Catherine accepted Cross’s hand to help her step down from the passenger side of the Range Rover in her heels. “This is not where I expected a meeting to take place.”
She surveyed the old warehouse, taking in the rusted metal roof and drab walls. Many of the windows were covered with sheets of wood, while a few others had been broken out altogether, yet still covered. It was an odd sight; all the brand new, luxury vehicles parked outside a derelict building.
“It’s not unusual,” Cross said. “Meets happen in places like these more often than not, and more so if it’s a meeting between members of different families.”
Catherine let Cross interweave their fingers, and pull her close as they headed for the rusty, dented bay doors of the warehouse. “Why is that?”
“A few reasons.”
“So stop being a shit, and give me some.”
Cross chuckled. “Well, because these places are … safe, I suppose. You never really know if there’s been a wire put in your house or car. You can’t be sure someone isn’t a rat. When you have to discuss sensitive things in a large manner, then it’s best to gather in a place that is definitely untouched by officials.”
“Okay, but that’s like one reason, Cross. You said a few.”
“I’m not a Marcello. I’m a Donati man. I’m not comfortable taking up space in Marcello territory to discuss my business, and Marcello men are not entirely keen on coming into Donati territory. We came up with a solution, of sorts.”
“Which is?”
Cross waved at the warehouse. “This shitty place is owned by a man of my father’s. So I get the meet on my territory, and the Marcello family are allowed to gather in however high of a number they wanted. The thing about Cosa Nostra is that all made men are—”
“Honorable,” Catherine murmured.
He gave her a look.
She shrugged. “I’ve heard it said a lot over the years. Honor. Integrity. Follow the rules. Be a good made man.”
Cross nodded once. “Well, yeah.”
“So, my family won’t disrespect yours by causing a problem on your family’s territory.”
“And we’ve given them respect by allowing them to gather in such a large number on our territory. That’s how it works, sometimes.”
“So … enter the warehouse.”
“The warehouse,” he agreed.
Cross didn’t release Catherine’s hand as he bent down to grab hold of the bay door, and lift it open. He only lifted it just high enough for Catherine to bend down and slip underneath without much issue. He followed behind, and let the door drop closed with a crashing bang.
Catherine turned with Cross to face a large opened space, high ceilings that dripped from the last rain, and a cracked, weathered cement floor.
Plus, men.
A whole bunch of men.
Marcello men.
Her father, uncles, and cousins, Andino and John. There were many faces she recognized standing around the place, too, some gathered in groups and others leaning against the walls. Men that had come and gone from their house over the years. Capos, her father always called them. A few others were simply enforcers that had looked after her, or someone else in their family when needed. That didn’t even include the faces she didn’t recognize.
Catherine did a quick count.
Thirty.
Thirty men.
Also, one single woman besides her.
Catherine’s mother stepped to her husband’s side, but seemed entirely disinterested in the scene happening around her. Catrina toyed with a small silver knife as Dante said something to her that was too low for anyone else to hear. Her mother nodded, but her bored expression never changed.
Cross nodded toward the east wall of the warehouse, and said, “Go stand over there, and let me talk for a bit. Okay?”
Catherine didn’t entirely like that idea, but since she didn’t understand why she was there to begin with, she did as he told her to. It was only once she was off to the side, and not directly in the line of fire, that the conversation started between the men.
“Sit, or stand?” Dante asked.
“I’d prefer to stand,” Cross said.
“This could take a while.”
“I doubt it, but I’m fine either way.”
“Andino, go stand with Cross,” Dante demanded.
Andino sighed, but pushed off the wall where he stood beside John, and did as Catherine’s father told him. He stood side by side with Cross, although the two men didn’t even look at one another.
“I’d like to know what happened, from the very start, to the moment you walked onto the tarmac,” Dante said, “and with the both of you like this, I plan on getting the same story, without blanks that need to be filled in.”
It was interesting to Catherine how every man in the warehouse didn’t seem all that bothered that she, or her mother, were watching a meeting between made men take place. That, and how they all stayed quiet when her father spoke.
She couldn’t remember a single time when thirty Italian men all stayed quiet at the same time, and let a single man speak.
“Andino, start talking,” Dante said.
“The run was already in place,” Andino said, “the guns were almost to port. Our guy got picked up two weeks prior on a trafficking charge, and wasn’t getting out. I had to make that run on time, or we were going to be out the other quarter million on the deal with Rhys.”
Dante sucked air in through his teeth, looking entirely displeased. “So you went to Cross Donati.”
“He is a gunrunner.”
