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Marco crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe in dragging things along unnecessarily.”
I shrug my shoulders. “And what if I do have her?”
“I need to know because that will determine my next question.”
I quirk my brow. “Which is?”
“Who is the rat in our midst?”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
Marco’s scowl deepens. “This isn’t funny, O’Sullivan.”
“I just can’t believe you think I’d be stupid enough to share that kind of info with you—even if there was one.Ihave the upper hand here.”
Behind him, the two cousins shift uncomfortably. Their eyes dart back and forth between me and Marco with the kind of nervousness that makes me want to laugh again.
I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the Ambrosino family while living in Chicago. I‘ve bumped into the cousins more than once while roaming the streets. They were both known for pulling their guns first and asking questions later.
A little trigger-happy, but they have the right spirit.
On the other hand, Marco has always been one to value rules and business above all else. So, if he suspects that I have some kind of informant on the inside selling me his secrets, I’m sure it has been driving him crazy.
Especially if he thinks his daughter had a helping hand in the betrayal, too. “I have multiple snipers pointed at you, O’Sullivan,” Marco spits out between gritted teeth. “Don’t think I came here just to have a little chat with you for fun.”
I scoff. “You think I haven’t already done a sweep of the building myself? Come now, I arrived first. I’ve taken every measure to ensure my safety. I don’t go into these sorts of things blind, old man.”
He shakes his head, clearly annoyed that his attempt to scare me hasn’t worked. They’re all bark and no bite, especially with a rival mobster such as myself.
The problem is that Don Ambrosino relies on his reputation to silence people, but his reign hasn’t been challenged in well over a decade. He’s too comfortable. He can’t handle the heat. And I’m more than happy to stoke the fire.
Marco turned and held out a hand to his son, his underboss, gesturing for the folder under his arm and then thrusts it in my direction.
It makes me raise my brow again. “What’s this?”
“Take it.”
Both of the cousins stiffen when I step forward. Their hands twitching around the holsters that have been tucked under their long jackets. I take the folder from Marco’s hand and leaf it open, unsurprised by the contents inside.
Pictures, grainy and dark, from the night I followed Nella out into the alleyway behind the bar and almost had my way with her. I flip them over coolly, not letting my expression betray anything.
God. She looks incredible bent against the wall like that, with my hands around her waist and our hips pressed together. Like we were already fucking.
“How long has this been going on? How long have you two been working together?”
I flip over to another photo, taking in her expression of ecstasy. I can’t help it. I smirk.
Marco seems to take this as an admission of guilt. He scoffs. “Treacherous little whore.”
I glance away from the photos to look at him. His scowl is intense, with lines across his face where his lips pinch together. He's enraged. Normally, the sight of it would have made me laugh. The man despises the fact that he can't play me. But I don’t like the way he's talking about Nella.
“Is that so?” is all I manage to say, even as my hands grip the folder tightly in my hands.
“I always knew she was worthless.” He nods to the photos. “I just never thought she’d sink so low to get back at me. Didn’t know she had the brains for it, either.”
I roll my shoulders back. As interesting as his theory is, it makes no sense. Antonella was always so wrapped up in her own family’s drama that even watching her from a distance had been difficult. Someone was almost always with her.
So, where would she have found the time to meet with me in secret?
