A hint of a smile curves Ricci’s mouth. He’s the one Reyna said Enzo referred to as the General. The oldest of the group, he’s got gunmetal-gray hair, a slight paunch, and eyes like a hawk’s.
Right now, those sharp eyes are looking at Reyna with the same admiration I’m feeling.
I decide I like him.
Massimo takes a different approach to see if he can rattle her. “When you killed your husband, the families looked the other way.”
Without missing a beat, she replies, “My husband is alive and well, Massimo. Perhaps you missed the ceremony yesterday? I thought I saw you in the church, but weddings are always such a whirlwind.”
She turns and smiles at me. “Anyway, here he is. I’m sorry for neglecting to introduce you, honey. Everyone, this is my husband, Mr. Quinn.”
Massimo looks like he’s trying not to swallow his tongue. Ricci looks like he’s trying not to start laughing. The other two Italians look like they’d rather be at home in bed than standing in this dusty, echoing warehouse, watching a woman effortlessly run circles around them.
As for me, I’m simply dazzled.
Looking at her, I say in a husky voice, “Pleased to meet you, gents.”
Her smile could light up an ocean of darkness.
Through clenched teeth, Massimo hisses, “My point is that you were granted a pass for murdering one of our own in cold blood. The least you can do in repayment is be honest with us.”
Reyna’s brilliant smile dies a quick death.
In its place blooms a look of such hot, incoherent rage, I almost drop her hand and start running.
She turns to Massimo and burns him to the ground with her eyes.
“I owe you nothing,” she says in an icy, even voice. “Especially considering you knew exactly what Enzo put me through, and you always looked the other way. If anything, Massimo, you should count your blessings that you’re still here to insult me. Because we both know I could send you to burn in hell with your dead friend without even chipping my nail polish.”
Ricci passes a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
Grinning, Declan tilts back his head and blows a series of perfect smoke rings into the air.
Everybody else just stands there, stunned.
Until one of the Italian soldiers says under his breath, “That bitch needs to be put in her place.”
Scalding heat rushes up my neck and burns my ears. Every hair on my body bristles. I say loudly, “Did you just disrespect my wife?”
When he smirks at me, I pull out my gun and put a bullet in his head.
30
Rey
The gunshot is painfully loud. The soldier’s head jerks back. A perfect hole appears in the center of his forehead at the same time a mess of bloody chunks fly out from the back of his skull.
He drops to his knees and topples over sideways, dead.
Looking at the body, Declan sighs.
Chaos erupts. Soldiers from both sides surge forward, shouting and waving guns. An infuriated Massimo hollers at Quinn. Tomasi and Aldo are frozen in shock, gaping.
Ricci holds up his arms, turns to the Italian soldiers, and thunders over the fray, “Shut the fuck up and put down your weapons!”
There’s a pause in the noise, into which he says in Italian, “Anybody who fires a shot won’t walk out of here alive.”
Throwing hard glances left and right, the muttering soldiers lower their guns.
Declan makes an aggravated motion with his hand to indicate his own soldiers should do the same. They comply instantly, stepping back.
It’s quiet for a moment, except for the sound of Massimo’s heavy breathing.
I turn to look at Quinn standing beside me. His eyes are wild. His face is red. A vein throbs erratically in the side of his neck.
“And you have the nerve to call me a land mine. You explode at the drop of a hat.”
He shoves his gun back into his waistband and pulls me against his side with one arm. Glaring at Massimo, he growls, “Nobody disrespects my girl.”
I am a sick and twisted individual, because this violent display of protectiveness has got me so hot, I want to push him down to the bare concrete and tear off his pants with my teeth.
Instead, I turn back to Massimo and smile. “You were saying?”
He moistens his lips and straightens his tie. He runs a shaky hand over his hair. He glances at Quinn, exhales a hard breath, and pulls himself together.
“There’s a vote for the next capo tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“We want to know if your brother is worthy of the position.”
