KIDNAPPED THE WRONG HEIR

Lanai is black, beautiful, brilliant-and completely sidelined. As the only daughter of Vincenzo Santoro, the iron-fisted Italian capo whose family has ruled their slice of the Gulf Coast underworld for three generations, Lanai has grown up surrounded by power she's never allowed to touch. Her older brothers Luca, Mahlin, and Nico guard her like she's made of spun sugar. Her father kisses her forehead each morning and reminds her the life they lead is too brutal for "his light." The message is crystal clear: stay pretty, stay safe, stay out of the way.But Lanai isn't interested in being a decoration. She's spent years secretly studying the family ledgers, eavesdropping on meetings, memorizing routes, aliases, and weak points. She knows the business better than half the capos who sit at her father's table. She just needs one chance to prove it. The Brits a ruthless London syndicate that's been chipping away at Santoro territory for two years are escalating. Shipments hijacked. Safe houses burned. Men disappearing. The family is bleeding, and the brothers are desperate for a play. Mahlin, ever the twisted genius, tosses out the idea like it's casual: "Why don't we just take their heir? Declan O'Malley the Irish one. Snatch him, hold him, force the Irish to lean on the Brits for us. They owe us that much after the truce we brokered five years ago." Luca scoffs. "Declan O'Malley? The man's a ghost wrapped in bodyguards. We'd need a miracle to get close."
Lanai's pulse roars in her ears. I can do that in my sleep. She doesn't wait for permission. She never has. Declan O'Malley notices her the second her stilettos hit the floorboards.He's everything the rumors promised: six-three, dark-haired, storm-gray eyes, a scar along his jaw that says he's survived worse than most. He leans against the bar in a black shirt rolled to the elbows, sleeves of ink peeking out, laughing low at something his lieutenant said.