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She rolled her shoulders, relieved that the healing one didn’t hurt any worse than it had when she’d made the same motion earlier in the day. “Do you Di Salvos mind if I bum a ride?”
Antonio grinned. “Consider us your chauffeurs. There’re a few alive, like you asked. I assume we’re taking them to the Coronella estate?”
“Can we pass by the warehouse on the way? I want to check on my boys there in case this was a joint effort.”
Antonio nodded, following Enzo as they picked their way around the bottlenecked crash that Carla had become. Vespa felt a twinge. Not just from the car. Antonio didn’t touch her or help her, but left her to her own devices. Like she didn’t need to be pampered. She liked that and hated it at the same time.
“Shouldn’t you call Montrell?” Antonio asked as she settled into the back seat behind him. Enzo oversaw their cargo getting packed away in the trunk, at least half of the cargo. She’d have four men to torture answers out of.
“After,” she replied, letting her eyes close as her body relaxed into the seat.
“Won’t he worry?” Antonio asked.
She huffed out a breath. “He’ll know from the boys. I want to delay the ‘I told you so’ that’s coming my way.”
Antonio laughed as Enzo climbed inside and drove.
Chapter 24
Antonio pulled more grape flavor into his lungs as he listened to the third man inside the room gurgle. Unlike the basement under the Di Salvos’ house, the Coronellas used a whole separate building for their interrogations. He’d been disappointed when Vespa had waved him off before getting started, but he wasn’t surprised. He leaned against the outside wall of the room she was using, wondering if she was even aware he’d stayed.
That her awareness mattered to him was troubling.
He blew the sweet-smelling smoke out, letting his concentration center on the way his lungs contracted. He tucked the vape pen into his jacket after.
Vespa moved on to the fourth man. The first three had been a waste of time, hired with no knowledge beyond the exchange of cash. Her interrogation style was sharp and brutal. Her intensity had proven effective.
It was yet another thing Antonio admired about her; one of so many now.
He’d wanted to hold her after the car crash, but she’d seemed like she didn’t need that. Normally he did whatever he wanted, but he found himself overthinking with Vespa. He’d never second-guessed with a partner before, even the first time he’d chosen a male lover.
Her smile at the scene of the crash had been filled with nerves and energy all at once, and she’d acted as if nothing had happened in front of the soldiers. Vespa didn’t need anyone to shore her up. She still hadn’t called Montrell.
Holding her would have been more for him than for her. Antonio remembered the way his breath had left him when her car rolled, ending up upside down. The Mercedes had been an impressive tank, but even it had been crushed in the aftermath.
Vespa had crawled out by herself with only a single scratch across her face. He wondered if the wound on her forehead would scar like the line down her eyebrow to her cheek. It would make her face that much more compelling. Vespa didn’t need flawless skin. Her scars caused his hands to itch to touch her.
The man being tortured inside bellowed and cursed and let his control slip.
“You’ll pay for Cesare!”
Antonio turned for the door before he forced his body to freeze. He remembered the name, even though Vespa had said it only once, sitting on a grimy bathroom floor.
She had paused, and he shifted toward the doorway, needing to see her face. It was usually an open book, telling him of her humor or annoyance or worry. In this instance, it was blank, and it remained blank as she continued to work over the man in front of her, asking the questions that Antonio would have asked.
She wasn’t the slow and calculating type, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was doing. Every plunge of the knife or pull with the pliers or deep, blooming bruise she gave the man was exactly right. And still, he said nothing besides the one time he’d said the name that had to be eating at her.
The fourth man had already been close to death. She delayed it as long as she could. It wasn’t until his chest stopped moving that she let out the fury inside, her adrenaline letting loose as she carved him into something unrecognizable.
The sharp blade she’d used fell from her hand with a slick plop before she leaned against the metal cabinets behind her and closed her eyes, her chest heaving.
She still had that cut along her forehead. The slow drip of her own blood mixed with all the rest that spattered her body and clothes.
Antonio crossed to the metal sink, dampening a cloth before moving in front of her. Vespa’s eyes didn’t open as he folded the cloth and pressed it over her cut.
“Fuck.” The curse was soft and tired as it fell from her lips. Her eyes opened, the dark brown almost vulnerable as she stared at him. Her gaze shifted to the last body. “It’s not enough. I should have gotten more information.”
“He said all he was going to say,” Antonio disagreed. He removed the cloth from her forehead and placed it on the counter behind her.