“Sure, but I am quite sure I explicitly forbade you and the rest of my men from working with Cross, did I not?”
Catherine saw Cross stiffen, but he kept quiet.
“Our gunrunner was out,” Andino replied tiredly, “and he is going to keep being out, considering he’s still not out of jail. Thirty percent of our business is arms trafficking. The longer guns sit between shipments, the more money we are losing. Hemorrhaging, actually. This deal was massive, and if we lost it, we would lose Rhys as a client anyway. So no, I didn’t really care that you had an opinion about who I decided to run those guns. All that mattered to me was that the guns got moving after they got into port, and hit the drop on time.”
“Andino.”
“Cross is the best gunrunner on this continent at the moment. Ask Vegas. Ask Chicago. He worked with the best, and now he’s the only one who exclusively runs their guns. He’s been doing this for almost ten years, and he makes clean runs every single time.”
“Except this one,” Dante murmured as his gaze turned on Cross. “It was a big run to start fucking up on, let me just say.”
Still, Cross kept quiet.
“So what exactly did you gain here, Andino?” Dante asked sharply. “You did cost me the deal. We have most definitely lost Rhys as a client for the future, and you’ve severely pissed me off. So what did you gain?”
Andino shrugged. “Those are details.”
“Important details!”
“You’re not helping,” Cross told Andino.
“And you,” Dante said, “start talking, Cross.”
“It’s all been said, I think,” Cross replied.
“What happened on that boat?”
Cross’s gaze slid to Catherine, and then quickly went back to Dante. “Rhys sent men who were not regulars, as I’ve run guns for him before. I was below deck with the ones that needed to transfer the weapons from the yacht we had to theirs, and shit happened.”
“Like what?”
“It’s not really—”
“One of the guys found me in a part of the boat where he wasn’t supposed to be,” Catherine interjected before Cross could refuse to tell Dante what happened. “I was out of sight, like Cross told me to be to stay safe, but the guy was where he shouldn’t have been, too. He attacked me, so I killed him.”
Cross’s dark gaze fell on Catherine. Despite his calm demeanor, she could see he still held guilt for what happened. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t hers, either. It just happened—there was little to no morals in most criminals, and she was not surprised that a situation like that came up. There had been a reason why Cross wanted her to stay hidden out of sight, after all.
Dante let out a harsh breath. “I take it, the others reacted when their man was found.”
“I couldn’t come back with guns. We already had it worked out with officials at the port to have the boat searched coming back in, but not on the way out. Those guns couldn’t still be in there. The rest is history. I made a choice, and I would make it again if it meant the same outcome.”
“I understand that, Cross.”
Her father looked to her, but quickly went back to the two men.
“Yet, this is also business, and so we have to figure that bit out, too,” Dante finished quieter. “I have a man who doesn’t seem to understand that when I put restrictions on who he can and cannot work with, he is to follow those. And I have a gunrunner who now owes me a quarter of a million for a run he chose to botch. Not to mention the ruin of a client connection that could have made us millions over time.”
“For me, though,” Catherine said, “and because of me.”
Dante held up one hand to his daughter, and she recognized that action as him shushing her without saying a word. His attention stayed on the two men twenty feet away from him. “I do understand why, but that doesn’t negate business.”
“Of course not,” Cross agreed.
“Let’s talk business, then, and how you plan to correct what was done.”
“I can’t correct it; what’s done is done, Dante.”
“Boss or Don, Cross.”
“Not mine,” Cross replied. Although, he said it with more respect in his tone than Catherine ever heard him speak to her father.
“See,” Dante said to Andino, “this is why you were told not to work with him.”
“And because of Catherine,” Andino replied. “Let’s not forget that piece of information, too.”
“Yes, well—”
“You have the best gunrunner in this country at your will right now,” Andino interjected dryly, “and you want to waste time repeating to me the same old, tired rhetoric that literally means nothing. So I did what you told me not to—who fucking cares? It might not have worked out one way, but I see a whole other gain to be gotten at the moment where Cross is concerned. Bind him in; he’s the best, so make sure he only works for you. Don’t you see? This isn’t a bad thing.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Cross asked, staring hard at Andino.
Catherine’s cousin didn’t even flinch.
“You want me to take your seat when you decide it’s time for me to do that,” Andino said, uncaringly, “and so you’re going to have to deal with the way I work myself into the position. You’ll have to deal with who I choose to work with. I want the best, so make sure I have him.”
Dante’s gaze darted back to Cross, and then to Andino. Her father didn’t seem to have an appropriate response to give. Catherine wasn’t entirely sure what just happened, except that somehow, her cousin was doing his manipulating again. She hadn’t realized how good of a manipulator Andino actually was.
