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“My house wasn’t bombed.” I bang on his desk. “And why would I need Stasia?”
“We can’t give back a personwe don’t have,” Dante snarls.
“Is it possible one of your people fucked up?” Riordan, the negotiator, leans forward. “Hurt her? Heck, killed her by mistake?”
“She is a wild cat,” Lachlan mutters, and I shoot him a look, talking about her in the present tense.
Hmmm.
I also wasn’t aware he’d met her, but I compose myself quickly, never wanting anyone to see anything but 100 percent unity between my brothers and me. When we’re alone, that’s a different story.
Gabe doesn’t answer, but Dante dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “You’re wasting your time here, Kieran. Are you done?”
“I’m just getting started.” I eye the useless bodyguard to get a read on if he has instructions to put a bullet in my head if I lose my shit. “Let’s cut to the chase, Parisi. The Koslovs aren’t fucking around. They know something about you or have very credible suspicions. They bombed your house. You need to respond. Hit back.”
“No!” Dante snaps, and it’s like we’re talking tohimand not the don.
Riordan knows when to speak, so what’s up here?
“I can handle Alexei just fine.” Gabe sits back, all smug.
“They. Killed. Your. Wife.” What the hell happened to his marriage that he’s numb to her death? Sure, he has mistresses—they all do, those Italians.
That’s not just blind pride on my part. I’m nearly positive my father never touched another woman after marrying my mother. And maybe not so much because he was the loyal dog, but my mother used to gut cattle on a farm back in Ireland.
Gabe pushes a pen around on his desk and says with little emotion, “Maria wasn’t supposed to be home.” His stiff voice doesn’t match the sweat beading up on his brow. He might be innocent as far as Stasia, but too much is pointing in the other direction.
“You don’t have any proof the Russians planted those bombs,” Dante says.
“We have their death squad on tape leaving the scene,” Riordan says.
“You look guilty by not retaliating against them.” I stare at Gabe, who has his head in his hands, finally showing some emotion. Maybe it hadn’t hit him yet.
I know what that’s like. Walking around for days in a fog after someone you love dies. Turning every corner, expecting to see her standing there. I push Norah from my mind, considering what I’m about to propose.
“I have a solution for you.” I rub my chest, pretending the heat is getting to me, but that’s just to grab my gun in case Gabe gives his bodyguard the strike signal when I announce what I want from him. “I’m here to make you an offer that gives us both what we need.”
“Us both?” Dante asks.
“Am I fucking talking to you or your don?” I snap, having enough of this guy. I roughly open my suit jacket, the heat really getting to me. There’s no fucking air in here. Either that, or I’m heated, just thinking about what I really want. Who I really want.
“Dante, shut the fuck up,” Gabe finally roars, and Dante’s hands close into white-knuckled fists. “What do you propose, Kieran?”
“Your daughter,” I say, resisting licking my lips at what my request will get me. A wife. A beautiful, fuckable bride. And power, once I give Gabe enough money to fight Koslov, who will just strike back, leaving both houses wrecked, and mine positioned perfectly to take over this entire city.
“For what?” Gabe asks. He can’t be that dumb. Maybe he’s still out of it.
Dante drops the smug grin he’s worn since we walked in. “No.”Hefigured it out.
“Aye,” I answer, gravel in my tone. “I’mtakingyour daughter, Gabe.”
“That’s why you brought that monster of yours?” Gabe lunges across the desk at me while his bodyguard draws a Glock. “To coax Isabella down here?”
Here we go…
I stop Gabe’s fist with my bare hand. “Hear me out, Gabe.”
“You can’t take Isabella,” he mutters hoarsely.
