He snorted. “She’s not going anywhere. Look at her.”
Mia caught the glint of a knife as Shane took it from his belt, but she didn’t have any fear. Seconds later, the plastic binding her wrists broke with a small tug, and her arms flopped at her sides. She wanted to lift them to hug him, but she couldn’t manage that feat yet.
“I’m taking her home.”
“Not so fast,” Sal Peretti said. “You’ve insulted Aldo’s honor, and he won’t like you taking his woman. You have no standing compared to him.”
“Shane has a great deal of standing with me, Sal,” Patrick said in a smooth voice, but with a hint of warning underneath. “It’s obvious the girl wants to be with him, so why are we interfering in romantic matters?”
“It isn’t obvious to me,” Aldo said as the door slammed open again, the reverberation echoing around the cavernous room. “He’s taken her and brainwashed her. I’m trying to save her.”
Mia started to laugh, but her ribs hurt too much, and she winced instead. “Who’ll save me from you?”
“See?” He walked over to stand on her other side, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Vadim just gave her to this fucking mick as payment for a debt. Who knows what he’s done to her?” Aldo cupped her chin, forcing her head his way. “Has he been giving you drugs, honey?”
She jerked her head, not succeeding in freeing herself until Shane pried his hand off her. “Don’t touch me.”
“She doesn’t want him to touch her,” Aldo crowed with triumph.
“Not him, you.” Her throat was so raw it hurt to push out the words. “He’s not the one who hurts me. I want nothing to do with you.”
Sal leaned forward to reach for a white demitasse cup on the coffee table strategically positioned near the sofa. The whole area looked like it had been thrown together to offer a semblance of hospitality, complete with an expensive Aubusson rug underneath the sofa and table. The civil pretense was a stark contrast to the blood stains on the cement floor visible at the edges where the rug didn’t cover.
Mia blinked, torn from her surreal appraisal of the décor by Sal’s words after he took a sip of espresso. “To be blunt, gentlemen, I care not what the girl wants. Aldo is my priority and one of my successors, along with Gio. He will lead the Peretti family one day, and all this friction will not be good for cooperation. Give him the girl and avoid the risk of an insult he won’t forgive or forget.”
“I think that would be a mistake,” Patrick said in a mild voice. “It’s clear she doesn’t want to be with him. If you try to force her to go where she doesn’t want, she’ll be escaping and running back to Shane. It will simply prolong the friction,” he put a mocking inflection on the word, “to allow this conflict to continue. Your grandson will follow your decision, so if you tell him to end this, he will.”
“I assume your man will do the same?” Sal could have been asking about the weather for all the interest he seemed to hold in the answer, but there was a note of challenge in his eyes visible even to Mia’s blurred vision.
Patrick inclined his head. “Of course. Vadim, what do you say? You speak for Mr. Varnakov as his representative here, and she’s your daughter.”
Mia stared impassively at her father.
“Let them fight for her. Whoever lives keeps her.” He reached for his cup and sipped as though the matter up for discussion wasn’t anything to him either way. It clearly wasn’t.
Sal’s civilized veneer started to crumble. “I will not risk losing my cherished grandson to a pussy fight. Gio can’t lead alone. The girl must be Aldo’s or our truce is over.”
Mia jumped at his words, her heart racing with fear. The name teased her brain, and desperation spurred her to make connections her addled mind might not have otherwise. “Gio and Aldo are planning to oust you, Sal.”
The old man scowled. “What nonsense is this?”
“Aldo told me earlier that he was going to get rid of you. He wanted to get rid of Stefania too and regretted not having a chance to kill her.” Struggling to hide her fear and the weakness crashing over her, she made herself maintain eye contact. “She helped me escape him, so he wanted her dead for that. Surely you loved Stefania, and that upsets you?”
“I did love my darling daughter.” Sal frowned before shrugging. “You have no proof of your claims.”
Mia wrinkled her brow, straining mentally as her thoughts threatened to splinter and disintegrate. “He said…” What was it Aldo had said? She’d been too busy hurting to pay much attention then, but there had to be something… “A cartel. He said Gio would do his part with the cartel.”
Sal froze in the process of lifting his cup, and his dark gaze switched to Aldo, drilling into him as though he had x-ray vision. “What else did he say?”
Helplessly, she shook her head and wished she hadn’t when stars exploded behind her eyes and her brain felt like it sloshed around in her skull. “I think that was it.”
“It’s all lies, Nonno.” Aldo sounded confident, but Mia thought his voice shook a bit.
Sal’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, but how does she know anything about our business with the cartel?”
On the edge of her vision, she saw him shrug. “I don’t know. Perhaps she eavesdropped or maybe O’Mara said something.”
“O’Mara would have no information about our very discreet negotiations with Alcartes breaking off due to lack of agreement, Aldo.” Sal went quiet, as though analyzing something the way a computer would. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. “A fight to the death.”
