“Vincenzo…” he says, his voice breaking. “How could he…?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I still can’t wrap my head around all of it,” I say. “He was lying to us all for years. Smiling to our faces while he drove knives through our backs with that Eamon arrangement.” I press my lips together. “I’m glad he’s dead. I only wish I’d have been the one to pull the trigger.”
Taking a deep breath, I say, “There’s more. Lochlan… he knew about the gala attack. Knew something was coming. But he didn’t say a word to me afterward, not in the whole time we were together. He carried that secret. And I overheard Eamon threatening to tell me if Lochlan didn’t agree to take control of our family.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I told him it was over. That we were finished.” My nose tingles. I blink fast to keep the tears from spilling. “I thought… I really thought he might be one of the good ones. But it turns out he’s just like his snake of a father, who happened to disappear from the warehouse without a trace. But like any cockroach, he’ll surface at some point.”
“But Luna said…” he rasps. “Lochlan... saved you?”
“Yes.” I can’t deny that. “He came for me. He and his brothers. They got me out before more of Kozlov’s men showed up.”
“But you... don’t trust him.”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I mean, how could I? He knew something was going to happen at the gala. Eamontold him at the hospital on that first night that you were the intended target. He never said a word about it, knowing we might all still be at risk since the Russians didn’t finish the job. And now we know Eamon was in on the whole thing. You almost died, Dad. You spent weeks in a coma while Lochlan promised me everything would be okay. He’s a liar, just like his father.”
My father lies there quietly for a beat. His eyes drift up toward the window, to the blue sky outside.
“Vincenzo,” he finally says. “I should have... listened. He did try to warn me. About Riccardo. About all of it. I didn’t take it seriously.”
“You couldn’t have known how things would turn out.”
“No.” His gaze shifts back to me. “But I should have... paid closer attention to my organization, to the people who were supposed to be closest to me.” A weak cough. “I trusted the wrong people. For too long.”
I just nod. “I guess we both fell into the trap of getting comfortable.”
“The Kozlovs,” he says a few minutes later. “What will you do?”
“I’m meeting with them tomorrow. I have a plan, a way for us to work together. One that will keep us from getting into a turf war.”
Dad’s lips curl upward. “My daughter. The diplomat.”
“Someone has to clean up the mess Vincenzo left behind.” I shrug and grin at him. “It’s part of the job.”
He squeezes my hand. “Be careful, Adriana. Viktor Kozlov... he’s smart. Ruthless.”
“Don’t worry.” I lean in close to kiss his cheek. “So am I.”
I walk into City Grill on the North End for my meeting with Kozlov. It’s a neutral spot, a quiet restaurant that doesn’t getmuch foot traffic in the early afternoon, so I figured it would be a good place to talk without raising any eyebrows.
I get to the restaurant early. I have security close by, just in case. One of my men walks in before me, doing a sweep of the place before taking a corner table by himself.
The hostess is friendly and offers me whatever table I want since it’s pretty desolate. I thank her and choose a table in the back so I can see everyone coming and going.
Alexei Kozlov arrives at exactly noon. I immediately stiffen when he walks inside, keeping my narrowed eyes on him the entire way to the table.
What the fuck is Viktor’s play here?
But knowing how these guys work, it makes sense that he’d send someone in his place. The old man is too smart to show his face after everything went down. And it’s not like he sent in some scrub. Alexei is his nephew, his right hand. He’s tall and blond with eyes so clear, they look soulless
Pretty appropriate considering the fact that he’s the kind of man who’s probably maimed plenty of people with his bare hands and didn’t lose a wink of sleep afterward.
He slides into the seat across from me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch two men drop into a booth opposite my security.
Guess nobody is taking any chances today.
“Mrs. Molloy,” he says, a trace of an accent lacing his words. “Or do you prefer DiMicheli now?”
“Colonna, actually. But Adriana will do.”
