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“Did I kill him?”I wanted to, little bird. I came so close that I held the gun to his head and only stayed the action when he begged for his life.
I gesture again, and this time, she climbs into the rear compartment of the limousine without protest. When we are both seated, with her facing the front opposite me, I rap my knuckles on the partition behind my head to signal the driver to move. She does what I’ve ordered and removes the wig and contact lenses, then ruffles a hand through her hair, loosening her own slightly sweaty locks. I study her closely, wanting to gauge her reaction to my next words.
“Rossi showed a modicum of sense in coming to me, and after begging for his life, he provided information regarding a rival who may have been involved in action against my family. I have, therefore, spared him. For now. Except for one of his fingers. I did not spare him that.”
She gasps. “His…finger? You cut off…”
She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, as if she plans to add something else and then changes her mind.
My inner monster enjoys her shock.Yes, little bird. This is who you have betrayed.
“But it is not Carlos Rossi to whom you owe my visit today.Yourbetrayer is a little closer to home than that.”
“My betrayer? What do you mean?”
I lean forward, deliberately pushing into her space, noting the flicker of her eyes. She is as aware of me in a physical sense as I am of her.
“I mean, my dear Bianca, thatkarmais a bitch. You betrayed me, and in turn, your friend Nita betrayedyou.”
* * *
Bianca
“I don’t believe you.”That can’t be true. Nita wouldn’t do that.
But even as I fight the urge to lunge at him and slap his face for his evil lie, I know deep down that he’s telling the truth.
He must be. How else could he possibly know about Nita?
Unless, of course, his goons have been stalking me for some time, and listened in on my coffee catch-up with her. But I was watching the door, and there was no one near enough to hear our conversation.
Ice fills my veins as a thought intrudes. “Is Nita okay? Don’t hurt her. Please, she has nothing to do with your world. Your violent, sick world. She has kids.”
One of Rio’s brows rises, and his nose wrinkles slightly as if I’m merely a piece of garbage on the bottom of his shoe.
“My violent, sick world? Yes, it is violent. Yes, it may be sick at times. But it is not simplymyworld, Bianca. It isours. You were born to the Mafia life, and ourworldruns in your very blood. Do not be so quick to judge.”
He lifts his cell phone and taps the screen a few times, then holds it out to me. I don’t want to look. I know that whatever he’s trying to show me will be something bad. Something hurtful. But I can’t stop my gaze from dropping to the screen.
I see a news article about prominent business people in Boston—“movers and shakers,” the article calls them. And right there, decorating the article, is a photograph of Rio with me hanging off his arm. It must have been taken the night of the gala event where I first met the federal agent, Felicity. I recognize my dress and the background at the marina hotel.
“She saw this in her news feed and recognized you,” Rio says smoothly, while a sick feeling rises in my throat. “And then she called my office. Dana passed the message on to Danelli. Still don’t believe me?”
“No,” I whisper, but of course we both know I’m lying. His explanation rings of truth.
Dana is Rio’s assistant, and I can imagine her excitement at receiving such a call and being able to please her boss with the news.
Like everyone who works for Rio, she adores him and fears him in equal measure.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, trying to block him out. How can this be happening? Is there nowhere safe from the reach of Rio Agosti?
“Here.”
I open my eyes to see him holding out his phone again, only this time he has dialed a number, and the phone is actually ringing. When a woman answers, he puts the handset on speaker so we can both hear her more clearly.
“Hello? Who is this? Hello?” Nita’s voice fills the space in the car.
I want to throw up all over Rio’s lap, but instead, I simply say, “Nita. Why?Why?”
