Page 19 of The Boss

He’s far enough away that I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s getting something from him clearly. I look down at my hands and see the blood on them. I lean my head back, hitting it against the concrete wall behind me.

If Mateo were here, he would be chewing my ass out, telling me how terrible of an idea this is. He would compare me to my father and use examples of when we were kids, and my father and his men would torture men for hours to get the answer they wanted. We agreed we would never be like them, never act like them. But here we are; he’s been kidnapped, and I’m turning into my father.

Then there’s my sister. She would also be chewing me out for this. Mateo doesn’t keep secrets from her; he doesn’t show her his work all the time because he’s a lawyer, and legally, some things he just can’t tell or show anyone. But he tells her everything he can. He’s always putting her first. He pushed back incredibly hard when I made the call to send him to Italy.

He had his reservations, and I realize he was right to do so. My sister made her feelings known, and she was right too. Hell, everyone in this group has given me their opinions, and they were right, and I was wrong. They’ve been telling me for years that I don’t have to do this on my own, and that I can go to them to make decisions. I think it’s time I start listening to them.

When I’m finally done with my internal chastising of myself, I lift my head. Ryan is walking Jamie out of the room. I stay frozen, knowing he thinks this man has nothing. Which, to be honest, he probably doesn’t. The Russos don’t have a large presence in the States. The men they have here are focused on their properties; they probably don’t know much about their criminal activity.

I watch Ryan walk back into the room and look at me. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at me with frustration and understanding.

He starts talking. “I get it, we all want him back. But this is not the way to do it. We know the men they have here are not their enforcers; they’re transactional people. He had no idea about Mateo until we told him. This isn’t the time to get impulsive; we need to have level heads at everything we do.”

I swallow.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and I follow.

We make the quiet drive back to my house, and the entire time, I think about how I’m going to explain this blood to Juliet.

NINE

JULIET

Sitting in the library, looking over some of the staff log evidence Gino requested, I find nothing. Nothing definitive to tell us if Lorenzo’s working with anyone who’s also on his father’s staff. I know how badly Gino wants to give his sister something, but there really is nothing yet.

I don’t hear Gino walk in until he sits on the coffee table in front of me.

My eyes widen looking at his hands; they're red and lightly swollen. And there’s blood on his shirt, and his brown hair is disheveled.

“I should call Vanessa,” I say to him, grabbing my phone from my pocket.

He stops me, taking my phone and placing it down on the table. “No,” he says gruffly.

“No? Gino, you have cuts all over your hands. It could get infected⁠—”

He cuts me off. “I said no. If she sees this, she will ask questions, and right now I can’t see her and tell her I have nothing.”

I swallow. “What happened?” I whisper, looking back down at his hands.

“Ryan tracked down one of Russo’s associates in New York. I didn’t know they had people here, but I guess they do. We questioned him. He didn’t have any details, so we eventually let him go.”

“What did you do to him?”

He looks up and stares at me for a second, and I think he’s about to walk out of the room.

“We questioned him, and it got violent.” His voice is low.

“Got violent? Gino, please tell me he isn’t in the hospital or something.”

“I don’t know where he is right now. But I may have tied him to a chair and punched him a few times,” he mumbles.

“I thought you didn’t want to be as violent as your father.”

“My father would have killed him if he didn’t give him something he wanted. I’m still not as violent as him,” he says with finality in his voice.

“That’s true, but you have to promise me that you won’t turn into your father because of this,” I practically beg.

“I won’t. I’m going upstairs. Vanessa said she wants to come over tonight for dinner,” he says as he gets up. Before he leaves, I can feel his gaze on me. Then, as quickly as he was here, he’s gone.