Growling out curses in both English and Italian, I kept at it until Maria cried out, “Enzo,” just as something hard pressed against my temple. “Don’t shoot him, please,” she begged.
I went still, terror like I’d never known slicing through me at the idea there was a gun in the room with Maria. I loosened my hands on the man’s throat; he’d been moments from death.
“Let him go,” the man behind me said, but he had to be kneeling to have his weapon by my head, so I took a second to map out my plan and then lifted my hands, as if planning to surrender. I shifted in one fast movement as I’d been trained, and before he knew it, I had the 9mm in my hand instead.
He stumbled back, falling onto his ass in surprise.
“Who are you?” I barked out while standing. I stepped around the man on the floor and motioned for Maria to get behind me.
And then my world stopped when I saw Natalia walking into the living room with a gun to her back, hands in the air.
“Natalia.” Maria started around me, but I snatched her waist with my free hand, stopping her.
“We only came here for you,” the man standing behind Natalia said, eyes on me. “Hand over the gun and let my men come to me, and the women can go.”
I considered my options, and handing over the weapon wasn’t one of them. “And if you don’t want his brains all over my floor, you’ll lower your firearm,” I hissed, keeping my hold on Maria even though it seemed she was determined to trade herself for her pregnant sister.
Natalia shook her head as if in apology. “I had a craving.”
Fuck. She was letting me know Ryan wasn’t home, and he was probably buying breakfast.
“Come closer. We’ll trade,” the man offered, flicking his gloved hand.
“Who are you?” I asked again, doing my best to buy time. Calculate my options. And hope Ryan would soon show up and disarm that prick. I’d just been thinking we needed to move to a place with better security, and now this . . .
I checked on the man I’d nearly choked to death, finding him trying to army crawl away. And my gaze snapped to the familiar ink on the back of his neck. The triscele, a symbol of Sicily, was there—the head of a Gorgon with serpents wrapped around it. It was the insignia for the New York division of the Sicilian mafia.
“Mafioso?” I whispered in alarm, my body somehow feeling both hot and cold at the same time.
The masked man on the floor halted, and he shifted to his side and grabbed something from his pocket. He flipped open the pocketknife as if that would somehow save him.
It made no sense. But . . . “Giovanni sent you?”
“Wait, what?” The man behind Natalia stumbled back a shocked step. “How do you know that name? You’re a chef in Charlotte. You shouldn’t know his name unless . . .” His dark gaze fell to the floor.
“Yes, you idiota,” I rasped. “I’m Lorenzo fucking Costa.” I knelt alongside the bastard and snatched the pocketknife from him. “Lower your weapon,” I ordered to the one holding Natalia hostage.
The man hesitantly did what I’d instructed, and Natalia rushed toward Maria. They hugged and backed away from the scene.
I could breathe again, but these three men were about to lose their ability to do so in a moment.
“Get in my office. Lock the door,” I told Maria and Natalia, and once they were out of sight, I stood tall again, lowering the firearm to my side, knowing the only threat in the room now was me.
“We didn’t know,” the man by the door said. “We’d never have taken the job if we realized you were that Costa.” He slowly peeled his mask up because there was no sense hiding his face anymore.
“Giovanni would’ve known,” I coldly remarked. “So who really sent you?” Is this about Bianca?
The man tucked his firearm at the back of his jeans and held up a surrendering hand. God, he was practically a child. He couldn’t have been any older than I’d been when joining the army.
“Tell me what’s going on or I slit his throat.” When they all remained quiet, I took a knee again and set the blade to the man’s throat, almost hoping for a reason to cut. I nicked him, drawing a little blood, my frustration growing by the second.
“Giovanni doesn’t know we’re here,” the man closest to the door shared. “We take side jobs here and there when we get bored.”
Bored? God help these men, because I wasn’t sure if their age would be enough to save them from me. “What’s your name?”
“Jensen. And the truth is, we were offered a lot of money to show up today to give you a beating. Break your arms. Fingers. Those were our instructions. We only take jobs outside of New York so our boss doesn’t find out about our side gigs.”
“Who hired you?”
“We don’t know, I swear,” Jensen replied. “Dark-web kind of thing.”
My jaw tightened, and I shifted the knife away from his throat and slowly stood, pointing the 9mm at Jensen. “Call Giovanni.”
The guy I’d disarmed, who’d been obediently kneeling, begged, “No, Giovanni will kill us for this.”
I grunted and cocked my head. Did I really need to warn him what I’d do if they didn’t listen?
Jensen was quick to follow my order, and he approached with caution while placing the call on speakerphone.
“Why the hell are you calling me at seven in the morning?” Giovanni rasped in a sleepy voice. “Someone better be dying.”
“Someone is about to,” I remarked in a low voice.
“Who is this?” Giovanni slowly asked.
“Lorenzo Costa. Three of your men are at my home in Charlotte. And they were sent here to try and beat me up.”
A string of Italian curses flooded the line before Giovanni said, “I have nothing to do with this. We have a deal. You know I wouldn’t break it.”
“And what about your son-in-law, Nico? I heard he’s taking over soon.” I was testing him. Testing Jensen’s story, too.
“Nico knows better than to mess with a Costa.” He was quiet before saying, “What did you do, Jensen?”
Jensen looked at me, then back at the phone. “We were just trying to make some money on the side. We never, uh, do anything in New York. I promise.” His dark-brown eyes disappeared with every dramatic blink. “I don’t know who hired us.”
“You have until tomorrow to get me the name of whoever the hell did,” I said in a steady, low voice, doing my best not to unleash my anger on the three idiotas in the room with me. “The only reason we tolerate your family is because you’re my mother’s cousin. But believe me when I tell you that won’t stop me from burning your entire operation to the ground if I don’t have a name by tomorrow.”
Giovanni quietly assessed my threat, but he knew better than to fuck with me. Family or not, I meant every word. “What do you plan to do with them? Jensen is my wife’s nephew.”
I shot a harsh look to the man on the floor clutching his throat, unsure if I could let him walk away from me, but Maria and Natalia were in the other room, and could I kill someone with them here? What would that do to them?
“They’re practically kids,” I hissed. “I suggest you encourage them to shut down their side operation and knock some sense into them when they get back home. Or I’ll hunt them down after they leave here and do it myself.” I focused on the man who’d been on top of Maria, my eyes narrowing his way. “If you ever touch a woman inappropriately again, you’ll beg me to kill you after what I do to you, understand?”
He wrapped a hand over the small puncture at his throat where I’d nicked him, and he nodded.
“I’m showing them mercy, Giovanni. That’s something I don’t do.” I peered back at the phone. “There won’t be any tomorrow if I don’t have the name.”
“Understood,” was all Giovanni said, and then I motioned to Jensen to end the call.
“Leave before I change my mind.” My eyes fell to the blood on my white carpet near my feet as I waited for them to go.
A minute or so later, I looked up to see Ryan now there with a brown bag cradled in his arm. The door must’ve been left open, and he’d assumed Natalia was here, and . . .
Ryan looked at me, then at the 9mm at my side, and the bag fell to the floor as his face went pale. “What the hell happened while I was gone?”
ELEVEN