Sensing there’s a lot more to it than that, I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?”
“I just did.”
I say softly, “You have ten seconds until we leave. I’ve got shopping to do.”
Massimo opens his mouth, but Alessandro cuts him off. “We understand that you killed some of the intruders?”
I don’t know where they’re getting their information, but I’m not about to stand here and justify protecting my own home. So I say flatly, “Anyone who comes into my house uninvited leaves in a body bag.”
He nods, considering me. “Does that protectiveness extend to the rest of your family?” He makes a slight sweeping motion of his hand, indicating all the other Italians present.
I notice Declan watching me intently, but can’t concentrate on that. Holding Alessandro’s piercing gaze, I say, “Is my loyalty to the family under question?”
He pauses to carefully choose his words. “Forgive the presumption, but your loyalty could now be said to be…” He glances at Quinn. “Divided.”
“My loyalty extends to those who prove themselves worthy of it.”
“Regardless of blood?”
“For fuck’s sake, Alessandro. You’re smarter than that. Let me put it bluntly: family comes first. Unless they prove themselves untrustworthy, then they’re dead to me.” I smile. “Or by me. And before you get too excited, I consider the Irish family now, too. They’ve proven themselves much better friends than I expected.”
I pause to glance up at Quinn. “And for that, I’m grateful.”
The look in his eyes is all the reward I need.
Looking back at Alessandro, I say, “The bottom line is that I don’t consider my loyalty divided. I consider it extended. I’m Italian by birth, and now Irish by marriage. Do with that what you will, but I won’t stand here any longer and be forced to explain myself. I’ve given you enough of my time.”
I wrap an arm around Quinn’s waist. “You’re interrupting my honeymoon.”
Alessandro looks at Massimo. After a pause, he gives a curt nod. Then Alessandro glances at Tomasi and Aldo, who also nod.
He turns back to me. “Thank you, Reyna. Always a pleasure to speak with you.” He looks at Quinn and chuckles. “Congratulations, Mr. Quinn. And good luck.”
When Quinn narrows his eyes suspiciously, I poke him in the ribs to distract him from using Alessandro’s face for target practice.
Massimo turns to his soldiers. He whistles and makes a circle in the air with his finger. Everyone falls back and allows the four heads to pass, then they pick up the body and fall in line behind them, headed for a door at the back of the warehouse.
As they file out, Declan issues a command in Gaelic to his men. They walk to another door, leading out the side.
Smiling, Declan turns to us. “That was a grand bit of fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was a test,” I say, watching the last of Massimo’s men leave. The door slams shut behind him. A trail of blood is the only evidence they were ever here.
Declan murmurs, “Aye.”
I focus on his face, which is unreadable. “You know what this is about, don’t you?”
He lifts a shoulder and flicks his cigarette butt away. “I know all kinds of things, lass. It’s the job. By the way, Sloane wants you both over for supper tonight.”
Glancing at Quinn’s possessive arm clamped around my body, his crystal blue eyes warm with laughter. “If you don’t have any other plans, that is.”
Quinn says, “I’ve got all sorts of plans. What time?”
“Six o’clock work for you, lover boy?”
“Aye.” He looks down at me, and his voice grows husky. “Hope Sloane won’t be serving anything too heavy. I’ll need my energy for later.”
“You don’t have a problem with energy,” I say softly. “Are we done fighting now?”
“Probably not.”
“Great. Thanks for the heads-up.”
When I turn back to Declan, he winks at me before strolling away.
Back in the car, I ask Quinn for his cell phone so I can call Gianni. I left my handbag at the hotel because I was too distracted wanting to rip off Quinn’s head when we left.
When I dial the number, it goes straight to voicemail.
“Gianni. Call me as soon as you get this. Shit, forget that, I don’t have my cell on me, I’m calling from Quinn’s phone.” I look at him and say, “What’s this number?”
He quirks his lips. “You think I’m giving out my untraceable burner number to your idiot brother?”
Good point.