Danny lying dead on the floor. Nico holding his dying father. The sickening sharp scent of blood mixed with what had once been the comforting scent of tomato sauce. Dante with the gun in his hand, horror on his face. And her father laughing—laughing because Dante, who had never wanted to be part of the family business, and couldn’t even kill a spider, was finally a made man.
Nico leaned across the table and put two fingers on her father’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Disgust curled his lip, and he aimed his gun at her father’s back.
“Please,” she begged, the word dropping from her lips before she could catch it. “He’s unarmed, defenseless, and it looks like he might die from his injuries anyway. Do you really want his death on your conscience?”
“I gotta lot of deaths on my conscience,” he said without looking up. “None of them keep me up at night.”
“But this will.” She gritted her teeth, hardly believing she was trying to save the life of the man who had meant to force her into a marriage she didn’t want. “I know what kind of man you are. I saw you that night at Luigi’s. You showed me your humanity, your compassion. If you won’t do this for him, do it for me. Please don’t make me watch him die.”
“You don’t know fuck all about me.” Nico’s eyes darkened almost to black, and in that moment she believed him. She’d changed the night Danny died. Maybe he had, too.
Frankie yanked on her hair, pulled her head back. “You are one crazy fucked-up bitch. You want him to spare a life after you just killed all these men. You should be happy he’s finishing the job.”
“I didn’t do it. I told you that. Look at the walls, the tables, the…” Her voice broke. “Bodies. My father. That wasn’t done with this handgun I’m holding. It was an assault rifle. I heard it.”
“So how is it everyone got hit, your father is still alive, and you didn’t get a scratch on you?”
She wondered that herself, but she had no answer. “I don’t know.”
Frankie released her hair, and pressed his gun to her head again. “Last time. Drop the weapon. I have no hesitation pulling the trigger.”
“I won’t drop it until Nico gives his word he won’t kill my father.”
Nico studied her, his face an expressionless mask. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?”
“Do you have no sense of honor?” she shot back.
“Nico. C’mon man.” Frankie’s voice rose almost to a whine. “I hear sirens. Shoot the bastard and let’s get outta here. We can take the bitch. Hold her for ransom. If she did just whack two bosses and try for another, everyone will want a piece of her.”
“Fuuuuuck.” Nico screamed and fired six bullets into the table in front of her father. He yanked on his tie, loosening it from his neck. “Take her. We’ll find out what really happened here.”
“I gave you my story,” she protested.
Nico closed the distance between them, pressing his chest against the barrel of her gun until the pressure of his advance forced her to drop her arm or risk shooting him.
He stared at her, his fathomless eyes sending a chill down her spine. There was no trace of the man she’d met in the casino the other night or even the boy who’d held her the night Danny died; he was every inch the dangerous mobster he was reputed to be—cold, vicious, ruthless, and, depending on the rules of Toscani succession, now the boss, the new Don Toscani.
“You gave us a story.” His words were ice. “As soon as we get out of here, you’ll give us the truth.” He gripped her chin so hard her eyes watered.
“You can’t take me.” She grabbed his wrist, tried to pull his hand away. “I’m a…” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to claim the protection afforded to women in the Mafia. She’d spent her whole life fighting against the archaic Mafia rules that deemed women worthless, useless, property to be traded away. She had pushed back every time her father tried to force her into the Mafia princess mold, struggled to win his approval for her skill and intelligence and not for the fact that she had breasts and a womb. How ironic that now, in a matter of life or death, the only thing that could save her was the one thing she had always resisted.
“Woman.” He finished the sentence for her. “I am very aware you are a woman, or you’d be dead already. It’s the reason I let you go in the casino. However, Cosa Nostra rules don’t protect women who involve themselves in Mafia business, and this…” He gestured vaguely around the restaurant. “Counts as being involved.”
“I didn’t…”
“I hope not.” He trailed his finger down her throat to the crescents of her breasts bared by her torn dress. “You’re too pretty to kill.”
SIX
What a fucking mistake.