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Nuncio brings out his ten-inch hooked blade and twirls the menacing piece as he steps next to Franzese. “I…I don’t….”
“Ah ah. No lies, Franzese. We already have confirmation she was here. What I want from you is the name of the man she was with.” When the slimy bastard doesn’t speak, Nuncio’s hand shoots out, Franzese cries out when what hair he has left is fisted in Nuncio’s hand, and the hooked edge of his blade makes contact with the skin just below Franzese’sleft eye.
“Please, Don Calvano. You know this world. If I speak, I’m as goodas dead.”
I shrug. “True. The question is: do you wish to die now, slowly and painfully, while you piss and shit yourself? Or live a little longer, maybe years longer, before you get what has been coming to you?”
Nuncio presses the blade into the soft flesh beneath Franzese’s eye, and the oily man grunts and clenches his fists as a trickle of blood runs down his cheek. “Vasile!” the man calls out. “Stefan Vasile or Sebastian…Whatever the fuck he calls himself. He… he introduced her ashis wife.”
My blood runs cold in my veins while the beast inside roars for blood. “And what did she say?” Franzese’s brow furrows in confusion, so I clarify. “Did she refute beinghis wife?”
“N… no. She didn’t say much at all.”
I nod. “Did he mention where he wasstaying?”
“No, but I know he has a home here in Bolzano. I was a guest in his home once in Rome, and he mentioned building a house here. Couldn’t stop talking about it.” His words are labored, and his eyes can’t decide where to settle—on me, the knife at his eye, or Rooster, whose short hair stands on end, teeth bared, and paws slowly creeping closer.
Almost disappointed with how easy it was to get information from the pig, I nod to Nuncio, and he immediately releases Franzese, who slumps in his chair with a relieved sigh.
“Rooster, heel,” I command Greta’s beast, and he obeys. Nuncio gathers his bundle, and we leave his office, but not before I turn around and look back at him, still shaking and sweating in his chair. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” I turn to leave, then snap my fingers as though remembering something. “I almost forgot. The warehouse you use to store your product is being burnt to the ground as we speak. Your offshore accounts have been drained, the money distributed evenly among the families of the eleven women we rescued from the warehouse.” Franzese’s face turns a dark crimson, and while I would love to taunt the fucker some more, I have shit to do. I jerk my chin at Alto. “Put the little piggy out of his misery.” I walk out the door, Franzese’s pathetic pleas of mercy a sweet lullaby before the gungoes off.
Onecazzo malatodown, only hundreds more to go.
11
Greta
Timberlines laced up tight, insulated black leggings, long-sleeve thermal Henley, and a puffer jacket ensure I stay nice and toasty during our hike. I slip on my leather gloves as my brain goes over the flashes of images plaguing me all morning when I hear Sebastian yelling at someone in rapid-fire German.
I tip-toe down the stairs and lean over the banister to find Sebastian pacing in his office. He has a murderous scowl on his face, and one hand is fisted at his side while the other white knuckles the phone at his ear.
“Find someone else, and do it fast!” he orders, then slams the phone down on his desk. I turn to go back upstairs when his voice halts my steps. “Come here,Piccolo Uccello.” His clear blue eyes lift to mine, and the command is not to bedisobeyed.
My steps are hesitant as I make my way to Sebastian’s office and ask from the doorway, “Is everything alright?” But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he crooks a finger, gesturing me to come closer.
When I don’t move, he smiles at me like a doting husband, but something in his eyes unsettles me. “Do not be afraid, Bird.”
Straightening my spine, I close the gap between us. As soon as I’m within reach, his hands grasp my hips, and he’s pulling me between his legs, where he leans against his desk. My hands land on his hard chest, and his smile stretches, showing perfect white teeth. “That’s better. To answer your question, no, everything is not alright. One of our partners was killed, and his warehouse burnt down.”
My heart thrills at the news, but I know I have a part to play. So instead of dancing with joy, I furrow my brow and ask, “What about theproduct?”
“Gone,” he answers, hands tightening on my hips.
“All of them? Gone asin dead?”
“Yes, all of them, and no, not dead, taken.”
“But why? Why would someone do––”
“Because they want what’s mine.” He drags me closer, and I gasp when one hand goes around my throat. His Mediterranean eyes lock with mine, and I take a moment to study the deep pools for the first time.
Ringed with the darkest green hue, specks of gray throughout the palest blue … and something that chills me to the bone. Something that penetrates the rainbow of colors, warning of the animal beneath.
Clearing my throat, I take a step back and smile. “Well, from what I’ve learned about you, you won’t let it keep you fromtakingwhatyou want.”
His face is stoic as he studies me, then he bursts into laughter and lands a swift playful slap on my ass. “Very true, Bird. Speaking of wanting.” He turns to the side table displaying the ugliest vase I’ve ever seen and picks up a square velvet box. “Merry Christmas,my love.”
Christmas? Where has thetime gone?
