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“Mutually assured destruction,” Gavino says, following my gaze and squinting at the rocks fifty yards away. Now a very long distance for a good sniper. “That’s what you called it, right?”
“If Cillian’s men start shooting, our men start shooting.”
“You do realize that if they start shooting right now, we’ve got nothing to shoot back at?” Gavino’s eyebrows raise, looking around.
He’s got a point. “Cillian’s not dumb. Casso would burn the city to the ground to get revenge if we both got killed.”
“Wouldn’t do us much good,” Gavino says, grinning.
“I think I see something,” Genaro says, pausing in his impatient wandering. I set aside Gavino’s comments and focus on two men as they clamber down the far slope and begin to pick their way toward us.
The man in the lead is Cillian. I’d recognize him anywhere. But the man behind him is older, slender, walking slower. He looks to be in his sixties, fit for his age, but still moving at a shuffle.
Cillian stops about ten yards away from us. The older man arrives a moment later, sweating. He dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief. Cillian’s in short sleeves, boots, and jeans. The older man’s in a button-down shirt rolled up at the elbows, a pair of suspenders, and slim khakis. His hiking boots look like they’ve never been worn.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” I say, stepping forward. Genaro moves warily, staring at the older man. He rejoins me and Gavino. “My bother here was saying your sniper would kill us any second.”
Cillian laughs and shakes his head. “Killing you two wouldn’t get me what I want, it’d only make my life harder.”
I grin, showing teeth. “That’s what I said.” I nod at the older man. “Who’s your friend?”
“This, gentlemen, is my father, Ronan O’Shea.”
Genaro stiffens and goes very still. He says nothing, but I glance in his direction, and his face is pale white like he’s staring at a ghost. His teeth are clenched and his hands are fists. Meanwhile, Ronan only smiles benignly like he’s watching a play in the park.
I nod to Ronan by way of greeting and decide to forestall any more pleasantries. “We’re here to get Mirella back.”
“I heard. You made quite the mess in my club, you know.”
“Didn’t have to go down like that,” Gavino says with a shrug. “They shot first. Besides, we owed you for Petro.”
His smile is dangerously tight. “And yet you’re the ones that came in waving guns. What did you expect them to do? I’m told you struck one of my men and stole his phone. I think after that, whatever happened was your fault.”
“Blame doesn’t matter,” I say because it’s true. We can stand here and litigate what happened all we want but we won’t ever get to the bottom of it. I feel we were justified in how we acted and Cillian won’t agree. That’s all there is to say.
“That’s true. What matters is the girl. Right, Fynn?” Cillian chuckles softly to himself.
“My daughter better be safe,” Genaro barks, glaring at Ronan the whole time like he’s about to try to kill the poor bastard.
“She’s very safe,” Ronan says. “I fed her stew last night. Fit as a fiddle.”
Genaro steps forward, on the verge of rage, and Gavino has to put a hand on the older man’s chest to stop him from charging. I don’t understand why he’s so pissed off, but if he keeps acting like this, he might ruin the whole damn negotiation, and I can’t have that. I’d sooner knock him out and put a bullet in his head than lose my chance at getting Mirella back in one piece.
I steady myself with a deep breath and face Cillian again. “What do you want for her?”
Cillian strokes his chin as if thinking, but that’s all for show. A man like him knows what he wants already. He’s probably known what he’d ask for in a situation like this for months if not years, that’s the level of devious snake I’m dealing with.
“At first, when I took Mirella into my protection, I thought she was just another employee of the Bruno Famiglia. An interesting one, but still, only a hired hand. I figured I’d ask for some money, hem and haw about the price, but eventually settle on something reasonable. But based on you breaking into a pub and killing some of my men, I have a feeling she’s much more than just a physical therapist. Isn’t that right, Fynn?”
I keep myself from grimacing. I don’t want him to see how deeply he just cut me. I’m a stupid bastard for going so far for Mirella—it tipped my hand and showed all my cards. Now he knows how much she matters to me, and he can demand anything he wants.
“Everyone that works for the Famiglia is important,” Gavino says casually, waving a hand in the air. He’s trying to cover up my mistake but it’s falling flat. Cillian’s lips curl, and even Ronan seems to find Gavino amusing. “Unlike your pathetic excuse for a family, we kill for our own.”
