| BOOK FOUR | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
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After Liam quite literally defaced Anthony Costello, he agreed to hospitalisation. Intermittent consciousness, high fevers and unbearable pain played a huge factor in his willingness. He's out of shape, physically, mentally and emotionally, and he knows, even if he's too stubborn to admit defencelessness aloud, convalescence is necessary before wars with the Italians arise.
Liam sleeps on the bed. He changed into a clean tracksuit before climbing under the threadlike sheets and allowed me to efface the dry blood from his discoloured jaw and abraded hands; I had applied unscented moisturiser to his fingers and knuckles, and the somniferous technique had his eyes closed within seconds.
Transfused blood was no longer a requirement for Liam, but the doctor restitched his lacerated lip and examined the inflamed stitches on his lower abdomen where fresh blood oozed from distended skin and surgical sutures threatened to divaricate; alongside the doctor, the pleasant anaesthesiologist administered opioids and fluids and assured that my husband is on the mend just as long as he doesn't lose composure when he awakens.
Nate cut his eyes to me. "I want to hire additional security from the barracks."
Due to Liam's recklessness this morning, the syndicate anticipates Alberto Moretti's vengeful reciprocation.
"I can station men at Club 11, The Grape and Vine and the casino." Nate plonked a folder on my lap. "It's a precaution against attack. Moretti's in no position to enter the hospital, not unless he's got a death wish, so he'll go for the next best thing. Warren's establishments."
"Why the casino? It's not even open for business." I studied the folder in bewilderment. "What's the document?"
"Open or not, we need to look after Warren's assets. So, with your permission, I'd like to hire those extra men, Alexa," he stressed, and my eyebrows slowly reached my hairline. "Preferably a signature."
We lost many men the night of the heist. "Since when did my opinion matter?"
"Since you married the boss," Brad said upon entering the room. He'd left two hours ago to grab a shower and to refuel. "I bought you a sandwich." He arranged store purchased items on the table: chicken salad, vegetable crisps and cucumber-infused water.
Guzzling from a Lucozade sports bottle, Brad tossed another folder on my lap and an overfilled handbag at my feet. "Gateway has a delivery tonight. Sign that so I can authorise drop-offs. Also, I swung by the Manor to pack some clean clothes for you both and found a moody teenager helping himself to the fridge in your kitchen." He arched an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"You met Logan." Flipping open the folders, I scribbled my signature across the dotted lines. "He's one of the teenagers from Inseparable Youths. Liam decided to kill his parents, so he's staying with us until further notice."
"Why am I only just hearing about this?" Brad side-eyed Nate. "You're a little quiet over there, Nate."
"I assumed the boss told you." Nate accepted the folder from my hand. "Take it up with him."
