Page 51 of The Don’s Omega

Valentina Lucchese put a hit out on Elio? I’m stunned at what he’s saying, but I believe him. I’m pretty sure he’s not lying, although it’s pretty hard to accept that Sandro’s mother put a hit out on Elio. “Did she give you a reason?” I croak.

He grimaces. “She said you disrespected her son. Her family. She wanted your omega dead before he could give you an heir. She said her son should have been the one. She said you owed her family.”

“That bitch,” Carlo snarls. “Marcello Foschini doesn’t owe anyone anything.”

That’s probably not entirely true, but I don’t disagree with his description of Valentina. That bitch sat at my wedding and congratulated me on my marriage. Rage spikes in me when I remember how she hugged Elio. She wished us well and the whole time that bitch was planning Elio’s murder. “Was it just her or were there other Luccheses involved?” I ask, careful not to show how rattled I feel.

Renzo’s face is gray and he seems weaker now, maybe from loss of blood. “I got the impression it was just her, but I don’t know for sure.”

“And you swear on your daughter’s life that you’re telling the truth?” I ask coldly.

“Yes, I swear.”

I stand and set the bloody knife on the table, glancing at Carlo. “Take Gino upstairs. Clean him up. Have someone drive him home.”

Carlo nods. He moves to Gino’s chair and cuts the zip ties and lifts the shaking man to his feet. Gino can barely stand. Carlo half-carries, half-drags Gino up the stairs, and the door at the top closes behind them.

Renzo and I are alone.

He knows what’s coming. I can see it on his face. The resignation that he’s not going to leave this room. His breathing has gone shallow and fast and he’s gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles are white.

“You promise you won’t hurt my family?” he asks.

“Yes, if what you told me checks out,” I rumble. “I’m not just taking your word for it.”

He winces. “Fair enough, but it’s the truth.”

I study him, anger burning inside of me. “How much did she pay you to come after my omega?”

There’s no fight left in him as he mutters, “Forty thousand. Half up front, half when the job was done.”

I give a harsh laugh. “So you’re dying for twenty grand. Pathetic.”

He drops his head. “I thought I’d succeed.”

I curl my lip. “You think I’d let just anyone drive my omega? You don’t think I’d have one of my best men protecting him? Fucking idiot. No wonder you’re dying today. Some people are too stupid to live.”

He swallows hard. “I needed the money, okay?”

“Yeah?” I snarl. “You came after my omega for a lousy forty grand. That’s not enough payment for a hit that puts the entire Foschini syndicate on your back. That’s not even enough gas money for the rest of your miserable life on the run.” I look at him with disgust. “You insulted me twice. First by thinking you could touch what’s mine. Then by accepting pocket change to do it.”

“Is that right?” he growls, the veins in his neck bulging. “Then I guess it’s lucky for you Valentina is cheap. If she’d paid for someone better, your omega might not be breathing right now.”

I have to restrain myself from punching him. Not because he’s wrong. Because he isn’t. If Valentina had hired a real professional, Elio might be in the morgue. Dante is a great bodyguard, but sometimes the odds are too great. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard you fight or how fast you react. You still lose.

I pull off my gloves, struggling to control my temper. I decide to switch gears. Instead of arguing with Renzo, I should be trying to get as much information out of him as possible. It’s not enough to know Valentina ordered the hit. I have to prove it. Only when I’m sure can I have my revenge.

“How was the money delivered to you?” I ask.

He blows out a harsh breath. “Wire transfer. Through some business. A dry cleaning place, I think.”

“When did the first twenty come through?”

“Four days ago.”

I nod. That’s what I need. A date. I take the stairs up.

Carlo is in the alley, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Gino is already gone, no doubt loaded into a car with one of my men, heading home to his wife and daughters.