Page 45 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Gian absolutely planned on finding out, though.

God save Edmond’s soul.

“Friendships mean shit in Cosa Nostra,” Stephan muttered. “Not when power is right there in front of you, ready for the taking.”

Gian passed Constantino a look, not ready to agree to that statement. He’d known Constantino since he was ten years old—unless he had to, unless given no other option, Gian couldn’t imagine putting a bullet in his oldest and best friend. They had too much history, too much time watching each other’s backs.

Friendship did mean something.

At least, to Gian.

“You need to, at the very least, make a statement against what Edmond did to put your own image and respect back in place for the younger Capos,” Constantino said. “Don’t bite the fucking hand that feeds you, Gian, not with this. Those men would have wanted you, and every time they see you running for the boss, or standing at his side, is another day that they feel like it was you that betrayed them, not him.”

Gian considered those words carefully. “And then what if I do, what after that? Then I have a pissed off boss to contend with, and an older generation of men who wouldn’t think twice about killing me to get me out of the way. I’m walking a very thin line here.”

Constantino shrugged. “So, do it carefully.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one sticking the target on your own back.”

“You sure about that, man? Because the way I see it, anyone on your side is not on theirs. And that’s a pretty big fucking target, Gian.”

Fair enough.

Gian headed out the back entrance of the restaurant, entering into the alley where he had parked his Lexus. After the meeting he’d had with Constantino and Stephan, Gian needed five minutes to himself. He needed to get his thoughts together and figure out whether or not the Capos’ warnings had any real merit for him to consider.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Gian pulled the device out of his pocket, ignoring the chill in the air. Cara’s name popped up on the screen, but the message surprised him the most. An image file, it seemed. He didn’t even hesitate in opening it, his grin growing the very second it loaded.

Tanned skin.

Black thigh-high stockings with lace trim at the top.

Red curls framing delicate shoulders and naked breasts.

And that fucking choker …

She had taken the image in front of a mirror, from her painted-red smile down, but it was perfect. He was instantly hard and no longer giving any shits about his problems.

Took you long enough, he texted back instantly. Then adding, But so worth the wait.

He got a wink in response, but that wasn’t enough for Gian.

I’m coming over, he messaged, don’t take any of that off.

Gian didn’t even wait for Cara’s response before he grabbed the key fob from his pocket, and pointed it at his car thirty feet away. He hit the unlock button, felt his phone buzz, and then the blast came.

Hot.

Loud.

Dead.

Gian was sure he was dead.

Except, dead people couldn’t feel pain, and he was in a hell of a lot of pain.