“I’m only doing my job as your loyal capo,” he mutters as he gets to his feet and stalks out, slamming the door behind him.
“What a slimy bastard.” Romero breaks the silence first.
“I agree with Roberto.” Maximo’s voice vibrates with quiet fury that makes my blood run cold. “I want her tortured before she dies. For what she did to my wife.”
Fuck.
“Is that really what you want?” I ask, watching him closely. Is he about to become a problem? Because Emilia isn’t dying, and she sure as hell isn’t getting tortured. Not by any of us. Not if I have anything to say about it—and I have everything to say about it.
“She didn’t hurt Elira. Even your wife doesn’t want Emily to be hurt by us,” Romero reminds him, his voice uncharacteristically gently.
Maximo’s jaw clenches as he slams his fist on the table. “She came after our businesses too! How about that, huh? It’sonly been a week. Have you all forgotten so suddenly? And she keeps poking and poking.”
“Maximo–” Michael starts, but he gets cut off.
“Don’t tell meyou’reon the traitor’s side as well. What the hell is wrong with you people?” The question targets all of us, but his furious dark gaze is locked on me. Because he knows I’m the only one that matters right now. I’m the only one standing between Emilia and his justified anger.
“She’s oursorellina,” Romero says quietly. “No matter what she did or didn’t do, she’s family, and I believe she can still be brought back to our side.”
“Then you’re a damn fool—all of you are. She doesn’t give a shit about us or our history anymore. Why are you still clinging to it like it still means something?” Maximo stands abruptly, adjusting his jacket. “I think this might be where we call our partnership quits.”
No. Not over this. Not over her.
“Maximo,fratello.” I say, my tone stopping him mid-step. I’m not sure what to say to get through his anger, so I go with the truth. “She thinks I killed her father.”
His lips part, then he slowly sinks back into his seat, the anger momentarily eclipsed by confusion. “What the fuck?”
“That night ten years ago. Tomassi died a second time, and someone in the FBI has been feeding her lies that I did it. That’s her motivation for everything she’s done.Revenge.” I let that sink in before adding, “We would have done worse if we were in her shoes.”
“The feds pulled the rug on Tomassi’s life, and now they’re trying to pin it on us?” Romero grits his teeth and slams his fist on the table. “Bastards.”
“I know that. We all know that. But she doesn’t,” Michael points out. “She’s been with them longer than she was ever with us. Of course she’s going to believe them.”
“Exactly.” I nod grimly. “The burden is on us to find theproof. Find the agent who killed him and bring them to justice.”
“Yeah, well… maybe another time.” Michael makes a show of checking his watch and gets to his feet. “I gotta go.”
The rest of us exchange glances before rising as well. “We’ll conduct our own research and get back to this conversation at a later time,” Romero suggests.
I nod, but my attention is on Maximo. His brows are drawn together in deep thought as he leaves with the others. Will his anger return once the surprise wears off? That remains to be seen. But at least I’ve bought myself some time.
Once I’m alone with Enzo in the room, I wave him over. “I want you to put Stefano on Emilia.”
“What?” He rears back like I just slapped him.
I get to my feet swiftly. “She’s very intuitive, so it has to be Stefano.” The man blends into backgrounds better than anyone I know. Something about his salt-and-pepper hair and the gentle look he’s had in his eyes since becoming a grandfather makes people instinctively trust him. It will make it harder for her to suspect him as one of mine.
“I want her every move tracked—and reported directly to me.”
21
EMILIA
Rafael and the others are the ones supplying the medications to the underground network in the city. I blink up at the ceiling in my room, my mind spinning like a broken record.
Of course it’s them. Of course it is. How did I not see this coming? The pieces were right there. If I’d been thinking with my agent brain instead of my wounded heart, I would have connected the dots myself. It’s a huge ring, so theyhadto be involved somehow.
But I just couldn’t imagine them doing something so… I wouldn’t sayphilanthropic,but something good. And itisan act of good, because they’re taking these ridiculously expensive drugs that the middle and lower class would sell their souls to afford and offering them at prices that actually allow people to survive.
