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“You know, I have to give you props. Hiring Albanians when you knew we were already at odds with them was a clever move. You could put a hit out on your daughter without anyone being the wiser. You worried when she started talking that she’d leak your secrets, and you were right to be concerned. If you’d been successful, you would have lost the power the alliance would have brought, but your secrets would have been safe.”
Shock rang in my ears. The men who’d come after us in the car—they’d been sent to killme? I’d assumed they were after Conner, but that had been the whole point. My death was supposed to look like collateral damage in the war between the Irish and Albanians, a convenient way to tie up loose ends.
While I reeled over his unveiling, Conner continued. “The thing is, you didn’t count on me capturing one of the men you hired.” Conner slowly stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. “I found the man who ran from the scene and learned about your involvement.”
Conner’s eyes cut to the side. I followed his stare over to Sante, whose face twisted in disgust.
“It’s time to open your eyes,” Conner urged my brother. “Your father isn’t the man he wants you to believe.”
“Don’t listen to the lying bastard,” Dad spat. “They’ll tell you anything to turn you against me. Look what they already did to your sister.” Fear setting in, my father was trying to rally Sante back to his side.
My brother only looked more pissed with each word our father spoke. “You tried to kill Emy? Mom wasn’t bad enough, you fucking psycho?” His face grew red and blotchy with fury, and I prayed he didn’t do anything brash.
Our father snarled. “You’re barely old enough to get your dick wet. What do you fucking know about anything?”
“Sante,” I hissed, demanding he look at me. “It’s okay. I’m here. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Not yet,” Dad spat. “But I’m the one in control here. You don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’ll put a bullet through it.”
“Now, Fausto,” Conner continued, drawing our attention back to him. “There’s something you need to consider. Mercenaries are a dangerous business. You go outside your loyal organization, and it becomes hard to trust the people you work with. Take these men, for example.” He motioned to the small army around us. “They have no real loyalty to you. Should someone have learned of your arrangement with them and negotiated a better deal, your entire plan could be in jeopardy, not to mention, your life.”
My father stiffened behind me.
One by one, the outer ring of soldiers lowered their weapons.
I was stunned. Conner had known what my father was up to and managed to get one step ahead of him.
“This isbullshit,” Dad hissed, desperation now oozing from his pores. “I paid you! You can’t do this.”
While he spewed his outrage, my eyes stayed locked on my husband. His cobalt stare bore into me, urging me to be ready. Receiving his message, I sucked in a lungful of air and clenched my eyes tightly shut.
In the same instant, a gunshot rang out so loud that I couldn’t hear beyond the ringing in my ears.
I shrieked, returning my hands to my ears and noting warm sticky droplets in my hair.
I knew what had happened. I never heard his body hit the ground or saw the bullet that hit him, but I knew my father was dead.
Slowly, I peered over my shoulder at Fausto Mancini’s motionless body, a crimson-lined hole in his forehead. The sight should have made me nauseous or relieved or something, but an eerie cold settled over me instead. A shiver wracked my body as I turned back around to see where the shot had come from.
Conner stood with his arm outstretched, a black pistol clenched tightly in his fist.
What he’d done had been risky, but every ounce of him radiated undiluted confidence. I’d sensed what he was about to do and was shocked at my complete confidence in him. A few inches off, and it would have been my body limp on the ground.
Another shot pierced the air around us, all eyes turning to my brother. Sante held Umberto’s gun outstretched as the hulk of a man collapsed to the ground. My brother had stripped Umberto of his gun and shot him in cold blood. No tremor to his hand. No remorse in his eyes. His face was so harsh with violence that I almost didn’t recognize him.
Lowering the gun, he aimed it at our father’s body, unloaded one more shot into the dead man’s chest, then spit on him.
Sante was no longer the boy I’d known.
I walked over slowly so as not to startle him and gently wove my arms around his middle. Sante held me close, a hand pressing my head into his chest.
“I’m so sorry, little big,” he said on a ragged breath.
“Me, too.”
When he let me go, he walked directly to Renzo and handed over the gun. “I hope you’ll believe I had no idea about this. If I’d known what he did…” Sante’s jaw clenched against his anger.
Renzo dropped his chin. “Don’t worry about that now. You’re still family in our eyes, and there’s time to work through the rest.”
