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“Ma’am?” The driver met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.”Move, Amara. You came here for a reason. Don’t chicken out now.“I just... need a minute.”
“You know I don’t get paid by the minute, right?”
“Right. Of course. I’m sorry. Here.” Promising herself she’d make sure Martha was paid back in full, she pulled a carefully folded stack of cash from the purse and tossed it at the driver. “Thank you for the ride.”
With one last deep breath, she pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She only made it halfway up the walk before she was stopped by one of Uncle Gio’s men.
“Are you lost, sweetheart?”
Straightening her shoulders, she tilted her head up and met his gaze. Mario, a man she’d known her entire life, paled slightly and took a step backward. “Miss Rinaldi. I apologize. I didn’t recognize you in that...” he gestured vaguely. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“Is my uncle home? I need to speak with him.”
“He’s here. In his office, I think.”
“Thank you. I have important business with him and we are not to be disturbed, no matter what. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Trusting that her directions would be followed, she marched up the front steps and through the door. Tension gripped her shoulders as she made her way to the large, extravagant space where Uncle Gio conducted all of his business.
Luck was on her side—he was alone when she sailed through the door. “Uncle Gio, we need to talk.”
The shock on his face when he looked up and saw her would have been comical under almost any other situation. As it was, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was shock because she’d disappeared for two days, or shock because he hadn’t expected to see her alive again when he’d sent her off on her last mission. It grieved her that she had to even consider the latter.
“Amara?” He stood, but made no move to approach her. “You’re alive?”
Well, at least she had an answer to that question. “Of course I’m alive. You really think Emilio Rinaldi of all people would have me killed?”
“Ah, well. When you didn’t come home, I naturally assumed...”
It was so ridiculous, she couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that escaped. “Emilio is an honorable man, Uncle Gio. He would never hurt me.” Bracing herself for what needed to be done, she took a step closer to the desk. “I don’t have much time, but I have some questions for you.”
“Questions? What kind of questions?”
It didn’t escape her notice that he’d still not moved. Shouldn’t he, seeing his belovedtopolinaalive and well, want to embrace her? Shouldn’t he be dancing on the polished mahogany instead of hiding behind it?
Shaking off the growing dread, she forced herself to speak. “Question one: Why did you have me kill those men?”
“What kind of question is that?” Confusion filled his eyes and he gave her an uncertain smile. “You know why I selected them. They were the lowest form of scum and they needed to be removed from the face of the earth.”
“See, that’s what you always told me.” Emboldened by the white-hot rage currently pumping through her veins, she took a step forward. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Men like you, they don’t do anything without a reason. Certainly not because they think such a risky move will simply benefit society as a whole or some other white knight bullshit.”
“What are you getting at,topolina?”
“Next question,” she snapped, hardening her heart against the use of her childhood nickname. “Why did you order the hit on Emilio? And don’t give me that line about owing someone a favor. Your honor, if you had any, wouldn’t have allowed you to agree to such a despicable marker. So, why? What did you hope to gain from taking him out?”
Something changed in his eyes. The baffled Uncle Gio disappeared, and he was replaced by an ice cold imitation of the man who’d raised her. This man, she realized with growing dread, was absolutely capable of the things Emilio had accused him of.
A flash of light bouncing off of something caught her attention and she froze when she spotted the long, silver barrel of the revolver pointed at her stomach.
“Sweet, stupid Amara. Emilio Rinaldi’s death wasn’t the one I had planned for that night.” The sound of the gun cocking seemed to echo around the room. “It was yours.”
