“I lost a family member because of you two fucking up, and you want to just go back to business as usual? It doesn’t work that way. Nero has to pay.” He lifts his gun and points it at my head.
“This is a waste. If he’s here, I might as well put him to work. That will help both of us.”
“We’ve managed the past six months without him.” The cold barrel presses against my forehead.
I close my eyes and conjure up Blake in my imagination. My death will ensure Blake will be safe from the Iron Raptors and safe from Gino, even if he finds out about her. Rafe will protect her. He’ll make sure she’s all right.
She’s strong, and she’ll build a new life here in New York. She can start that bookshop she’s always dreamt about right here. But none of these reassuring thoughts manage to expel the regret that I feel.
I failed her.
I was selfish and arrogant. If I’d been more careful like Sandro warned me I needed to be, he’d still be alive, and Blake wouldn’t have a target on her back.
“Gino,” Rafe says in a low voice, but it holds an undercurrent of desperation. “Can you just put the gun down for a fucking minute? We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
Gino clicks the safety off. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”
The chair behind me skids against the floor. “You’re acting rashly. This isn’t like you.”
“That’s enough, Rafaele.”
“We can use him! He’s got the know-how, the network, the credibility. He’s a fucking asset.”
A ball appears inside my throat. Rafe told me he couldn’t save me, but he’s trying harder than I thought he would. Even now, he’s got my back, the way my own father never did.
I let out a shaky breath and curl my hands into fists at my sides. I don’t want to think of that man during my last moments. I only want to think of Blake. Of the way she used to look at me before I broke her heart—like I was someone she could love.
“An asset,” Gino mutters, but I barely hear him over the loud drumming inside my ears.Boom. Boom. Boom.
A few tense seconds tick by.
What is he waiting for?
I open my eyes. Gino’s staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“You’re right,” he says, his voice low. “We can use him.”
What?
The cold pressure against my forehead eases. Slowly, deliberately, he lowers the gun.
I sag back on my heels. My heart’s racing a mile a minute, my dress shirt is sticking to my back, and the room is spinning like a merry-go-round.
Rafe’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. “C’mon, Nero.”
Gino shakes his head. “He’s not going anywhere with you. From now on, I don’t want you two to have any contact unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Rafe’s grip tightens. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” Gino tucks the gun back into his belt. “Wecan use him. We will put him to work. He won’t be working for you.” His gray eyes move back to my kneeling form. “He’ll work for me and my sons.”
I exhale a harsh breath, my mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened.
He’s not going to kill me? Why? I always know when someone’s ready to pull the trigger, and Gino was ready.
So what changed?
But the puzzle of Ferraro’s motivations fades from my mind, overtaken by something more urgent, more vital.
