If there is one thing about me that will never change it's that I'm a bit of a lone wolf. I don't like to be micromanaged, told what to do, or spoken to like a child. I also keep my cards close to my chest because I've seen enough to know that people can't be trusted. The mistake I see time and time again is when someone divulges too much information. It's important to maintain mystery, so no one can manipulate you. Personally, I like to keep people guessing. 

Yet, even someone like me isn't a completely free bird. I might move in the shadows alone, but there is always someone to answer to. In my case, it's The Sisters. Augusta and Jocelyn are the queens of San Francisco's dark underbelly. They control everything and know everything thanks to the countless eyes and ears out there working for them. It's not easy getting into their good graces, let alone becoming part of their circle since they trust very few people, yet here I am at their mansion on a crisp morning. I don't work for them, but I also don't make a move without their approval. 

Last night, I completed one task on my to-do list, and this morning, I'm checking off another. However, what I need has to wait a little longer since I have to smile, nod, and sit through brunch with these women. Not that I mind. Their chef is Michelin-rated. It's just that I don't like wasting time when I have things to do.

"How are your eggs?" Augusta asks from across the ridiculously long dining table meant to seat twenty-five people. 

"Fancier than I'm used to," I say, and Augusta laughs.

"Oh, Lucas, they're just poached."

"I guess I prefer pansita style."

"What style?" 

"Sunny side up," I clear my throat. "My mom says it looks like a little pot belly. A.K.A pansita." 

"Cute." 

"And how is your family?" Jocelyn asks.

"Fine." I shrug.

"Your father?"

"He's fine..." I take a big bite of the French Toast and say with a mouthful, "How's your father?"

I know better than to ask that, considering their father is completely paralyzed and needs twenty-four-hour care with someone to change his bedpans and spoon-feed him. It was an assassination attempt gone wrong, thanks to the Italian mob, and what catapulted Augusta to step into her father's shoes to take over the family business. Therefore, my question isn't digested well by either of the sisters, but hey at least it stopped the small talk.

I can't stand small talk. 

Most of all, I don't like talking about my father's illness. The man is losing his memory and it's a depressing subject. Plus, the pitiful looks people give are aggravating. He's going senile, but he's not a damn ASPCA commercial for abused animals. I hate the pity. So, I prefer to keep my answers brief.

After sitting through an excruciating yet delicious brunch, we move into the sitting room to sip coffee. The Sisters do things at their own pace and always drag things out as if they have all the time in the world. It's a control mechanism to show they have the upper hand in every situation. It's their world and we just live in it. I hate it, but I pretend that I, too, have all day while Augusta reads the morning paper, and Jocelyn browses on her tablet.

Thirty minutes of this bullshit goes by when Augusta finally sets the newspaper down and takes the last sip of her espresso.

"Alright, now, about Mario Caruso..." She reaches for her fancy cigarettes on the coffee table, then lights one. "What is this about him being in cahoots with Richie Reddy?" She blows out the smoke and crosses one leg over the other. "I'm guessing he's a dirty cop since his last name suggests he's related to Carmine Caruso?"

"Yeah, and I want to look into him. We both know the Italian mob has consistently tried to take back the territory. So, if the son of a mobster is inside Richie's pocket, this can't be good. Especially since Richie is trying to eliminate his competition to reach the top of the drug trade, so I want to know why he's paying a cop to look the other way. What is he doing, and how does it affect... well... us." 

Augusta flashes an amused smile and looks at Jocelyn. "We already have someone who wants to take care of Richie for us."

"What do you mean?" I furrow my brows. "We have a deal. I get first dibs on all contracts."

"Relax, Lucas," Jocelyn says. "This isn't a hired hit. It's a civilian who wants to take Richie out."

"A civilian? And you're going to let him?"

"Yes." Augusta blows out more smoke. "And I want you to follow him. Keep an eye out. I don't trust him."

I reel back with a huff. "Yet you'll allow him to kill Richie?" 

"It's complicated, Lucas," Jocelyn replies.

"Then uncomplicate for it me because none of this makes sense!"

"Excuse me?" Augusta's brows arch. "I don't appreciate your tone."

Taking a deep breath, I inch forward on their expensive cream-colored couch and look at both of them. "I can't be left in the dark. We made an agreement years ago. I'm your number one guy. How can we help each other if you leave out details."

"Perhaps if you had not jumped to conclusions, I could have clarified the situation for you," Augusta says, then takes another drag from her long cigarette, and blows the smoke away from me. "Are you done having a tantrum?"