It was frightening. Yet, her father seemed … proud.
“Cross, it seems the ball is currently in your court,” Dante said.
Cross scowled. “I’ll pay you the quarter of a million. Simple.”
“You know it’s the point of the matter, not anything else.”
“I’m not offering anything—”
“Try again,” Dante interrupted smoothly.
Catherine could see exactly where this was all leading them, and Cross did not seem happy about it at all. Still, he said, “I will run your guns, then.”
“Exclusively.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Indefinitely.”
Cross sighed. “Until I no longer can, sure.”
“I like that agreement,” Dante said, smiling.
“On conditions,” Cross added.
Dante cocked a brow. “What would those be?”
“I don’t pay dues to you—you’re not my boss.”
“If you’re working for me that would imply I am your boss, Cross.”
“Yet, you won’t be. I’m doing a job for you, of which I will be compensated for, while not running guns elsewhere. That is it. Nothing more.”
Her father’s lips pressed together in a grim line. “You’re a very difficult man.”
“It has still done me wonders.”
“Your other conditions?”
“Just one.” Cross folded his arms over his chest. “Catherine no longer deals for Andino.”
Catherine stiffened against the wall, and tried to ignore the many gazes that turned on her.
“We talked about that,” Andino muttered to Cross.
“And Catherine told you what she wanted.”
“I disagreed, Cross. It’s my call to make.”
“It won’t be after today,” he replied coolly.
“That’s enough,” Dante murmured, taking a couple of steps forward. “What did I miss here?”
“Catherine brings in a lot of money for me,” Andino said. “Like anything else with this business, someone does not simply come and go when they want to. I can’t help how these things work.”
“That’s my condition—take it or leave it,” Cross said.
“Does she want to continue dealing?” Dante asked.
“Not for Andino.”
“What about me?”
The quietly posed question had everyone turning to the only other woman in the warehouse.
Catrina.
She looked to Dante, and then to Catherine before asking again, “What about me? Could she work for me if she chose to?”
Dante cleared his throat. “Regina, another time, maybe?”
Catrina lifted a single hand high. “Now is as good as ever. Should she want to continue, but not with him, why not for me, Dante? I won’t always want to do even what I do now. You get to retire, and so should I eventually. Why not her, hmm?”
Cross glanced over at Catherine.
She only nodded.
Her entire life had been an effort to not be her mother. Mostly, because that was all anyone had ever assumed of Catherine. That she was Catrina’s little queen. That she was her mother’s daughter. She had fought against that, even to her own detriment. The truth was simpler.
Catherine knew … She was far more like Catrina, with just enough of her father to color her up, than anyone could possibly know.
Her mother was self-taught, self-made, and a goddamn queen.
Catherine was no different.
“Well?” Dante demanded. “What of it?”
“As long as it’s not Andino,” Cross said, “then the rest is up to Catherine.”
Dante smiled. “I think we have a deal, then.”
“Why are you going to Chicago again?” Catherine asked from the edge of the bed.
She resisted the urge to pull Cross onto the bed with her. Especially given how damn good he looked in the suit he wore. Cross tried to get away with wearing his usual dark wash jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets far more often than he bothered wearing suits, or even a blazer. She quite enjoyed the site of him in dressier attire when he did wear it.
Like now …
Cross shoved clothes into a small duffle bag, and then slipped his fingers under her chin to make her tip her head back. Once he seemed to be pleased how she was, he dropped a sweet kiss to her lips. “Because I owe explanations to people there, that’s all. Business is business, and it’s best to finish that all out on good terms.”
Catherine picked at her manicure. “Are you going to miss working for them?”
“Chicago and Vegas?” Cross shrugged. “As long as I get to run guns occasionally, I really don’t give a shit what I do in between, or who I do it for. Guns are guns, Catty. I don’t care about the man supplying, or buying. I just want to be the man running them because I’m good at it, and I like it.”
“I just wondered because you have worked for them a long time.”
“I mean, I don’t expect them to be real pleased about what I’m doing and what I’ve got to say, but there’s not much they can do. It’s like what I told your father. Nobody is my boss. I’m just there to do a job. With Chicago, I come and go as I please. When I say I’m done, I am done.”
“Except yesterday you just agreed to run guns indefinitely for my father’s family. That kind of means you don’t get to just up and say no more, Cross.”
He didn’t look like he particularly cared. “It is what it is.”
“Speaking of a boss …”
Cross looked down at her. “What about it?”
