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“I did.” Approval gleamed in Gio’s eyes as he took in Bastian’s face. “Nick says he won’t miss the wedding. Be sure to increase the security. Vince says the bounty on his head raised to five million dollars.”
And suddenly, everything made sense.
The bureau had always wanted to take down the mafia.
Of course.
But they’d sent me now, of all moments, in response to bodies dropping in the city and whispers from their informant of something going on in the Romano territory.
If Niccolaio Andretti, the missing Andretti heir, was hidden in the city with a five-million-dollar bounty on his head, the logical conclusion would be the Romano family had given him safe haven.
I didn’t know or understand why, but judging by the way Gio and Bastian talked about Niccolaio, the Romano family cared about him.
The road before me forked, and I stood, splintered in two impossible directions.
It should have been a no brainer.
I’d tell Jenn the intel during our next session, she’d pass it up the food chain, and someone with more power than both of us would make a decision.
Except my heart demanded I rethink this. It remembered the way Jenn had treated me.
What was it Bastian had said?
Family. Duty. Honor. Above all else. Protected at all costs, no matter how large.
In theory, the bureau had that.
We’d all taken the same oath, swore the same promises, and followed the same rules. But at the end of the day, being an agent didn’t entail loyalty to one another or even the country.
It entailed loyalty to a chain of command—whoever played the game of politics best and had the power to pull my strings.
If I were being honest, the mafia had more integrity, and it blew me away.
Mom had run away from Angelo De Luca, the former head of the De Luca syndicate, because he’d been dangerous. A beater. An asshole. The type of man who killed without remorse.
After she’d died giving birth to me, my aunt raised me to hate anything and everything mafia-related.
The hatred she’d taught me led me to joining the bureau, and here I was, holding a kernel of information that could hurt the Romano syndicate but hesitating to use it.
Everything I’d ever been taught demanded I give it to the FBI to take down the syndicate, but my heart refused, begging me to consider the alternative—I had a choice whether or not to say something.
And it might not have seemed like a viable choice to an outsider, but now that I’d seen the syndicate in action, I knew they weren’t as bad as they’d been made out to be.
They had a code of honor and a way of protecting the ones they loved at all costs. More than I could say about me.
And somewhere between the beloved and the outsiders stood people like me. People who had wormed their way into the syndicate and managed to form a connection.
I hadn’t had the opportunity to thank Bastian for the other night, and it was probably for the best.
Otherwise, I’d have to confront the idea that a second side of Bastian existed. One who took me home and acted like a gentleman—albeit his filthy version of a gentleman.
But you trust him, I couldn’t help but admit.
I trusted the man who’d ended a contract for me. Who’d later protected me against one of his own.
Who’d made me promise to stay safe.
Who brought me home, tucked me into bed, and fed me Ben & Jerry’s when I drank too much.
