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JAMESA month? A fucking month? "Are you serious? You want to take Bambi away from me?""Who the fuck is Bambi?"I tap against the gun at my side. "This sweet little thang right here.""Well, that sweet little thang is no longer yours. Bambi and badge on my desk in five."Goddammit."Way to go, dumbass," Larry sneered from the side.I wanted to smash his face in, but assaulting a fellow officer would be the final nail in my career coffin right now. Besides, I needed to act like a grownup, not letting insults get to me."I knew your brown ass wouldn't last around here."Ah, fuck. How was I supposed to act like the grownup now?"It's African, you fucking tit-head!" I launched myself forward and punched him in the face, hammering that last nail into my now-dead career. And since that career was already bolted shut with a fuck-load of nails, I punched the asshole again. Why? Because I fucking wanted to. It was like trashing the school with toilet paper. You didn't know why the fuck you did it. You just did it because it was fun.It took three other guys about twelve-point-three seconds to take my gun, and my badge, and haul my ass out of the station and onto the fucking pavement.Jesus Christ. Suspended for a month? How the fuck was I supposed to continue my investigation of the Bologna if I was nothing more than a damn civilian, unable to use all my detective perks to get the information I needed?I kicked at the ground beneath me and pulled my hands through my hair, feeling like I was about to burst a damn aneurysm in my brain. It was when I looked to the left that I saw the hard-on triggering ass get into a black Mercedes. Vanessa Bologna.She didn't know I'd just been suspended and tossed onto the curb like a loser. Vanessa didn't know I didn't have any right to keep tabs on her, or to harass her anymore - not that I did in the first place. But so not the point.If I had any chance of proving my suspicions about the Bologna were correct, and thus getting the commander and his damn suspension off my ass, I was going to have to go about this in a completely different way.I took out my phone and grinned as I slid my finger across the screen.Hell, at least I was going to have so much fun.****πππππππVANESSAMy heart was still beating frantically. And my skin still felt like it was on fire, all because of one arrogant, overly confident, egotistical male with devil eyes and a smirk that could melt panties everywhere. For the last half hour, I'd had a constant prickle of warning in the back of my head. Detective Gunner was a temptation I needed to stay clear of.I leaned back in the seat of the car and inhaled, counting to four, and then exhaled. Maybe if I did a few breathing exercises, my heartbeat would normalize.I tried it a few times, and it seemed like it was helping since I no longer felt the overwhelming urge to make a slut out of myself.It was about half an hour's drive back home, so I grabbed my phone, thinking it might be a good idea to interact a little with my one point two million followers.One thousand, two hundred and nineteen notifications in under forty minutes. How was that even possible? Did these people sit around waiting for public figures to update their status so they could comment and pokeβto their little heart's content?Were these people even aware there were things like world hunger and global warming? Things that were way more important than what I had for lunch, or what Kim Kardashian wore to the damn beach.I opened the F******k app and clicked on my notifications bar, marking all as read. If I replied to every comment made, I'd be here until next Tuesday.Just as I was about to close the app, I paused, wondering β¦Scrolling to my list of followers, I started typing in "Gunner." I had no idea what his first name was, but if he'd managed to get my latest status update back at the station, he must be following me.And, sure as shit, there he was... James Gunner. James. Such a mundane name for such an asshat. If it weren't for me recognizing that sinfully gorgeous face, I never would have guessed it was him.I knew I shouldn't. I really shouldn't, but I clicked on his profile anyway.As I scrolled down his timeline, I noticed there wasn't much going on, since his last status update was two months ago saying, "I'm drunk. That is all." That was so attractive.I rolled my eyes and went to the about section. He had Self-Employed listed as his job, which made me snort since I knew that was a crock of bull. But it did make sense he wouldn't go put Detective on something as public as F******k, especially when he was investigating my father.My stomach turned at the thought. Not that it was anything new. The police had been investigating my father for as long as I could remember, but they'd never managed to get any concrete evidence against him.My father was as intelligent as he was cunning. Hell, I was his daughter, and if it weren't for a conversation about the Vecna-Nosta which I just happened to hear between my parents ten years ago, I never would have suspected my father was a mafia boss. Back then, I didn't even know what that meant, or what it entailed. And when I heard my dad say the words "managing protection rackets," I knew it meant something bad. I was too young to understand back then, but not anymore. I knew exactly what it meant now and if I wasn't careful, it was going to be the end of me. Especially if Detective Gunner had anything to say about it.πππππππVANESSAAbout five years ago, the heat on my father and his activities was pretty intense. Until the Morellos moved in on what my dad called our territory. Then the heat got worse as the Morellos started wreaking havoc on the streets. I wasn't exactly sure what they did, but by the way, my dad and brothers always cursed whenever the subject of the Morellos came up, I'd say it was pretty bad shit.Still scrolling down James' page, I decided there wasn't much else to see or to stalk. So, I went back to my page, contemplating whether I should remove James Gunner as a follower. He was probably using it to keep tabs on me, watching me, waiting for me to slip up so he could get what he wantedβincriminating shit on my family. Plus, now he knew ninety per cent of my status updates were bullshit anyway. What if he called me out on it?While I stared at the screen, a notification popped up saying James Gunner commented on your post.Shit, shit, shit.I slid my finger across the s
