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The likely capo shifted into his face this time. “Then you’re not walking out of here without a limp. Vespa deserves better than Antonio fucking Di Salvo anyway.”
A few grunted in agreement.
“And she’s badass,” the young soldier added with a flush. “Vespa doesn’t need protection.”
Antonio wanted to laugh. Vespa didn’t need to worry about her men losing respect. They thought the world of her. He moved even closer to the soldiers. “Someone is intent on killing her. You don’t think they’d attempt the next hit while she’s down?” He raked his gaze over them again. “Because that’s the only way they’ll take her out, and if they’re smart enough to target her, they’re smart enough to realize that.”
The capo blanched and gestured to a few of his men. Antonio was content when they headed to her room, and he resumed his progress for the door.
He’d left his car parked in the front drive, but there was nothing about it that would link it back to the Di Salvos. He’d had one of his contacts purchase it for him recently, and he liked the way the door slid up instead of out in the foreign model.
Antonio had a thing for cars, but he rarely kept any for the long term. There was one exception, and Giovanni had been needling him to buy that old masterpiece lately.
It seemed like Vespa liked cars. Maybe he’d buy her one to replace ‘Carla.’
The thought made him smile as he pulled up Luka’s number. Watching the car’s phone screen dial, he snorted as he remembered Vespa had his number programmed as ‘That Asshole Di Salvo.’ He’d need to sneak her phone away and change it.
The line clicked open, though Giovanni’s pet assassin said nothing.
“You find a way in?” Antonio asked.
An affirmative grunt was the most he got in return.
Antonio didn’t mind. If his plan went off without a hitch, he was likely to feel downright soft toward the little fucker, like Giovanni and Nera did. “I’ll owe you for this one,” he admitted.
The phone remained silent. Then a simple ‘no’ came through.
“No?” Antonio asked, frowning with his finger poised over the end call button.
“Not for you.” Luka hung up.
“Damn assassin,” Antonio muttered as he put the phone away, but his cheeks ached from smiling. Vespa was wrong. Some people really liked her.
Antonio tapped the tip of his knife against Franco Rossi’s cheek as disgust raced through him. There was a cage in the corner of the room with a huddled woman glaring out from it. Since the other side of Rossi’s bed was empty, Antonio assumed the cage was for his newest fiancée.
If he hadn’t already been planning to kill Rossi, the presence of the cage would have convinced him to.
Luka crouched in the corner, his eyes averted from the woman’s nakedness as his gloves closed into fists.
“Wake up, Franco,” Antonio said as he tapped the man’s cheek harder.
“Wha—?” The man moaned before his eyes opened into slits, then blew wide.
Antonio pushed the knife into his spreading mouth, nicking him enough to gather his full attention. “No screaming.”
Rossi gagged on a mixture of his own spit and blood even as he whimpered.
“What were you expecting to happen, targeting the Di Salvos’ allies like that?” Antonio asked, his tone hard.
Another whimper mixed with a groan.
Antonio sighed, withdrawing the knife enough to free the man’s tongue. “Try again.”
“It wasn’t me!” Franco Rossi spat. His eyes narrowed. “Why would I bother with that Coronella bitch? You all made me rich, you and your fucking morals.”
He sliced the knife through one blubbery lip. “Did you just call Vespa Mortali a ‘bitch’? Show some respect.”
Rossi gurgled on the blood running to the back of his throat, swallowing as best he could before he pushed out, “She’s a damn woman.”
