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“A name,” I snarl. “I want to know who hired him. Even though I know who did.”
“Who?”
Her innocence, not knowing that she married into a family of monsters. Only, the monster I am wasn’t by my own design.
The phone rings. The bastard’s phone is ringing.
Evelyn’s voice is soft. “Should we answer it?”
Fuck it, why not?
I hold the guy’s thumb print on the screen to answer the call and set the phone on the table so they don’t see anyone’s face.
“Ay! Is it done? After you plug the wife, get my nephew and his father. I paid good money for this shit, and it should have been done by now. Twenty-five fucking years of this shit. He left with the money over an hour ago.”
I pick up the phone to look Oz—no, to look Oscar Baldoni in his eyes.
“Shit, fuck, um, Alessandro, listen, fuck.” He ends the call without an explanation, and I get a text to my phone a few moments later.
Hanging by a thread. Let’s go for a swim.
Inside the car, Jenkins drives us back home where Evelyn’s ready to go inside, but I stop her before she gets out of the car. Lorenzo and Jenkins leave us alone for a minute.
“I need to go finish this,” I tell her. “When I come back, we can talk. About everything.”
“You’re going to tell me all of your secrets?” she quips with a wicked grin.
“I don’t think I have many, but they belong to you since I carry them with me. I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone, but I should be home by sunrise. I love you, Evelyn De Luca.”
“I love you too, Alessandro.” She leans over, kissing me passionately with her tongue slipping inside my mouth, but I have to stop her.
“Mio dolce,” I growl. “I can’t think about fucking you in the back seat of this car right before I go bleed a motherfucker like a pig.”
She giggles, touching the side of my face and running her thumb gently down my scar. “Make him squeal, baby. I’ll be cooking.”
Just like that, she gets out of the car to head inside, and Lorenzo hops into the driver’s seat.
“Jenkins is going to hang out with her until you get back,” he says. “Staten Island?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
By the time we get to Oscar’s house, night’s fallen and so have a lot of his security team. I can see the bloody drag marks across the light-colored driveway. My father’s car is parked on the side of the garage, out of sight as Lorenzo and I walk around the side of the house.
There’s a large tent covering the pool house that mimics a fumigation tent, and the best thing about it is that it’s soundproof. The closer we get, the faster my heart pounds. I shoot a text back to the number from earlier. A bloody hand lifts open a flap a few minutes later.
We’re shown to the empty pool where there is a pile of bodies in one corner. Don Matteo Rossi worked a chainsaw on the soldiers who lost their lives pledging loyalty to Oscar. My mother’s brother is strung up by his wrists, dangling a few inches above the pool’s deep end as my father works him like a punching bag.
Oscar has blood streaming down his chin, and it looks like my father’s removed a few of his teeth and toenails.
“Jesus Christ, Pop.”
“Don’t give me shit, I’m out of practice. And not for nothing, this is not the person I thought would pull me back into the seat at the head of our family table. Anything to say, you fucking traitor?” Pop asks Oscar.
I stand there, smug, arms folded across my chest. “If you tell me why, I’ll make my time with you quick.”
Pulling out my blade, I flip it out of its sheath and back in so he can see which knife I plan to use.
“You,” Oscar breathes heavily with each word. “You killed my sister.”