"You know I hate it when you're patronizing."

"Stop playing with him," Jocelyn says. "I have a hair appointment at one."

Augusta laughs, "Don't be a poor sport, Lucas. You know I keep you well informed." She leans forward and flicks ash into a crystal tray on the coffee table. "The civilian who wants to kill Richie Reddy is Miguel Gomez."

That name rings in my head like a siren, but I don't allow the shock to reflect on my face. Instead, I take a sip of coffee and cross an ankle over my knee, and sit back. This person isn't just anyone. He's my damn coworker! Now our conversation from the other day makes sense.

"How did he know to ask you for permission?" I ask.

"Reina, the arms dealer, made the introduction." Augusta arches one brow as if saying, interesting, huh?

"Reina doesn't go out on a limb for just anyone. How does she know him?"

"This is where things get complicated," Augusta continues. "A woman was with them when Miguel came to ask for my approval, and she's the connection between Reina and him. Her name is Angelina Mendoza and her ex-husband does PR for Rohan Reddy."

"The guy you're backing to be the next mayor? Who also happens to be Richie's cousin."

"Precisely." Augusta nods. "This Angie woman wants her husband dead, too, and normally I wouldn't give a single fuck about a wife-beating asshole having his card punched, but as long as he's entangled with Rohan, I can't have him die just yet. Understand?"

"So... you want me to make sure they don't kill her husband?"

"Yes, and keep an eye on Miguel. He comes off as a hot head, so I can't have him going rogue."

"Then have me take care of Richie."

"No." Augusta shakes her head. "I don't want any of this tracing back to you. You're too important."

"Ah, gee, you're making me blush," I scoff.

"I mean it, Lucas. There are a lot of moving parts here, and we need Richie gone, but if any of this traces back to us it could create a war. The last thing we need is an uprising with our allies fighting against us for having one of them killed. I'm trying to move these chess pieces as gracefully as possible. Miguel Gomez is expendable. If things go sideways, we can wash our hands and have him take the fall. I know what I'm doing and I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you."

"Good. So, you'll keep an eye on him for me?"

"I shall," I sigh.

"Was there anything else that you needed?"

"No. I just wanted the two of you to know that Richie mingles with a dirty cop who happens to be the son of a mobster who tried to kill your father."

"You did good." Augusta nods. "It confirms that we need to eliminate Richie. He has become poison to the territory, and the added element of the mob being involved makes me uncomfortable, but as always, I'll deal with it. My family didn't work this hard to gain control of San Francisco to have some Italian scum take it away from us. They will ruin everything we've built. There has been peace with my family governing everything, and I will go to my grave protecting that peace."

"I should get going," I say.

"Where are you off to now?" Jocelyn asks. 

"To see Frankie. I need her expertise."

Augusta chuckles, "Still using her to research potential clients?"

"What can I say, she's the best when it comes to discovering the fine details."

"Who's the latest client?" Jocelyn asks.

"A man named Tony Giordano. A pretty boy with striking blue eyes."

"Giordano." Augusta narrows her gaze. "Is he a mobster?"

"You should know. Didn't you send him to me?"

"No." She shakes her head and looks at Jocelyn. "Did you?"

"No. Perhaps Kay did. Shall we ask him?" She stretches her arm and rolls her wrist into position to snap her fingers, so their giant bodyguard will emerge from wherever he's listening, but I intervene.

"It's fine." I wave my hand. "This is why I've got Frankie. She'll uncover Tony's dirty secrets. If he's an informant or part of the Italian Mob, we'll find out and I'll handle it."

"I'll ask Kay anyway. Better to be sure," Jocelyn says. 

"Sure, do what you must." I stand and smooth down my pants. "I gotta run."

"I'll walk you out." Jocelyn rises.

We exit the sitting room and begin walking toward the front door when a bulky shape appears in my peripheral. It's Kay, and we exchange head nods. We're friends in a loose sense of the word since I trust no one in this dark world. The only people I can count on are my family. However, I don't tell Kay that. He isn't my enemy, but I still have to keep him close like one.

The guy is a giant tower of muscles that stands six feet and eight inches tall. Most people are intimidated by him, and rightfully so. He could snap someone's spine with his hands easily, but I've known him long enough to see he's a bag of mush on the inside. Especially when it comes to Jocelyn. He worships the ground she walks on. 

"I need a favor," Jocelyn says when we step outside.

