Page 118 of Blood Vows

Marco stared at the road. “This isn’t the time or place to talk about this.”

“It’s absolutely the time, unless you have something better to do, Marco,” she said.

“Valentina,” he warned.

His gaze flicked to hers, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “If men are shooting at me because of something my father left behind, then you don’t get to decide if I should wait for answers.”

Marco’s jaw tightened. “You want the truth?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Your father’s name appeared in one of our internal financial archives.”

She sucked in her breath. “When?”

“Years ago,” he said.

“For what?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Because if I knew, I’d tell you.”

She laughed without humor. “You’re a mafia consigliere.”

“Yes, I am,” he admitted.

“Lying is practically your job.”

“No.” He turned onto another street. “Making other people believe my version of the truth is my job.”

Valentina stared at him. “That is somehow worse.”

“Probably,” he said with a shrug.

She looked away from him. “Did he work for you?”

“No,” Marco said.

“Did he work for the Camorras?” she asked.

“Not officially,” he said.

“Unofficially then?” she asked.

“I said I don’t know,” he answered.

Her frustration snapped. “Then what do you know?” Marco slammed on the brakes, and Valentina jerked against the seat belt. “What the hell?”

Marco grabbed her arm and pulled her down. “Stay low.”

Her heart jumped. “What’s going on?” He was staring into the rearview mirror. A black sedan had turned the corner behind them with no headlights on, and it was moving fast.

“Oh God,” she breathed. Marco accelerated, and Valentina stayed low. “Are they following us?”

“Yes,” he said.