CHAPTER 6

 

The air in the clubhouse always smelt like sweat, and anxiety, a scent that had planted itself in Rafe Santos' head after two years of hard strategic training. He was seated alone trying to set up some things when Marcus came.

 The Vice President of the Devils was in his late-thirties but he looked so cold, with eyes that always assessed Rafe like he was a balance sheet or something.

"Hey boy?” Marcus called, slightly in a mocking tone but his voice sharp.

"Yes sir." Rafe replied respectfully letting his voice carry the precise, calculated arrogance required for his cover. His gaze was firm at him, fearless and controlled, just what he needed.

Marcus’s lips curled softly as he stared, but a flicker of something passed through his eyes and Rafe caught it immediately.

"The Boss needs these ledgers verified and cross-checked with the Moretti Family’s secondary accounts," Marcus stated, shoving a stack of heavy binders onto the conference table. "And you’ll do it here and now."

Doing it here and now has somewhat become a slogan for him as it was his way of punishing Rafe. He never liked him, right from day one and still didn't like him.

Rafe worked fast and desperately, running through the numbers on the ledge and the Moretti’s account not minding Marcus’s heavy, judgmental and annoying gaze.

He didn't leave, he was looking for any mistakes, watching and calculating every moment Rafe’s shoulders stiffened, or took a break.

He’d be quick to caution him with his harsh voice to keep working.

Rafe was drowning in sweat, Marcus had doubled his work load by asking him to recalculate the percentages, fetching some specific ledgers. The Moretti family moves a lot of cash through here. Our job is to make it look like a small time bar profits. The handwritten numbers were accurate and well calculated, clean, and intentionally misleading.

Truly, in here, money flowed in high volumes, split through dozens of businesses, restaurants, auto-repair shops, and even a non-profit charity. The scale was really scary, the height these men could go to launder money.

At the same time, the Bureau grows impatient. Pressure increases. Basically, the main fear is for Rafe not to be caught or betray them. They were demanding reports on daily basis. The timelines they were giving was top short and Rafe is given deadlines that leave no room for hesitation.

 The message was clear, finish the job or be pulled out. Camila Vega on the othee hand had noticed the change before anyone else. She is Rafe's closest friend... the only person who's his only un-official family member.

She has been in love with Rafe for years now, silently, painfully, while waiting even though she has no without expectation, unknown to her that the man she loved was now being fucked by a higher power and somehow, he was falling. At first, she warned him gently, then the warnings increased, this time desperately. She felt something was wrong and Rafe calculated all of these in his mind now, as he did the ledger.

The way thoughts swirled in his mind and moved at the speed of light was scary and the realization of everything sent shivers down his spine, and Marcus noticed the sudden tremble. The deeper Rafe goes, the more Camila fears she's losing him... not to danger, but to devotion. Rafe insists he's still in control. Camila knows it's a lie.

"You make mistakes that a rookie wouldn’t make." Marcus’s voice thundered across the room walking over and tapping his shoulder.

"I’m sorry… I was just tired," Rafe replied, his voice low. "I’ve worked hard."

"You act like you’ve never worked this hard before," Marcus scolded, his eyes burning with rage.

"You’ve been acting like you’re waiting for something to go wrong."

Rafe didn't answer. He just went back to work, adding and subtracting numbers. He knew Marcus never liked him, so he wasn’t going to argue with him on a mistake he already apologized for. It would only lead to more yapping and probably a fight would break out and that would be the end of the mission.

Suddenly, a sharp sound came from behind him as the door flung open. The air immediately felt heavier with fear as the footsteps increased.

Rafe suddenly felt it, the looming shadow behind him even before he sees who was there. Rafe shifted as silence wrapped around him like a string.

He turned and his eyes met directly with the man that commands respect without a word. Dante Moretti standing at the center of the room. solid and unmovable, like everything else rotates round him. Power always clung to him without effort, more like it was magnetic.

Dante’s gaze was fixed on him and it just didn’t slide away. He has been away for some time and the way he looked, he was clearly tired.

"Marcus," Dante said, his voice low, and his face unreadable. "You leave us. Santos is working late tonight. The raw data for the cycle needs to be clean run."

Working late? Rafe knew exactly what that meant and didn't say a word, he just kept on punching the keys and scribbling digits on the ledgers.

Marcus stood up and headed out immediately. However, as Dante looked away and before Marcus shut the door, he whispered at Rafe. "Don't waste his time."

The door shut immediately as Dante turned around. He leaned down, placing one hand on the table beside Rafe. The other sitting on the back of Rafe’s chair.

 The scent of his perfume mixed with the foul smell that was always came from the club and filled the air.

"You're quiet," Dante said. "Men who are quiet usually hide something."

Rafe met his gaze, suddenly forcing seriousness into his expression.

 "Or they just listen." He added, not looking at him.

"Listening keeps you alive," Dante murmured, his eyes piercing deep into Rafe’s own.

 "But remember… this is the Devil’s Crimson." The words settled deep into Rafe’s soul. They didn’t come out as a threat, but more like a warning he couldn't just ignore. These days, Dante hadn't been around and whenever he returned, he felt stiff around Rafe and he could notice it everything, always questioning his silence and sounding threatening.

He stepped back now, reclaiming the space like it had always belonged to him. He leaned in closer, his breath heavy on Rafe’s skin and his fingers lingered softly.

His heart pounded hard as passion met desire, but the feeling was cut short by the sudden change of tone.

"I want this done by sunset tomorrow. Don’t make me regret trusting you." He warned.

The door shut behind him with a final, echoing click. Rafe took a deep breath when he was out, and his eyes narrowed. He could feel the cracks in the wall, the trust, everything his undercover was built on was slowly falling apart. He felt he was going get fucked tonight, but for the very first time, he left him, hanging in desire and deep down, he knew something was definitely wrong somewhere and he had to find out fast, else he may be consumed.