Reno Gabrini - Mallory Monroe

PROLOGUE

He was just getting his groove back. She was already enjoying it, but it was taking him more time than it usually took for him to get into it too. And it wasn’t because she was undesirable. He would not have invited her to his bed had she not had something going for her ass. But it was just that he wasn’t feeling it.

And then, to make matters worse, his bedroom door got kicked in.

But he was a pro, and he didn’t hesitate.

While the girl was screaming as if somebody was already killing her, Giovanni “Von” Dorsey grabbed his loaded Magnum off the nightstand, flung his muscle-tight body off of his woman onto his back, and with his pistol pointing straight at the fool who dared to barge into his place, he was ready to pull the trigger.

But when he saw who it was, he frowned and dropped his weapon to his side.

“Fuck!” he said with angry adrenalin, his heart still hammering. “What you barging in here like that for?”

It was his father’s bodyguard who had kicked the door in. Now it was his father, Mustafa Dorsey, who was walking into the bedroom with his hands behind his back, and with a letter-sized manilla envelope in one of those hands. And he didn’t mince words. “Get rid of the girl,” he said as he walked toward the bedroom window, looking around the room as if he was an inspector.

Von didn’t like to be handled. Especially in front of people. But what was he going to do about it? Tell his old man to get lost? That would be a life-altering mistake he was smart enough to never make. He told the girl to get lost instead.

She was pissed, he could tell, but she knew the kind of family she was dealing with. She was one of the hookers on his old man’s payroll. She knew they’d just as soon toss her out a window than listen to her complaints. That was why she got out of bed without delay, gathered up her clothing that had been discarded all over the floor, and then hurried out of the room. The bodyguard left the room too.

Von flung his legs from beneath the covers, tossed his gun back onto his nightstand, and slipped on his pair of pants that had been thrown to the floor when he and his date first arrived. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and liter out of his nightstand drawer, and lit up. His ribbed abs pushed in and out with every drag. He can’t recall the last time he had a nice, relaxing night at home without some serious interruption.

His father walked over by the bed and sat in the chair in the room, folded his leg across his thigh, and stared at his youngest son.

Von took another long drag on his cigarette and then lifted his head as he blew rings of smoke into the air. Then he looked at his father. He loved his old man more than life itself. But it was an unhealthy love because he hated him too. He hated him for the man he turned him into. “You plan on telling me what this is about?” Von asked him.

His father threw the letter-sized envelope at his son so fast that Von, caught off guard, fumbled with it before he was able to wrestle it into his control. And that sense of dread came over him again. Because he knew what those envelopes meant. His father had an enemy, and it was his job to take that enemy out.

But when Von opened the envelope and pulled out the photograph, he frowned. It was a full-sized picture of a gorgeous black girl who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen or nineteen. What the fuck? He looked at his old man. “She’s the target?” he asked him.

Mustafa Dorsey gave his son that look of displeasure Von knew so well. “No, she’s not the target,” Mustafa said. “The man on the moon is the target. The girl that just left this room is the target. Of course she’s the target you fucking idiot! Why you asking me something that stupid?”

“It was a question, Pop.”

“It was a stupid question!”

Fuck you, Von inwardly said. “Who is she?” he asked out loud.

Mustafa settled back down. “Her name’s Sophia. Sophia Gabrini.”

Von looked at his father as if he knew he misheard him.

But his father nodded. “Yes, that Gabrini. She’s Reno Gabrini’s

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