Page 132 of Sixth Sin


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His pale eyes flicker. “Is that right?”

I need to maintain the upper hand, so I push off his desk and continue my slow pace in front of him. “See, I kept trying to figure out how this Salvatore guy had no record or recollection of Angel going into Silverline or leaving. She’s positive she did. Someone bruised her neck.” Pausing again, I glance over my shoulder. “So how is it that there isn’t any record of her being there, Luciano?”

He studies me with that glare of superiority that used to force my eyes to the ground. When I don’t relent, he smirks. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“How about you tell me something for once? Is Salvatore Guiliani on your payroll? A nice Italian family man looking to put his kids through college?”

That smirk fades into a scowl. He didn’t expect that, which is what I banked on. “If you got something to say, boy, say it. Otherwise, you’re about to cross a line you don’t want to cross.”

Wrong. I don’t care if either of us walks out of this room. I’m not backing down.

“Did you kill Greg Rosten?”

Luciano’s eyes darken as he slams his cigar into the ashtray. “No, but I wish to hell I had. That sack of shit deserved a lot more than he got.”

I want to leap across the desk and press my gun right between his eyes, but unfortunately for him, he taught me too well. “You said you didn’t kill him,” I say, forcing a neutral expression.

“Is my word not good enough for you now?”

I don’t answer, which I know pisses him off even more. When the underboss asks a question, he expects to be answered. But Luciano is nothing if not unpredictable, and instead of pulling out his own gun and making this a fair fight, he nods his head.

“I think I remember this Salvatore person. Decent guy. Would give you the shirt right off his back if you asked for it.” Giving me a pointed look, he places a flash drive on the edge of his desk. “As for Rosten, well, who knows where he is. Wherever it is, he should stay there. You know what they say happens when you fuck with wolves.”

I’ve known Luciano Ricci for seventeen years. The man doesn’t speak in metaphors. That’s why, after I pocket the flash drive, he has my full attention. “They bite?”

“They protect their own.” We say nothing as the clock in my head ticks away, then he glances away, reaching for a new cigar. “So, I’ll ask again, what took you so long? Every time you walked through that door, I waited. But you never asked,” he says, pointing the unlit Cuban at me. “All these years, and you kept your mouth shut. So, ask me, Dominic.”

“Who ordered the hit on the Romanovs?” The words squeeze my chest as fifteen years of silence finally breaks free.

He leans forward. “Who do you think?”

“No.” It can’t be true. But I see it. It’s there in his hardened stare.

“Who have I been busting my balls trying to protect you from, huh? Who have I told you time and time again not to fuck with? But you’re so goddamn stubborn, Dominic.” Growling, he throws the cigar across the office. “Jesus, you’d think you were a Ricci with all that vengeance.”

“Why would he do that?”

“It’s not my job to ask questions. That was Marco’s deal. It was passed down to me, and I passed it down to you and Joey.”

Something isn’t right. If the deal didn’t go straight to Luciano, then there’s no way he’d risk his balls by handing such a high profile hit to a seventeen-year-old kid. Joey was experienced—a proven soldier, respected by Marco and his men. Luciano took a major risk in trusting I’d be able to kill…

Oh fuck.

A jagged knife tears through my gut as the blind trust of a seventeen-year-old boy collides with the harsh truth of a thirty-two-year-old man. “I didn’t earn that trust,” I say, my hand clenching into a fist. “You sent me because you knew I’d turn on Joey. Because you knew I’d protect the kids.”

“Marco sanctioned that shit. Not me. You want to talk about trust, boy? I didn’t give a flying fuck about Romanov and his wife. But those kids...” For the first time, I see regret in his eyes. “I don’t fuck with kids. There’s only one soldier I trusted to take on Joey and save them.”

“But I didn’t save them.”

“You saved one.”

The hits keep coming, and the strong resolve I walked in here with starts to fade. I back up, brushing the back of my hand across my forehead. “You knew then? You knew I took Alexandra out of that house?”

“My ass was on the line, too, boy. Even if you only got a few of those kids out, I knew you’d need help.”

“Help?” I roar, throwing my arms out wide. “You let me run with that girl and didn’t say a damn word! I drove her across state lines and left her with my crazy aunt.”

“I know.”

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