My gaze drops to my hands, and I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Sometimes worry looks a lot like doubt to me,” I state quietly, letting the words flow without overthinking them. “Danika and DiAngelo helped me see that I’ve been a bit harsh in my judgments lately. I left for Sicily not on the best of terms and never really gave either of us a chance to prove things were different since I got back. I think it was easier to assume the worst than show what I have to offer and find out it’s still not enough.”
“Fuck, Tommy. You’ve always been enough. Though, I agree we haven’t given ourselves much of a chance to get to know one another now that you’re all grown up. It probably helps that I’ve mellowed out, too. I was a little uptight when I first took over. It was a lot of pressure.”
I raise my brows. “A little?” I jab, praying he hears the playfulness in my tone.
He smirks. “Yeah, yeah. I could be a dick, but I felt like I had to prove myself worthy of being the boss. I faced a lot of doubters, you know?”
“Actually, I do know exactly what that feels like.”
His lips thin, and he gives me a single nod of acknowledgment. It’s such a tiny gesture, but it’s filled with so much meaning that my breathing catches. I’m momentarily speechless.
Renzo saves me by steering us back to shallower waters. “When do I get to meet this new bride of yours? I hear you’ve done well for yourself.”
The mention of Danika brings a smile to my lips. “I know she’d love to meet Shae—we should do dinner before the baby arrives, assuming we can get things cleared up with Biba. I know this has put everyone at risk, and I truly am sorry about that.”
“Some things are worth the risk. Sounds like your girl is one of those things. I’m glad you found her.”
“I appreciate that.” Fuck if my voice doesn’t almost break. That’s my cue. I’ve waded through as much touchy-feely crap as I can manage. It’s time to talk business. “So what’s the plan for this call? You get any insight into his frame of mind when you set this up?”
Renzo sighs. “Hell, no. That fucker has no frame of mind except crazy. There’s no predicting crazy.”
We spend the next ten minutes prepping as best we can for the call then get online and enter the virtual meeting room. A few minutes later, Biba joins us as if we are any ordinary businessmen gathering to discuss mergers and acquisitions. Except in our industry, the outcome of our talk will have life-and-death consequences.
“Biba, it’s good of you to join us. We appreciate your generosity.” Renzo shows right away why he was the natural choice in leadership when Dad died. Despite his age, he keeps a cool head and knows how to use the right amount of diplomacy.
The best thing I can do to contribute is keep my damn mouth shut because anything I say will probably end the conversation.
“I am curious to hear how you propose to make right such an unforgivable situation.” Biba sits at a desk with two thugs standing behind him like sentinels. It’s a ridiculous attempt at posturing, considering we’re not actually in a room together.
Renzo and I sit together at a small round table in his office somewhat squeezed together to fit in the camera view of his laptop. “I think we can all agree it’s been a regrettable series of events. I know the families of the innocent men who lost their lives last night wish things were different.” Renzo artfully incorporates a reminder that Biba is not the only one who has suffered.
The Russian frowns with a shrug. “These things happen when you steal a man’s daughter. Now she is tainted and useless to me. What could ever compensate for such a loss?”
“We’ve been considering that—”
“Nyet, not you. I want to hear from him.” He points at me. “You’re the one who’s taken her, no?”
Shit. Don’t fuck this up, Tommy.
“I am.” I’m hoping simple is best. If I don’t say much, I have less of a chance of pissing him off.
“Did your father not teach you it’s impolite to steal a man’s daughter?” Biba’s accented words are clipped and dripping with venom.
“My father died before I started dating, so I suppose he never got the chance,” I say honestly, then continue to try to move this conversation in a better direction. “I understand, however, that I’ve deeply injured you, and I want to make it right.”
Biba snickers. “You? What could you possibly offer me to make this right?”
“I can kill The Reaper for you.”
The old Russian is so still that I start to wonder if the computer signal’s been interrupted.
Renzo leans forward. “The Families haven’t had any issues with Reaper’s crew, but we understand he’s been giving you problems. Normally, we wouldn’t make trouble with someone like him without cause, but in this case, we’re willing to eliminate the threat he poses to you in exchange for a truce.”
“How?” he finally asks, his weathered features drawn in skepticism. “The man is a shadow. A phantom.”
“We would need to work as a team. Tommy here has trained as a sharpshooter. All we’d need is for you lure Reaper out of hiding—maybe under the guise of a truce. Whatever the angle, as long as you can coax him to appear, we can get him.”
Biba stares, his lips pulled into a deep frown as he looks down his nose at us. “And what’s to keep you from shooting me instead?”
