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“Why not?”
“They want you as a bargaining piece.”
“Who are they?”
“Do you know who the Wagner Group is?”
“DUH. I read the news.”
They were the guys who had done most of the Russian fighting in Ukraine – and then nearly taken over Moscow.
“They’re probably Wagner,” he shouted.
“What the fuck do a bunch of Russian mercenaries want with me?”
“The people who ACTUALLY whacked the Agrellas sent them.”
He sounded kind of pissed off as he shouted it.
Probably because I’d yelled the same thing in a hall full of normies.
Fuck him.
He’d spanked me in public.
Asshole.
(Even though a little shiver went through me as I remembered it.)
“So your family DIDN’T whack the Agrellas?” I shouted.
“No.”
“Who did, then?”
“A guy working for my uncle.”
“Uh, HELLO – since when is your uncle not your family?”
“Since he’s trying to whack me and my brothers, too.”
“…oh.”
That must have made for an awkward family get-together.
“How’d those guys in the boat know we were coming?” I shouted.
“Either the shooter at Ca’ Foscari called them, or…” Massimo got a troubled look on his face. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my bag.”
He reached over, rummaged in my Birkin –
“Hey, I didn’t say you could GET IT!” I yelled, but he ignored me.
He pulled out my iPhone –
And then threw it over the side of the boat.
