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It is only then that I realize who, exactly, we are dealing with.
Kieran MacAntyre.
The Irish boss who I sold guns to. Who has caused me so much trouble. Who I just signed a deal with not three months ago.
At the time, I had used a proxy, as had he. The transaction was conducted remotely, so we hadn’t spent any time together.
However, I know precisely what he looks like regardless of any time we have spent together.
I would be a fool not to.
“I did not think you had much business on this side of the Atlantic any longer,” I say coolly.
His smile is that of a wolf baring his teeth. “I see you’ve heard of me, then,” he says in that strange accent.
“I would be remiss not to,” I respond.
“Ah, well. I’ve heard of you as well then. With you, Elio Rossi, I’ve got a fucking bone to pick.”
“And what’s that?”
The smile disappears. “Ye stole my woman.”
I settle back on my heels. There’s a gun tucked in my waistband, and I know that Sal and Gia also have weapons. Nico probably has so many weapons on him, he’d sink if we tossed him into the pool.
God bless America, or at least the lack of suspicion around weapons.
“I am married, Mr. MacAntyre,” I say evenly. “If I have done something in the past, I assure you, it’s been nearly seven years, and I apologize for my behaviors.”
He laughs. There is no humor in it, like a hyena’s bark. “Oh no. I think you misunderstand. You stole. My. Woman,” he says, punctuating each move forward with a step.
Sal sucks in a breath next to me, but I don’t know why. I frown. “I’m afraid I still don’t follow.”
“Perhaps this will jog your memory,” MacAntyre reaches into his pants. Next to me, Nico and Sal have pistols in their hands, as if by magic.
The Irishman barely blinks at them. He grabs his phone and pulls up a picture. “This woman,” he says loudly.
My heart stops.
Rage descends over me.
There’s a picture of Caterina on the phone.
She’s wearing a nightgown that’s so translucent, I’m certain that if I look hard enough, I’ll see the outline of her nipples. Her eyes are shut and she’s lying as if asleep.
“What the fuck are you getting at?” I growl at him.
My hands itch to rip the phone from his hands. To wrap around his neck. To pull him to pieces.
He has done something to Caterina.
Something bad.
I have to find her.
“Caterina is my wife,” I growl. “She is the mother of my child. You and your fucking delusions mean nothing to me. None of that will change because of what you believe to be true, you fucking bastard.”
He shrugs. “You can keep the babe. That one’s yours. This woman is mine. I was promised. And as you can tell with my guns, ye fuckin’ dirty Italian, I don’t like when others take what’s mine.”