πππππJAMESI stepped into my apartment to meet it as neat and perfect as I left it. It was so motherfucking clean that if you wanted, you could sleep inside my toilet. If you took into consideration what my apartment looked like, you'd say I was a neat freak. My sister would die a slow and painful death if she saw this place because she knows she'll never be able to keep up.There were empty beer bottles neatly tucked in the corner of the living room. From where I stood, my kitchen looked as white as snow, all my utensils were shining as if a star had hit them or something. You couldn't find one microwavable plastic instant meal container anywhere in the kitchen sink, and empty cans of soda were nearly nonexistent around the house. Although I used them to quench my morning-after thirst, I made sure there were no traces of them on the counter.The way most people saw it, I was a detective, not a domesticated pansy. I should have much better things to do with my time than cleaning
πππππJAMESRoman stared at me for what felt like a million years. He looked apprehensive as if he was trying to gauge how the formation was going to affect me. After a few more seconds, I couldn't take it again. "Roman!" I grunted, sending him a scowl.Roman rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "Okay, okay, chill. Now answer me this, when did the Morello's move into town, Gunner?""Five years ago," I replied. And then I clicked. I suddenly understood where he was going with this. "But it doesn't fit into the timeframe of all the child disappearances," I reasoned. If what Roman Anderson was trying to tell me was true, then he would have to make it all fit in my head. If not, It was going to be pretty difficult for me to believe him. It wasn't my fault. That was just how detectives were wired.Roman lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll know it was about five years ago that drugs started to flow into these streets." He s
πππππππ VANESSA I stared at my phone and wondered if I should update my status and let the world know I was on my way to Daniel's birthday party at Bolivia nightclub. But that would be stupid. Plus, it would be a recipe for a stampede. If I were honest with myself, I'd admit the only reason I would want to do something so stupid would be to see if he was still keeping an eye on my profile. And would he react? Or would he suspect it was just another ruse, a ploy at creating a little entertainment for my followers? God, I felt so pathetic even considering it. In any case, I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize the little freedom my brothers and I were given. Usually, our dad didn't condone us hanging out at bars or nightclubs, and we hardly ever did. Being Italian came with a lot of rules and family morals everyone needed to adhere to. From an early age, we were taught to wear sophistication as a second skin and never to disgrace the family. We were
πππππππVANESSAI heard my father clear his throat as I approached him.He turned and tried to muster a sweet smile, which I was sure was not humanly possible when it came to my dad."Everything okay, Dad?" I asked and he gave me a nod, took off his suit jacket and placed it by his briefcase before taking off his tie and loosening the top two buttons of his shirt.I kept staring at the tattoo on the top of his hand, the symbol that represented our family-the wolf. The symbol consisted of chains weaved together to form a wolf's face, almost like a tribal sign. Both my brothers and all my uncles and cousins who have decided to devote their lives to the family business have the same symbol tattooed on their hands. My mom, like all the other women in our family, has it on the inside of her wrist. Everyone who had gone through the initiation ceremony received that symbol and wore it as a sign of their loyalty and commitment to the Bologna legacy.I was the only Bologna who hadn't be
πππππππVANESSAWithin half an hour, we were at the club and Daniel parked the car outside, but as I was about to get out, Antonio turned in his seat to face me. "Tonight is special, Vanessa. Could you at least try to behave yourself tonight?"My mouth dropped open. "Oh, my God, Antonio, are you serious right now?" This is un-fucking-believable."I'm dead serious, Vanessa. Make sure you stay close to me all night. I don't want you out of my sight at all. That's how serious this is."I crossed my arms and pouted. Yes...I pout. Sue me. "Fine, bodyguard. Anything else? Would you like me to duct tape my hip to yours? Or maybe I could put a big flashing neon sign on my forehead that reads 'I have no life!'"Antonio rolled his eyes. "Grow up, Nessa. And stop being so dramatic.""Grow up, Nessa, and stop being so dramatic," I mouthed in a mocking tone, making sure to use Antonio's 'I'm the boss' voice.Antonio got out of the car, and Daniel turned in his seat to face me."What?" I gro
πππππ JAMES It was nine forty-five, and I was sitting at the bar in Bolivia and staring at the whiskey in my glass. There was no doubt in my mind they would show up tonight. It was Daniel Bologna's birthday today, and everyone knew Daniel was notorious for his party, being the wild one of the Bologna brothers. I also happened to know this was one of his favorite spots. Bolivia was known for its upper-class clientele. It was a three-story club with a bar on the lower level where luxurious leather couches surrounded the black and white checkered dance floor. The second floor was more like a gallery that overlooked the rest of the club and the top floor was something of a mystery to everyone who wasn't someone. The second floor was where all the big VIP fuckers sat, pretending they were watching over their little kingdom of drunken souls. There they were served by waitresses dressed in nothing but shiny red miniskirts and matching crop tops. I was also pretty sure on
πππππJAMESA waitress with a tray full of shots walked past them and leaned down while Antonio and Daniel each took a glass. When Vanessa tried to reach for one, Antonio waved the waitress away, leaving Vanessa empty-handed. By the way, she pouted and crossed her arms, I knew she was pissed off. I couldn't stop myself from smiling. She was cute when she was pissed off. She was cute when she smiled too. She was always cute, no matter what she did. I'm such a fucking weirdo. For the next hour and a half, I sat there and watched a lot of them. Daniel had three girls draped over him like Sunday morning's laundry. Antonio was watching a woman dance on the table in front of him, giving him his show. Lucky son of a bitch. What I did notice was Vanessa had been going to the ladies' room quite a lot during the last hour. Something else I noticed tooβwhich her brothers didn'tβwas she had been sneaking in shots en route to and from the ladies' room. Clever girl. The barten