Page 22

“You focus on you. I’ll eventually find someone.”
“We caught a Camorrista. He was trying to sabotage some of the gaming machines in my clubs,” Renato said as he entered my father’s and my office in the back of our biggest casino ship. In the beginning, the gentle sway of the ship had been unnerving, but by now, I was used to spending part of my day on water.
Gambling and whores were the golden combination when it came to making money, which was why Renato swam in it.
Dad peered up from a stack of papers with the forged receipts of our bars from our head accountant. His eyes met mine. “You can question him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Whenever a Camorrista was caught near or in Minneapolis, I made sure I got my hands on him. It wasn’t the same as torturing Remo Falcone, but it was better than nothing.
“He’s mimicking our tactic,” I muttered as I jumped into Renato’s vintage Jaguar.
“Because it’s a good one.”
“Because he’s mocking us,” I contradicted, feeling a familiar fury burn in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Remo Falcone.
Over the years, our war with the Camorra had become less active. Too many soldiers had lost their lives since the war had begun. Dante preferred to hurt the Camorra’s business nowadays and no longer tried to kill the Falcone brothers. Of course, if we managed to get our hands on one of them again, that might change.
I sometimes wondered what I would do if I ran across Remo Falcone. I wanted nothing more than to kill him for what he’d done, for what he’d taken from me. Unfortunately, I knew by killing him, I’d hurt Serafina. She wouldn’t magically stop loving him because I killed him. Worse, she’d probably romanticize his whole existence even more than before. She had forgiven him for kidnapping her, something I could never do and could not understand.
Sometimes I thought I’d kill him anyway. I’d kill him for Enea, Arlo, and Domenico. I owed it to them. They had given their lives for me and my sister. Remo had murdered them, yet they hadn’t been avenged.
“Did you listen to a word I just said?”
I gave Renato a look. He parked the car in front of an Outfit warehouse where we kept bar and restaurant supplies, but in its underbelly, cells for questioning had been set up.
“How are wedding preparations coming along?”
“Good?”
Renato snorted. “You have no clue.”
I shrugged. “I have more important things on my mind than matching napkins to candles.” I got out of the car, and Renato joined me soon after.
He grinned. “What about your bride? You never talk to me about her. Have you made any progress? Are you excited about the wedding night?”
I cocked an eyebrow. Renato and I were used to chatting about our affairs and one-night stands. He obviously thought I’d keep up that kind of talk about my future wife.
“With that face, she’s a ten out of ten. The wheelchair makes me really curious about certain positions, though—”
I shoved him so hard he slammed against the side of his car, then got in his face. “We’re best friends, and I’d die for you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass for disrespecting my fiancée. So stop talking about her like that.”
Renato raised his palms. “You’re right.”
I took a step back and blew out a breath. He was right. Emma was incredibly beautiful, and if I allowed myself to think about our wedding night, I’d be eager as hell, but my mind was elsewhere, and right now, Emma wasn’t mine yet. She wasn’t even of age yet, so I simply wouldn’t entertain those distracting thoughts.
We entered the warehouse after entering a code into a panel, then crossed one of the aisles to the end of the vast hall until we reached a flap door. A steep staircase led to a basement. The flickering halogen lights stung my eyes as we followed a guard’s pointing finger toward a cell to our right. Inside, we found a no-name from the Camorra. Some lowly soldier from Kansas City. It was the Camorra city closest to our territory.
Several years ago, we’d killed the Underboss there and tried to kill the new one too. Now things were less potent.
Only men like the one in front of me died nowadays. We contented ourselves with pissing each other off. Maybe one day, I’d get the chance to kill another Camorrista of importance.
The Camorrista in front of me sat on the floor and stared up at me with prideful and stubborn eyes. He was trying to make his Capo proud, no doubt. Torture would break him like it broke all of them. All but Remo Falcone. Thinking of how I’d tortured him to within an inch of his life was still one of the fucking bestmoments of my life, followed by the fucking worst when my twin sister saved him.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over a hook on the wall, then began to roll up my sleeves.
The man sneered up at me. “I bet you can’t sleep at night because you dream about how Remo sticks his cock into your sister’s holes.”
I stalked toward him, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him to his feet. Renato grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back.