Authentic Imposter by Hazel Jonas
Prologue
Glen
is fathoms beneath me.
I forgot how much I enjoy it.
Well, except for the blood on my wedding shoes. I’m dreading the task of cleaning these up good enough to hand them over to a shoe shiner.
I wore these miserable shoes to break them in, not get them dirty!
I expected to sit around in meetings, arguing with an old fart who thinks he knows best but regularly forgets his own address. Maybe I’d do some frustrating nitpicking in a warehouse to get some extra steps in. Or go on an angry drive around the city to blow off steam. Or sneak into my fiancée’s apartment and beg for a foot rub because these pointed toes are killing me.
None of that shit happened.
I find myself standing in mud at the edge of a river bank with a man on his knees before me. He shivers in his silk monogrammed pajamas, one of his own ties shoved in his stupid mouth. But I gotta give the old man some credit. He snarls around the gag like an animal. Dark eyes wild with fury. Despite the cold cutting him to the bone, his chest rises and falls in bursts. Stephon Rossi is ready for a fight.
Admittedly, I don’t remember why. Or how long I’ve stood here looming over him in his backyard. Ugh, the insurance on this place must be ridiculous. One good rain storm and the river’s one with the basement. Might not be a horrible way to get rid of a few bodies, though.
The whole day’s been nothing but a blur. I think a therapist would consider it a normal response to a near-death experience. But I don’t have time to be traumatized. Fuckery is afoot, and it’s my job to cover it up.
Sirens wail in the distance. Stephon’s snarl turns into a shit-eating grin. My eyes roll.
“They ain’t coming for you, Stephon. No one gives a shit about a dead crime boss’ advisor.”
I yank the tie free from his mouth and narrowly miss his snapping jaw. For the piss-poor attempt, I backhand him. Stephon’s head snaps to one side, but his expression stays the same.
“You can’t cover this up!” he cackles. “The Oddfather’s death will destroy you!”
Aww, he thinks I killed the Oddfather. I’m flattered, really.
“Already did, idiot. You think I would have bothered with you otherwise?”
“You’re the head of the DiLoreto crime family. You shouldn’t bother with any cover-ups, idiot,” he snaps back.
The advisor’s got a point.
I shrug. “Silver’s unavailable, his girl’s in trouble.”
And his girl trouble is suddenly my problem. Go figure. Poor Lilly. She’s nice to him once and BAM! Silver’s addicted to her. If anybody asks me, they’re both weirdos.
Stephon blinks slowly. He’s doing it on purpose.
“What was on the Oddfather’s books for this morning?”
“Fuck if I know. It’s a Sunday.”
“Ah, good to know. Is that why his security was so light?”
Stephon’s eyes narrow. “Knock it off with the small talk. You’ve got me on my knees with a fractured skull. Your days are numbered. Might want to talk faster.”
“Fine. What the fuck is Lilly Vale?”
Stephon’s jaw drops and then closes. “Are you drunk?”
“No. I’m tired. I’ve been up since six a.m. yesterday because I had a last-minute meeting with the Oddfather. I’m running on four hours of sleep at best. In which your boss got himself butchered by uttering some bullshit in Latin to his daughter-in-law!” I yell.
Stephon pales. His facade falls away. “I warned him not to do it.”
“Do what?” I snap.
“Put her in the trance. After Eli’s death... Witt assumed Eli’d done something wrong.”
“What. Is. She?” I growl.
“An experiment gone right,” he says through tight lips. “Just like your brother.”
I bark out a laugh. The sound echoes off the surrounding rocks. “I don’t have a brother.”
Unholstering my gun, I pause for a moment to debate bludgeoning him to death or shooting him.
“Where do you think Silver came from?”
My hands freeze, eyes slowly rolling up to meet Stephon’s.
“Silver’s birth certificate is in my office. Along with the journal the doctor kept on Lilly.”
“Bullshit.”
“Silver is your brother, like it or not.”
Flames of anger lick my skin. My vision twitches around the edges with red. “My mother was a saint. She was devoted to my father-”
“I never implied she wasn’t any of those things.”
It isn’t until I’ve unloaded my full clip into Stephon that I notice I’m shooting. The gun falls from my hand. Fuck. That’s a rookie mistake. A deadly one too.
My plan was to make Stephon’s death look like a suicide. That’s obviously out the door. But I can work with this. If anyone happens to find this jackass’s body, I’ll come up with an excuse. In fact, talking shit about my mother is a damn good one.
A shudder runs down my spine. Silver’s not my brother. That’s ridiculous for a hundred different reasons. We’re close in age, I would have remembered my mom being pregnant, and we look nothing alike. Ridiculous.
Cleaning up my tracks at Stephon’s takes forever. The sun is nearly rising by the time I find the journal and files in his office safe. At least he made it easy for me. The damn thing was open, like he was expecting me.
Or maybe he was expecting Silver.
Given the Oddfather’s plan to kill me and keep Lilly under his thumb, Silver would have gone rogue. If I wanted to get back at the man who's got my girl on a leash, his cocky advisor would be my first stop.
Once I’m a few miles away, gnawing curiosity forces me to pull over at a gas station. The manila folder on my passenger seat screams out to me.
Picking up the folder, I can’t feel the grain of the paper or the sharp edge of the metal closer as I open it. Blood rushing past my ears drowns out everything around me. Fuck, I don’t get nervous. I get even. I get angry.
