Dead of Wynter: A Dark Mafia Romance (Frost Industries Book 2)

Every night since my parents died has been longer than the last. Some nights I lay awake, staring at the ceiling as I think about all the things that need to be done or all the ways we could take down Russo for what he’s done to our family. Other nights I can’t stop thinking about their last moments on earth and how scared they must have been as their car careened down a cliff. And then there are the nights I think about the years I still have to live without them. My wedding without my father to give me away, my children without their grandparents. Those are the nights I break and no matter how hard I try, the tears won’t stop.

But not last night. Last night I slept soundly for ten straight hours. I didn’t wake up with nightmares of Angelo Russo hurting my family, I didn’t dream of my parents being torn from my life. Instead, I had a dreamless sleep thanks to the earth-shattering orgasm Everett gave me without ever touching me.

Even as I woke, his scent still lingered within the room, on the sheets, and even on my skin despite us never coming into contact with one another.

By the time I get through my morning routine and trudge down the stairs, the sun has been up for hours and voices carry from the kitchen. I’m usually the first out of bed in the morning, my dreams plaguing me until I can’t stand it anymore, but it’s nice to be the last one up for once.

“Good morning,” I chime.

Snow looks up from where she’s sitting at the table, a spoonful of cereal pausing at her lips. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Rayne scoffs. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Snow?”

“I just mean she’s usually grumpy in the morning. It was weird enough that we didn’t find her half a coffee pot deep when the rest of us got up, but this is just plain wrong.”

Emerson shakes her head from where she stands at the stove, frying what smells like bacon. “Don’t listen to them, Wynter. I’m glad you slept in. You needed it after how emotional yesterday was.”

“This is why she’s my favorite sister.” I wink at Snow before crossing to the coffee pot. I may have slept through the night, but I still need coffee to function, I’m not an animal.

Storm and Everett are missing, probably in the office strategizing. That’s where they spend most of their time. Everett on his laptop tracking every Russo movement, and Storm on the phone trying to get a lead. It’s not ideal, but it’s working. The sooner we get a lead, the sooner we can get the fuck out of this house before one of us kills someone.

A knock at the door startles me even though realistically it shouldn’t. No one gets past security without express permission, so I carefully place my coffee on the counter and head to the door, only barely sparing a thought for the sweatpants and sweater I threw on before coming downstairs. Security around here has seen all of us in worse, it’s too late to start being modest now.

I swing the door open and find one of the front gate security guards on the doorstep holding a box. “Miss Saint James, this was just delivered for you.” Carl extends his arms, the small, unmarked package crossing the threshold of the door.

“Oh, thank you for bringing it up. I could have come down to grab it during my run though.” I smile and take the box from him.

Carl has worked for my family for as long as I can remember and is one of the nicest men I’ve ever known. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say he’s in his late sixties, married with a bunch of grandbabies he dotes on. When I’m here, I often stop by the security booth just to catch up on all the family gossip.

“Mr. Saint James said he didn’t want any of you ladies that close to the gate.”

I sigh. “Of course he did. Well, thank you again. And please call me Wynter.”

He cracks a smile. “Of course, Wynter.” By the next time we speak, he will be calling me Miss Saint James again. It doesn’t matter how many times I ask, he always reverts back to the formality that has always made me uncomfortable.

I close the door and lean against it for a moment, staring at the box in my arms. The fact it’s unmarked apart from my name scrawled across the top is a little disconcerting.

“Who was at the door?” Everett’s voice startles me.

I can’t for the life of me work out why I’m so jumpy today, perhaps sleep is so foreign to my body that it’s had the opposite effect on me to everyone else.

“Carl. Something was delivered for me,” I tell him, unable to meet his eyes after what we shared last night.

Everett takes long strides until he’s just a few feet away, but it’s the box that he’s focused on with his brow furrowed. “Give me the box,” he says in a low voice.

“What? Why?”

“Just do as you’re told for once, Wynter,” he snaps.

I look down and understanding dawns on me. There could be anything in this thing. Literally anything. A bomb. A body part. Anthrax. I hold the box out to him carefully, my hands suddenly shaking with fear. We’ve always lived our lives with a certain level of danger, but I forget that it’s amplified now we’re at war.

Everett takes the box from me and takes off down the hallway toward the office Storm is using, and I can’t help but trail after him. If someone has threatened me, I want to know about it. He places it down on the old mahogany desk in front of Storm.

“Why the fuck would your security bring an unmarked package to the front door while we’re at war?” he roars. “It could be a fucking bomb and it could have blown up the second Wynter got her hands on it.”

I flinch at the anger in his voice more so than his words. I’ve never seen him with such barely controlled rage.

Storm stares at the box for a few moments, as if deciding what may be in it. The likelihood of it being a bomb is very low. The war we’re in with the Russos will be slow like a chess game and bombing your enemy in their home is the opposite of controlled.

“Wynter, get out,” Everett growls, not even bothering to look up at where I’m standing in the doorway.

“Excuse me?”

“I said get out.” The softness he showed last night is all but gone now, leaving behind the cold, hard man I’ve only ever heard about. He’s never spoken to me like this, never been so abrupt with me, and I can’t help but think maybe he’s changed his mind, maybe last night was a mistake to him.

“No.”

His deep blue eyes shoot up to meet mine, fire brewing in the pools. “Come again?”

“I said no. That box is addressed to me. I want to know what’s in it.”

Everett stalks across the room before placing both hands on my hips, pushing me until I’m backed against the wall in the hallway, his body pressing into me roughly. “I swear to God, Wynter, if you don’t stay out of this room while we make sure this isn’t going to kill you, I’m going to tie you to your fucking bed where nothing and no one can hurt you.”

“Everett,” I whisper, my voice wavering with a mixture of fear and arousal building deep within me.

“Don’t argue with me about this. If there is one thing that I will not bend on, it’s your safety. Now go anywhere in this house except for this room or I swear to God you won’t like the consequences.”

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as I consider my options. Rationally I know I should just leave the room, but I’m just as involved as they are. I should at least know what’s in the box. But he has a point. Whatever is in the box could be designed to hurt me, and if that were the case, shouldn’t I run in the opposite direction?

“I want to know what’s in the box.”

The sound Everett makes can’t even be described as human. It’s deep and loud and rough, and it kind of terrifies the hell out of me. “Do. As. You’re. Told.”

I stare into his eyes for long moments, considering my options. “Fuck you.”

I shove his hands away from my body and start down the hallway. As much as I want to know what’s in the box, it’s probably nothing I need to see after burying my parents yesterday.

Plus, I need to get the fuck out of this house before I go insane.