His Mafia Queen

The Circle of Lust and Love

Gabriel

By the time my men leave, I'm tired and pissed. While the hit on the Russian went well, something about it doesn't sit well with me.

I've never known the Russians to situate themselves in Savannah. Atlanta, sure. Miami, of course. But a small tourist city on the ocean, where there is little criminal activity or industry?

Something is off.

But the drink I had is taking the edge off, at least until my cell rings. It's Andre, who's gone home for the night. I tap the screen and he's on speakerphone.

"Sir, I have news on the girl."

I stifle a growl. "Yes?"

"She did go straight to Catherine's gallery. She stayed for about an hour and a half, and according to our guy, she's headed in your direction now. He's following her at a discreet distance."

"Good. Anything suspicious? Did anyone talk to her? Anyone besides the obvious, of course?"

"She spent most of her time with Catherine. It seemed as though it was all on the up and up, they talked about art and Riley's job as a reporter. One of the State Representatives gave Riley her business card. Riley had one drink, a small glass of champagne. She refused the smoky cocktail."

Not as awful as I thought, considering the fiasco at the bar a while back. "Anything else?"

Andre clears his throat, and I know I'm in for a gut punch. "There was a man."

"A man?" I clench my fingers into a fist, twisting my arm so I can see the veins pop on the underside of my wrist.

"Apparently his name is Beckett Sinclair. He owns a bookstore near the gallery. He approached Riley and they had a conversation for a few moments. He's the only person she spoke with alone, other than Catherine. All the other conversations were in groups."

I click a pen a few times.

"Sir?" Andre finally says.

"What did they talk about?"

The sound of papers rustling hits my ear. "Uh, they discussed art, and going to school in New York. Apparently it was awkward because Riley was staring at..."

"At what?" I spit.

"At a giant portrait of you. Catherine's lined the walls with her paintings, and many are of you."

"Oh Jesus Christ." I roll my eyes and sigh. "Thank you, Andre. That will be all for tonight, get some sleep."

I hang up and shut my eyes. Lately it seems like when one problem is solved — like the Russian piece of shit that we killed tonight — two others pop up. Tonight, it's this Beckett character and the fact that Catherine has my face plastered all over her gallery.

While I'd given her permission to use a couple of paintings she'd done when we were in college, I wasn't aware she was planning on wallpapering the place with my likeness.

What had Riley thought when she saw that? "Fuck," I mutter aloud.

Had we been together, I could've explained it to her. Could've told her that Cath used to sketch me while we were studying, that Cath had always been sketching in those days, that it was nothing.

At least, I hadn't thought it was significant. To Cath, it was something entirely different, as I've since discovered.

And what about this Beckett guy? While I'm not inclined to feel threatened, I do have a jealous streak. It's not something I'm eager to show Riley, though, and I've tried hard to keep it under wraps during our relationship.