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8
MADDIE
“Fuck.”
“Goddamnit, Dante.”
Matteo and Aries swear at the same time, but my eyes never stray from Dante. He’s calm and unfazed by their outbursts.
“You know it’s the right play. Pinkerton’s uncle—”
“Mario Amaro,” Aries interjects.
Dante tips his head in Aries’s direction. “Amaro will take Leo to Carnival. It’s just a matter of who will be there: the Vulture or his sons.”
My lips twist into a frown. “I don’t understand. Why would he take Leo to Carnival and not somewhere more . . . I don’t know, private?” Why would they show Leo off to a bunch of people, knowing that he’s the son of their enemy, unless—I stop that thought in its tracks as realization hits me in the gut like a brick. “He wants your dad to know.”
“Motherfucker,” Matteo bites out between clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he throws Leo in the ring and video calls Angelo himself to gloat.”
My brows furrow as my gaze ping-pongs between them, waiting for someone to drop an explanation. “The ring?”
“Carnival got its name because of its likeness to a classic carnival. Instead of a Ferris Wheel and a dunk tank, it's an amateur fighting ring, a dance floor, a bar, and the Diamond Room—a strip club. There are poker tables and places to sit and eat the catered food and drinks. He even started construction on a fucking roller derby rink. It has anything that his guys—and their guests—can do to blow off some steam,” Dante says.
“The only rule is that there aren’t any rules, which is cliché as fuck, if you ask me. Oh, and that if you kill someone, it’s on your dime to clean it up.” The way Aries says it like he’s reciting the weather forecast does nothing to calm my racing heart.
I feel the blood drain from my face as I stare at him, letting their words sink in. Terror seizes my muscles, clenching them tight between taloned fingers as the idea of Leo being subjected to this takes root in my mind. My gaze drifts to the right, the outline of the couch behind Aries’s chair goes blurry as my eyes unfocus. It takes me a few times to swallow over the boulder of fear lodged in my throat enough to speak.
“We have to get him.” My voice comes out small, lost in their murmured conversation. I lick my lips and raise my voice. “We have to get him before that happens.”
“We will, Cherry.”
My eyes feel glossy as I look at Matteo. “How?”
“Carnival.” Dante folds his arms across his broad chest, his muscles popping underneath the fabric of his shirt. “And before anyone objects, need I remind you that we’re under a time restraint. We don’t have the time we’d need to find another way. Santorini holds Carnival once a month—it’s the best opportunity.”
Matteo and Aries wear twin expressions of frustration. Brows low over their eyes, lips flat, tension pulling their muscles taut. I get momentarily distracted by the idea of them matching in other ways, moving in sync and—
Aries taps a rhythm on his pant leg, the pattern distracting me. The stark white of his suit stands out against the beige leather. “We can work with that. Where is it?”
“The basement and backend of Revelry. Santorini runs a lot of Las Vegas—hotels, nightclubs, restaurants. The perfect cover to run just about anything. Guns, drugs, women, money—you name it, he does it. It’s a tourist trap out there, and he’s the king of it all.”
“So we just walk into Carnival, and then what? I doubt Leo’s just going to be there hanging out before they shove him in the ring.” I choke out the last couple words, and glance toward each of them. “I mean, we don’t even know that’s what they’ll do, right?”
Dante nods, his face eerily blank. “We don’t know for sure, no, but the octagon is my best guess. It’s one of Carnival’s biggest attractions. Its primary use is for his guys to settle petty disputes in the ring. But it’s not unheard of for unaffiliated men to fight. Anyone can come to Carnival so long as you have an in.”
I fiddle with the cap to my empty iced tea bottle, the strings of a plan starting to twist and form in my mind. “And we have an in?”
Dante nods. “My cousin.”
I choke a little and cut Dante a look. “Your cousin is a Santorini? Why don’t you just call them and ask where Leo is?” Just as quickly as that thought hits, another rams into my consciousness. “And I thought Aries said Santorini hates the Rossis, how does that work for you?”
No one else seems to share my panic at Dante’s connection, so either that’s not news to them or there’s yet something else I don’t know.
“Nah, he’s not really a Santorini, but he does live in Las Vegas, and he’s . . . friendly . . . with the Santorini boys,” Dante says as he runs his hand through his hair, the move more rough than soothing. “And cousin is the easiest way to describe our relationship to one another. Nate’s really my mom’s brother-in-law’s nephew, which is a mouthful. So we’re not technically related.”
Aries leans forward in his seat, pinning Dante with a glare. “Can we trust him?”
Dante’s jaw flexes as he holds Aries’s gaze without flinching. If anything, his muscles swell and power leaks into the stale air around us. “I wouldn’t put Maddie’s safety in jeopardy, not for anyone.”