Inside is a single blue-ish paper. Without pulling it out, I know it’s a local birth cert. I’ve seen thousands of fakes fly off the printers in the basement below my clubs.
That’s all this is. The document’s forged.
Pulling out the cert in one harsh movement, I run my gaze over it. It belongs to one Rex Woods. My mother’s maiden name jumps out at me as if it’s written in red ink and sixty-point font. The father’s name is blank. The date of birth is one and a half years before my own. The place of birth is a federal prison.
I dry heave, tossing the offending document away.
No. I can’t. I can’t acknowledge this. Whatever the fuck it is.
Not now. Not ever.
I need a fucking shower. Stat.
Driving away, I cross the entire city before I remember how many safe houses I passed.
Once I’m at a safe house, in the bathroom under the scalding water, my mind scrambles for any tiny stable thought it can grasp.
Caite. My fiancée. Her apartment isn’t far from this place.
It’s five a.m. She won’t be up yet. My lady is a night owl.
I don’t bother calling her until I’m in the parking garage under her place, my skin clean and clothes good enough. Anything stained with blood is a heap of ash in a metal barbecue.
My fingers struggle to tap on Caite’s contact. Anyone watching me would mistake me for a tweaker. Anger builds with each missed click, but eventually I dial her.
Caite answers after several rings. I swear twenty minutes go by.
“Glen?” she rasps.
“Buzz me in,” I say. The anger is evident in my tone. I cringe. “Shit, sorry, baby. I’m not angry with you.”
“Why are you here?” she asks, sounding half awake. She probably didn’t even catch my anger.
“The Oddfather is dead.”
I didn’t intend to blurt it out. Fuck me.
Silence on the other end of the line greets my fuck-up.
“I’ll buzz you up.” Caite’s voice shakes.
“Thank you, baby. See you in a second.”
The buzzer on the door grates on my nerves, the sound shrill and droning. I’d shoot the thing if I had bullets!
The closer I get to Caite’s room, the more exhausted I become. Each movement happens in slow motion. The hallway, the elevator, another hallway, and rapping my fist against her door.
The leather-bound journal and manila folder tucked under my elbow feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. I refuse to let them leave my person. They’re the key to all the mayhem I witnessed tonight. All the bloodshed I waded through in my fancy shoes. All the bullshit I’m about to cover up with even more violence.
Caite lets me in. Her blond hair is down around her shoulders. She wears a rumpled white tank top and blue cotton shorts that cut off so high they might as well be underwear.
I stumble in, half from exhaustion, half because I’m not watching where I’m going because my eyes are locked on her naked legs. I am a very simple man.
The closing door plunges us into darkness. Caite moves in front of me. She cups my face with her hands, standing an arm’s length away.
Another blunt, stupid statement tumbles from my mouth. “Silver’s dead.”
Caite gasps, her hands falling away. I snag her around the waist and pull her body flush against mine, burying my face in her hair. She pushes against my shoulders.
“Lilly! Does Lilly know?” she sounds wide-awake.
I shake my head, not trusting my stupid mouth.
“Glen, let go! I have to call her!”
My arms fall back to my sides. Caite runs away. I make my way to her bedroom. This isn’t my first time here, but in the dark, it’s not easy to navigate.
Arriving in my fiancée’s bedroom with some brand-new bruises on my shins, I collapse face first onto her bed. Caite’s panicked voice talks around me, but I can’t make out her words.
Sleep doesn’t pull me under. I lie in bed until I feel antsy. For all I know, it’s only been fifteen minutes. I wish I could blame Caite for my inability to fall asleep. I can’t. It’s both cruel and untrue.
Like Silver’s death.
Just as I’m about to give up on lounging in bed, Caite plops down next to me. I roll onto my back and stare up into her brown eyes.
All at once, reality slaps me again. Our engagement is null and void.
The Oddfather arranged this marriage. He strong-armed Howie and me into it. Threatened our Syndicate membership if we didn’t come to an agreement. Lilly or Caite, I had to pick one to trap. I damn well wasn’t picking the woman Silver was crushing on.
I’d planned on overthrowing the Oddfather before our wedding day. Spare Caite from the bullshit of an arranged marriage. But now that it’s reality...
Fuck. My heart is all soft and achy. I’m a sucker for her.
Caite runs her fingers through my damp hair. Memories of the past few weeks rush past my eyes. We were forced together, and we made the best of it. For a second there, I thought what we had might even be real.
I curse under my breath and pull away, forcing myself to my feet. I shouldn’t have come here.
“What’s wrong?” Caite climbs off the bed, but keeps her distance.
“I shouldn’t be here.” My chin dips down.
“The Oddfather’s dead, you’re not going to get in—”
“You’re free, Caite.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “From me.”
“Boohoo. Too bad you’re not free from me, DiLoreto.”
I whip my head up so fast I tumble back onto the bed.
“Go make some coffee and get your shit together, Glen. You’re hours away from being the king of this shit storm. But before that happens, Lilly needs us.”
Who is this minx standing before me with her arms crossed under her tits and her eyes as deadly as cyanide?
If I asked nicely, would she take a seat on my face?
I’ll save that question for a different time. Right now, I wouldn’t take kindly to a refusal.
I hold in a deep breath and nod. “Yes, ma’am.”