Page 17 of From Rome, With Hate

“O’Connell.” I flash a look at Marcus. He takes the hint, turns around, and limps his way over to my office door, closing it behind him.

“I trust my team has cleaned up your VIP lounge well enough for you to operate business as usual.”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat and sit forward in my seat, resting my head in my hand, massaging my forehead. “I appreciate you taking care of it for me. Our business was supposed to be complete with that deal, so I know it meant a lot for you to do that for me.”

“You know I only make deals and arrangements that benefit me, Mr. Montgomery.”

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I clear my throat again. “Are you needing to use my club again?”

“Oh, no,” Rhys answers swiftly. “No, no, Montgomery. While I would love to continue to use your space, I have more important matters to take care of at the moment. You held your end of the bargain. I offered you protection for years and, in turn, you gave me places to run my operation. With Tobias’smurder, I’ve been forced to shift my focus. I won’t give you details because, let’s face it, you don’t deserve to know them. No matter what you’ve done to prove your allegiance to your own family is fragile, it doesn’t erase the undeniable fact that you’re Italian. A Montgomery at that.”

“It’s been nearly ten years since I’ve had anything to do with the Montgomerys.” I sigh. “Still, can’t change my DNA.”

“Right,” Rhys agrees. “Back to what I was saying. I’ll no longer be operating in New York. I’m calling to fill you in on what I’ve found out so far about the man who killed Tobias before leaving.”

I grind my teeth. The man was sent because of me, but Rhys doesn’t seem to hold that against me. I guess he truly does trust that I had nothing to do with the man who killed his second in command.

“Did you find out who did this?”

“Not exactly.” Rhys pauses. “I’m still working on figuring out the details.”

“But…” I tremble, deflation replacing the sickness I’m constantly feeling these days. Maybe I need to get the fuck out of New York for a while, reestablish my life goals. “I was thinking maybe the Capuletis could be behind this. The snake tattoo is an Italian mafia symbol. The Capuletis are Italian with historical ties to the mafia. My father used to tell me about how Kingsten used to associate with them long before he ran for mayor. Political corruption at its finest. Kingsten has wanted nothing more than to see the last of the Montgomery family either put in prison or, better still, dead.”

“I don’t give a shit about your family rivalry, Montgomery. All I care about is figuring out who murdered Tobias.” His scold is followed by bone chilling silence. “Understood?” Rhys warns in a menacing tone.

“Understood.”

“Great.” He inhales a deep, resolving breath. “There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?” I ask, my blood rushing from my head down to my toes. I fall back against my seat and rake a nervous hand through my hair.

“While I’ve been doing some digging into who it was specifically that murdered Tobias, I’ve reached out to a few of my contacts in the meantime,” Rhys starts, his Irish accent growing thicker with every word. “They informed me of something I think you may find interesting.”

I don’t reply, allowing Rhys to continue.

“Dominico Montgomery died last night in prison.”

“What did you just say?” The words rush past my lips, and I pop up from my seat, massaging my forehead with my fingertips, wondering if I just heard Rhys correctly.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I did not.”

After Dominico Montgomery—my fatherand head of the Italian mafia here in New York City—was sent to prison for the rest of his life, I cut all ties from my family. In the years after, Rhys O’Connell reached out to me, offering specialized protection law enforcement couldn’t provide in exchange for offering up my places of business to conducthisbusiness. That was until two weeks ago when our agreement ended.

My head is spinning. “How? How did he die?”

“Suicide. At least that’s what my informants are saying they’ve been told.”

I jerk back in shock, knowing my father would never have committed suicide. He was too arrogant and selfish.

“Also,” Rhys continues, “while there’s no confirmation yet, I have reason to believe your father was the one who sent those men. He must have found out you were working with me and used one of his own to disguise themselves as a fellow Irishbuyer. Trust me, I plan on getting my revenge for Tobias’s death, but Tobias is solely to blame for believing that man was legit. Feckin’ eegit.”

“I don’t understand why you’re the one telling me about my father’s death and not the courts.”

“Beats the fuck out of me.” Rhys scoffs. “We’re talking about the feds here. We both know they’re at the top of my shit list. Incompetent fucks.”

I’m speechless. Panic settles in, and I start rifling through my desk for the business card I’ve kept the past ten years. The business card for the prosecutor who handled my father’s case. I need confirmation for what Rhys is telling me. Not that I don’t believe him—Rhys has eyes and ears everywhere.