"What's on your mind?" I stop and turn to her.

The morning is bright, with the sun bouncing off the lush, pristine grass in the garden, where workers with wide-brim hats prune the infinite rows of rose bushes. So, I pull out my shades and slip them on. I've known Jocelyn longer than Augusta, but not by much. We met at Penthouse one night ages ago. Her stiletto snapped while walking up to the VIP section and she nearly broke her ankle, but I caught her before she stumbled down the stairs. I then helped her do a temporary mend on the heel while one of her security guards ran off to buy her a brand new pair of Christian Louboutins. The woman lives in red-bottomed shoes. Probably sleeps in them, too. 

Long story short, the pink breast cancer awareness ribbon on my chest caught her eye, and we bonded over my mother battling breast cancer because her mother passed away from it when she was little. Jocelyn took a liking to me that night, and anytime she came to the club, she always requested that I make her drinks, and she always tipped me generously. Then one day, she asked if I wanted to make extra cash. My parents were buried in medical bills, and it was a simple gig of picking up rent money from tenants, but it paid well. So, I said yes.

Being a hitman isn't what I dreamed of becoming as a child, and sure as shit wasn't what I planned during Career Day in high school. No, it snuck up on me—a necessity for survival.

Because I will do ANYTHING for the people I love. 

"It's Augusta..." Jocelyn sighs. "She's up to something with Emilio Suarez. We've always played nice with the cartel while keeping them at a respectful distance, but this is different. I know they fuck."

I nearly choke on my spit. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She thinks I don't know, but Kay told me that Emilio is on the security cameras coming and going from here at all hours of the night, and le'ts just say these walls aren't exactly thick. Our staff has heard them."

"Ok... so they mess around. Your sister is an attractive women with warm blood running through her veins. Good for her for getting some."

"Lucas." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "This is serious." She glances around and lowers her voice, "I don't like the direction my sister is taking us. She thinks she has a firm grasp of control, but I see her moves as reckless."

"Ok... and what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Keep an eye on her and report anything suspicious to me. There are very few people she trusts and you're one of them. You can get closer to her than most... including me."

"I'm not a spy, Jocelyn."

She narrows her eyes at me. "You research clients and their targets before you accept a contract. That's spying."

"That's different."

"How?"

"I don't want to get in the middle of you and Augusta. It doesn't feel right."

"Oh, so suddenly you have morals?" Jocelyn scoffs.

"And on that note..." I hold up a peace sign, but Kay blocks my path to the stairs. "Seriously, dude?"

"You haven't been dismissed," he says. 

So, I roll my gaze to Jocelyn, my nostrils flaring with a deep, agitated inhale. She steps closer and drops her tone into a whisper. 

"Augusta hasn't been taking her meds."

"Meds?"

Jocelyn sighs again, lament spreading across her face like an ink drop in water. "I'm afraid she's... manic."

"Manic?" 

"It's a secret, but she was diagnosed when she was a teen, and takes medicine to control it. There have been occasions when she has stopped taking her meds, and sh'll go so nuts she almost has to be hospitalized against her will. So, I'm worried it's happening again. The signs are all there."

"What kind of signs."

"Paranoia, for one," Jocelyn explains. "And irrational emotional outbursts followed by fits of intense crying. But that's just the mild stuff. Augusta can get really scary when she's off her meds for too long, and she won't listen to reason until she's threatened with hospitalization. So, I hope you can appreciate my concern since she's the one running things and her decisions affect all of us."

"Alright." I shrug. "I'll keep an eye on her, but your sister has been good to me, so I still don't like being put in the middle."

"I've been good to you." Jocelyn points to her chest. "I brought you into the fold."

"I know."

"Good. I shouldn't have to remind you of my generosity over the years."

Internally, I am raging. I cannot stand being talked down to or having things dangled over me. Threats are never a way to get me to do something. On the outside, however, I am calm and bite my tongue.

"No, you certainly don't need to remind me," I say with a neutral tone and an unbothered expression. "I need to get going." 

"Remember." Jocelyn grabs my elbow. "Report back anything suspicious."

"I will. I really do have to get going." 

Which isn't a lie. During my sit down with the Sisters, I received a text from Hazel saying she can meet me at one PM. That means I only have an hour to get to Frankie's so she can give me the lowdown on Mario Caruso, and my potential client, Tony.

My heart is already racing about seeing Hazel's beautiful self again. 

She has no idea I'm going to become her Knight in Shining Armor.

I will protect her at all costs.