AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She had her own thoughts. Barone had made a veiled threat at the meeting, and Antonio had been sure that the threat was toward her. She couldn’t seem to escape Antonio’s voice in her head. She regretted not asking him for any information he’d already gathered about the hit or, hell, about Barone, since she didn’t doubt he had some.
Opinions began to wind down. She cleared her throat. “I’m thinking—”
“I recognize a couple of them,” a voice said from the back. The man it belonged to had been around since they were kids as well. He had been close to Giorgio.
Vespa fiddled with her sling, wondering if the outcome the night before had disappointed him.
Montrell leaned forward, his chair creaking.
“The one guy’s face is unrecognizable, so I can’t be sure, but this last one’s clear enough. He’s part of Rossi’s crew. Showed up at the Albanian docks to take that shipment we weren’t interested in.” He nodded toward Vespa. “The one I asked you about.”
Vespa frowned. “I remember. We don’t deal with flesh, and said as much at that meeting with the families, so we let Rossi have the shipment.” She snorted. “You mean they’re rewarding our generosity with this shit?”
The capo’s eyes glittered as he passed up the phone. “Assholes. He’s definitely a Rossi soldier, though.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Montrell. “I have a meeting scheduled with him tomorrow.”
“Cancel it,” Montrell said.
Vespa recognized his tone. Montrell was worrying.
“Now, Montrell, we can use this,” Beatrice was arguing. Her mind was set for business and manipulation, just like another person Vespa knew.
“We walked into an ambush once already. Never again, Bea,” Montrell said.
Vespa finally had her phone back in her hand. She studied the picture of the dead man. She still didn’t recognize him, but she hadn’t interacted much with the Rossi family. It wasn’t the picture of the one who’d shot Giorgio, the one who had seemed like the leader. She frowned at the photo.
Beatrice moved to Montrell’s side, and Vespa missed some of their exchange. “But if we invite him here or to the restaurant instead, we’ll have the advantage.”
“Here will be least risky,” Vespa said.
“True,” Beatrice agreed, “but Rossi might not accept. He’d be stupid to after we took out his men.”
“If they’re all his men,” Vespa murmured.
Beatrice paused, looking back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Not really.” Vespa let her phone dim and shoved it in her jacket pocket. She nodded toward the capo who’d spoken up. “You said you recognized only a couple of them, not all of them?” He nodded, and the ants were skittering along her arms again. “Crews work together pretty consistently, so it should be more than a couple.”
Beatrice frowned at her words.
“What about Barone?” Vespa asked. “He pushing for a meeting too?”
“He’s not as insistent.” Beatrice’s hand perched on her hip. Her opposite side had a cast similar to Antonio’s, white against the dark blue dress she wore. “We haven’t settled on a date and time yet. I asked for an extension with everything that’s happened.”
“Why Barone?” Montrell asked, his eyes on Vespa.
“Something Ant—” She swallowed his name, feeling stupid. “Di Salvo mentioned that Barone looked annoyed with me at the meeting. I chalked it up to me being, well, me.” She flashed a grin around the table. “Everyone here knows what a fucking delight I am, but he’s old school and probably doesn’t appreciate me being part of the business. Besides, he’s never been a big fan of the Coronellas.” She tilted her head. “But I don’t remember doing anything specific that would piss off either the Barones or the Rossis. Do you?”
Montrell shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind.” His beard twitched as he grinned. “His dislike was always because I’ve never been classy enough for him.”
Vespa snorted. “Ain’t that the truth?” She fiddled with her fingers. “I could still be wrong about being targeted.”
Montrell stared back at her.
“The only thing certain is that a Rossi soldier has been recognized,” Beatrice said. “That deserves follow-up. Let’s start there.” When Montrell began to protest, she reached down, cupping his cheek. “Whatever I want, remember?” she murmured to him. “Trust me.”
“I do.” Montrell’s voice was still loud enough to fill the room, even if it had softened.
