Page 58 of Sacred Blood

The realization was a punch to the chest.

“That was a Russian accent,” Massimo said quietly.

“Let’s go. Romeo, Gio and Antonio are waiting on us.”

I stood, grabbing my wallet and keys. “Where’s Fausto?”

“Already on it. He received a tip from one of his many informants about activity at a warehouse out on Spring Road. We should go see the footage though and have Simon run the facial recognition first. They didn’t go through all this trouble just to kill her,” he told me when I scowled. “We need to know what we’re walking into.”

I had Rita cancel my remaining surgery and clear my schedule, then followed my hulking brother through the hospital, glad he was at my side for a change instead of Romeo’s. It sounded petulant, but years of playing second fiddle to our adopted brother had left a bit of a scar I’d been pushing down for far too long.

“Thanks for coming for me,” I commented as we took the elevator down to the parking garage.

Simo patted me on the back. “I’m always here for you, brother.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You say that now. Growing up, I was pretty sure Romeo was your favorite.”

Massimo barked out a laugh.

“That’s because Romeo needed me more.”

I shot him a look.

“It’s true. You had your books, your grades, and later, your surgeries. Gio had his schemes. Antonio had his cards and numbers—and the scar over his eye to prove how seriously he took them. Vincenzo had a gift for getting into trouble.” His expression softened. “You never needed anyone to fight your battles for you.”

The elevator doors slid open.

“Besides,” Massimo added as we stepped out, “if I had to choose a favorite brother, it definitely wouldn't be Romeo.”

Despite everything, a smile tugged at my mouth.

“Don't let him hear you say that.”

“Please. I've been telling him for years.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the club first and get the footage?” I queried. A little out of my element, I wasn’t usually involved in the action until afterwards, when I cleaned up the survivors.

Simo had been texting on his phone the entire time since listening to Gaby's recording. Now he said, “No need. Vincent picked it up and is on his way to meet us.”

He’d turned into an efficient bugger since being disciplined by Massimo. I’d give him that. As I continued to observe him in action, it was hard not to acknowledge where I’d been blind and missed out on the natural gifts of enforcer my brother exhibited.

I had always felt he was designed to be at Romeo’s side, that papa had put Massimo in the position to be Romeo’s future consigliere not just because he was the second eldest, but for all those traits that made him a natural leader and an obedient soldier to the boss.

The two had always been inseparable, but maybe it wasn’t so much by my father’s design as it was putting two pieces of a whole together. Romeo was the toughest man I knew, period, and ran our family with an iron fist and a silk tongue. But would he have been as effective a leader without Simo? I’d always thought so until now.

With two more cars following behind us, I impatiently waited out the ride while Massimo drove, taking multiple calls through his earpiece as he maneuvered through traffic like a NASCAR driver. As we got closer to the family compound, I chided myself on not putting everything on hold until Gaby was safely my wife.

“Stop it. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”

I stared at him, unsettled. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

Massimo laughed. “Are you kidding? You have a tell.”

“Bullshit, I don’t have a tell.”

“Sure, brother, you keep telling yourself that,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’m a blank slate,” I insisted.