“Why won’t you call my father by that title?”
“Well … for a couple of reasons.”
“Is one of them because you don’t respect him?”
Cross barked out a laugh. “Far from it. I respect any man in this lifestyle that has managed to put himself in the position your father is in. Never mind, stay alive for as long he has while sitting there.”
“Then why?”
“Because I have a boss—my father. Calisto is the only man I have ever given that title to, and willingly. Because my father has been respectful enough to me that he has never seen me as his lesser. He puts me on equal footing. He expects me to sit where he does one day. I feel like using that title on another man is disrespectful to my father. I don’t mind following the orders of other men who are higher in rank. I do what needs done as a made man, but I have only one boss. For now, that’s Calisto. When he’s done, then it’s me. Okay?”
Catherine nodded. “Okay.”
Catherine reached up to tug on his shirt collar, and pulled him down for a longer kiss than he had given her. He smiled against her mouth, wicked and sinful. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“A couple of days at the most. I’ve got an apartment down there I want to grab some shit out of, and a few other things to tie up. No loose ends, right?”
“Right.”
He kissed her mouth again, but his tongue teased at the seam of her lips. “Open up for me.”
Catherine grinned and pulled away. “Nope, I know what time your flight is. You’ll be late.”
Cross scowled. “Tease.”
“Gives you something to get back for, doesn’t it?”
He considered that.
“True,” he murmured. “So hey, one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Dante and I talked—”
“Nicely?”
Cross rolled his eyes, and tugged on a strand of her hair playfully. “Hush up, Catty.”
“Fine, but you make it easy sometimes. Like a still target.”
“Hush.” He gave her a look before continuing with, “We talked, and just to be safe, you’re going to notice your enforcer being a bit closer than normal for the next little while.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Sure, she always had an enforcer trailing her if she was alone. Not when she was with Cross, or a man of her family, but definitely when she was alone. He never came close enough to make a scene, or be a distraction for her.
“We’ve tried to make contact with Rhys about the shit that went down.”
“The guy who wanted the guns in the first place, right?”
Cross nodded. “Yeah, and he’s not answering in any form. Just to be safe, your enforcer will stick closer until we get that all figured out. It’s nothing more than a precaution, but I wanted you to know why you might notice him.”
Catherine frowned. “More trouble, huh?”
“You did what you did, and so did I. The rest is details, and those don’t matter.”
“Sometimes they do,” she whispered.
Cross bent down and pressed one last, hard kiss to Catherine’s lips. “Details don’t matter as long as we’re still breathing, babe.”
“Mmhmm. Sometimes they matter.”
“The only detail I want you to worry about right now is what you want for Christmas.”
Catherine didn’t even have to think about it. “You. I want you.”
Catherine parked the Lexus in her parents’ driveway as she checked the caller ID on the ringing cell phone, before picking up the call. “Cross, hey.”
“Hey, babe. You busy?”
“No, I’m at my parents’ place. Ma wanted me to stop in.”
Cross whistled under his breath. “The regina has demanded your presence, Catty. Watch out.”
Catherine laughed. “She’s still my mom.”
“Mmhmm.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, you just hear things in this business, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“You know your mom is kind of a boss bitch, right?”
Catherine wished Cross was close enough to hit. “Don’t call my mom a bitch.”
“No, shit … Okay, some women are like mymother. Sweet, homemakers, never bat a lash at any-fucking-thing. And then there’s women like yourmother, Catherine. A woman who made it in a man’s world, and doesn’t let anyone forget it because she’s probably ten times more dangerous than any of them on a bad day.”
“Point taken,” Catherine said quietly. “She’s still just my Ma, though.”
“That you’ve agreed to work for.”
“Yeah.”
“Regretting that, yet?”
Catherine sighed. “I haven’t even started actually working for her. I can’t regret something I haven’t tried.”
“It’s definitely not going to be like it was with Andino. He kind of let you have control over your business; when and where you supplied, to whom, and whatever else. I think Catrina has a bit of a different setup, that’s all.”
“Guess I have to find out, huh?”
“I guess so,” Cross murmured. “Regardless, if you keep it up, or decide to drop it, I don’t care either way. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know, Cross.”
“Whatever you want; that’s what’s important.”
She loved him for that.
She loved him for a lot, but especially for that.
“How was your flight yesterday?” she asked.
“Packed. I got my shit at the apartment handled, though, and I’ve got a meet with the Outfit boss today. I should be back by tomorrow if all goes well.”
“It will.”
She said it more for herself than him.
“I’ll let you go. Don’t ever keep a Queen waiting, Catty.”
