renzo. There was no way for him to act like he hadn’t seen the man when he was looking right at him.

Fuck.

He hated black cars now. They always reminded him of Capos on the streets, and the Marcellos coming for him in San Francisco. He’d bought three vehicles for himself since starting at The League, and not a single one of them were black for those reasons.

Lucian tipped his head to the side, and crooked a finger at Renzo as if to silently demand he come closer. Great, now he was regaled to the likes of a puppy. A simple gesture or a single word was going to send him running.

Renzo pushed his thoughts out of his mind, and headed out of the hotel. “Did you come here to tell me to stay the hell away from Lucia, then?”

Lucian arched a brow. “Is that what you want me to say?”

No.

Not at all.

Instead, Renzo muttered, “What do you want?”

Stepping away from the car, Lucian opened the back door, and then nodded at the inside of the car. “Get in?”