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“Because I’m concerned about your brother?” she scoffs.
“No. Because you’re concerning yourself with matters that don’t concern you. You knew Carlo and I were having a private conversation and you came in here regardless.”
She smirks. “If you don’t want me poking into your private conversations, find something to keep me occupied.”
“Gladly,” I tell her, reaching into my jacket pocket.
I drop my card onto the table in front of her. She sighs.
“Again?”
“You have a party to plan, remember? Spare no expense.”
“I’m actually going to take you up on that offer.”
The gleam in her blue eyes has me worried about my bank account for a second, but I don’t say a word about it. I take a step back and another, tamping down the feeling in my gut that there’s a conversation due between us and if we continue to ignore it, there’ll be irrevocable damage. Still, I walk away, and judging by the hurt that flashes across Daniella’s eyes as I leave, I know she’s feeling every single thing I am.
* * *
“Officer Powers,”I say, rounding the table to stand in front of the middle-aged man with a penchant for collecting bribes from the D’Angelos. He usually offers us information in return, but today he’s proving difficult.
The man turns up his nose, crossing his arms and looking away. “I told you, Don. There’s nothing I can tell you. The detective on your case is pretty high up. Must have some powerful backing, too. I don’t know who he is or which station he works for.”
Subtly, I throw Carlo a frustrated glance. He takes the cue from me, moving toward the officer and placing a hand on his shoulder. The man’s brown eyes widen as he takes in Carlo’s presence behind him. My brother never gets involved unless torture or any other unseemly means are involved.
“Don’t worry. He won’t hurt you,” I say to calm the man. “He just wants to take you somewhere.”
Carlo leads the officer out to the place housing the four men that were shot last night. Maybe if he takes in the damage on his own, he’ll be more inclined to find out the source. After they’re gone, I get to work on taking some very important, overdue phone calls. One of which involves deciding the fate of my brother.
The boss of Desantos has a crisp, clear voice when he answers the phone. He’s a made man, just like me. But he’s much older, has held his position for longer.
“There’s no need to waste either of our time on small talk,Christian.”
He says my name with scorn, derision. Like I’m below him and not worthy of any respect. It’s because I’m younger, I’m new and I haven’t done anything to deserve his respect. Yet.
“My thoughts exactly, Romano.”
“Turn in your brother. I promise he won’t be killed,” he states.
I let out a low laugh. “If you think I’m just going to throw my brother to the wolves, then you really don’t know me. And you don’t know my family.”
“Your brother defiled the wife of a capo. He’s going to get what’s coming to him. It’s up to you if it’s a bullet in the head or a bullet in the arm.”
My jaw clenches. Both those suggestions sound completely out of the realm of possibility. Topher fucked up. He’s not getting a bullet wound because of it.
“I’m open to negotiations,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “But you’re not going anywhere near Topher. I’m sure you can find something else to soothe your capo’s bruised ego.”
Romano goes quiet for several seconds. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and calculating.
“I hear the D’Angelos are getting a delivery in a month. Some firearms, gold bars—seems like a sweet deal.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “What do you want?”
“Twenty percent of whatever’s on that ship.”
“Five,” I call out roughly.
“You know how to haggle, Little D’Angelo. That’s good. Your father taught you well. But I want fifteen percent.”