“Stop trying to psyche me out, Cross.”
He hummed under his breath, saying, “Love you, babe.”
“Love you.”
Catherine hung up the phone, and glanced at her parents’ large home. Cross didn’t realize it, and she hadn’t freely offered the information, but she wasnervous to have even a conversation with her mother about working together. Or rather, herworking for Catrina.
The majority of her life had been spent with her mother hiding every little bit of her business that she could from Catherine. Catrina rarely answered questions about what she did, or how it all worked. She did not talk about being a Queen Pin to her children. Catherine’s continued curiosity only made her mother shut down the topic even more.
Like she was worried Catherine might follow those footsteps.
Now, here they were.
Doing exactly that.
Funny how life worked.
Before she could overthink it much more, Catherine got out of her car, and headed for the house. She found her mother where Catrina said she would be—working in the office upstairs. Catrina barely looked up from the folders she was flipping through as Catherine sat down in one of the two high-back leather chairs in front of the desk.
“You know,” Catrina said, “when you were a young teen, I knew you liked to snoop around in our office just to see what you could find.”
“Did you?” Catherine asked.
Catrina glanced up, and her amusement was clear. “Things don’t typically movethemselves, Catty.”
“Fair enough. I mean, I didn’t try to hide it, either.”
“No, your interest in this business was always quite obvious.”
“Not the business,” Catherine said quickly. “You, Ma.”
Catrina froze. “Pardon?”
“The business was only a very small part of it. What I was interested in the most was you. The things you did, and why. How you did them, and why you had chosen to do it. I wondered where you came from and how you got to where you are because those were things you didn’t share. These parts of you—the Queen, her business, and all the rest—were locked up tight. The more I questioned, the harder you shut me down. I wanted to know who she was because she was still my mother.”
“I only wanted to be your mother, and nothing more,” Catrina admitted. “I was never supposed to be a mother, Catherine. Not that I couldn’t be one, but because women like me typically choose a different life path, and children are almost never a part of the equation.”
“I get that.”
“When I had the chance to take that path, and continue being Queen, I chose to do so in a way that kept the two separate as much as was possible. Or, I tried.”
“But you’re always her, Ma.”
Catrina smiled. “Always.”
“So now here we are,” Catherine said softly.
“It’s like a circle of sorts, isn’t it?”
“As long as it all works out.”
Catrina laughed lightly. “I have no doubt that it will. You are my daughter, after all. I really didn’t expect any different, even if I tried to convince myself otherwise. Your father used to tell me all the time that you were just like me—she’s yours all over, Cat. He liked to point it out only to poke at a fear of mine, I think. One of the few I actually had.”
“And what fear was that?”
“I suppose that you would be like me, which terrified me to death and he knew it. He simply didn’t know why. I could not protect you from the darker parts of being this person. Sure, we’re beautiful on the outside. It’s pretty to see us work, isn’t it? Still, we’re targets, and sometimes we can’t avoid being hit.”
Catherine frowned. “I never thought of it like that.”
“I regret not indulging you more, or allowing you into that part of my world, if only because I may have saved you the heartache of being hurt.”
“I’m okay now, Ma.”
Catrina nodded. “Now, yes, but you weren’t once.”
“Now is what matters.”
“Now is definitely what matters,” her mother echoed with a faint smile. “What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life?”
Catherine’s gaze widened. “Uh …”
“That is not an answer. College, what of it? You should be graduating this year, but we know it’s going to be at least one more. Where is your focus, school or hustling? Or both?”
“It was both,” Catherine said.
“Except it’s really not because clearly you focus on one much more than the other. The bigger problem is, I think you and I both know which one you enjoy the most, and the one you excel in.”
Yeah, Catherine did, too.
She’d known it when she was sixteen and hustled for the first time. She had simply done the same thing her mother had by attempting to be two people, only to realize she was doing that for others, and not for herself.
“And there’s nothing wrong being good at this, and wanting to make something of it,” Catrina added quieter, “but you give your all to one thing, Catherine, and succeed. You spread yourself thin, and—”
“I fail,” Catherine interjected.
Catrina leaned forward, and steepled her fingers together. “I control thirty women across the United States. I’ve trained them, I supply them, and they answer to only me. I would like for you to be one of them.”
“Is that all?”
“For now. You have a lot to learn, and I am the one person who is capable of teaching it to you in a way that will resonate and stick, reginella.”
“They’re all going to call me that, aren’t they?”
Catrina smirked. “Count on it. Are you interested?”
Catherine didn’t even have to think about it. “Very.”