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“Thanks, baby,” I say as if I wasn’t already planning to take Pat with me.
“Five minutes, princess,” she growls.
I adjust her collar, which isn’t crooked at all. “And if I’m longer?”
She grabs my wrist in one hand and raises it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. A promise. “I’ll come get you myself.”
I chuckle as I rise from her lap, her hand still holding my wrist like I need balance because she’s left me off-kilter. I refuse to acknowledge the too-wet feeling between my legs as I adjust the hem of my dress and nod to Jimmy and the district attorney with a wink. “Have fun, boys.”
I can feel Logan watching my ass until I’m out of sight. Disgust coats my skin like slime. I want to turn back, grab the man by the taint, and twist until he screams. But I can’t. So I walk through the lounge, past the poker table without so much as a twitch toward it and the Birdwatcher sitting there, and into the dimly lit hallway. The burly guard protects the staircase, which leads down to the bloody basement and up to the sinful second floor. I ignore him, aiming for the powder room with gilded mirrors and tufted chairs that precedes the restroom. And I wait.
Thankfully, the Birdwatcher is prompt.
They stride past us and directly into the restroom. And Ifollow straight after. The room is ornate, the surfaces shining, the lamps glowing gold, the mirrors unmarred. As if a wealthy man’s shit deserves better treatment than a poor man’s life.
They stand at the vanity, arms crossed and dreads tied back loosely. “Miss Gallo.”
I stand with my back to the door and wrinkle my nose at the name—it’s diminutive. Like I’m a little girl without twenty-six years of violence and crime staining my manicured hands.
They either don’t notice or don’t care. “You secured yourself an invitation to Casa Nostra. How conniving of you.”
I wave away their words. “I don’t have much time.”
“No, you don’t.” The way they say this implies far more than the promise of Tamayo coming to find me. “Everyone’s all atwitter with the news of your…impending nuptials.”
“To whom?” I tilt my head.
They mirror my movement. “That remains to be seen.”
I don’t have time for riddles. “My family—we’re in trouble.”
They don’t speak, head still tilted and eyes trained on me. I’m not sure who gave them the moniker, the Birdwatcher. Maybe it was them, maybe it was a client or a victim. Whoever it was, they chose well. The Birdwatcher doesn’t get involved in the muck of gaining and losing power, the violence of crime and punishment. They watch. They wait. They remember.
I take in a steeling breath. “I need to know the trouble.”
They twirl their wrist. “I believe your mother would know far better than I.”
“She would,” I agree.
They tuck their hand back into the crook of their arm. “I assume she’s not speaking to you.”
“Why assume when you already know,” I deadpan.
They flash a cheshire grin.
“What’s your price?” I ask.
They stare at me with wide, unblinking eyes, and I wait on pins and needles, apprehension growing with each breath I take.I know they don’t deal in money, but rather in a currency more sinister and dangerous to a mafia don’s daughter—secrets and favors. I already promised Tamayo a favor, something that weighs heavier than the ruby at my throat. What will the Birdwatcher deem worthy enough to spill the information I need?
They push off the vanity and drop their hands, stuffing them into their trouser pockets. “I require three secrets.”
I suck in another fortifying breath. “From the Gallo Family?”
They stare at me and their grin grows a millimeter at a time, each sharp tooth revealed stirring ominous dread inside my gut. Finally, they shake their head. “No, Miss Gallo. From the Tamayo Family.”
TAMAYO
The district attorney is half a second away from feeling my hand around his throat when he finally unsticks his eyes from Zarina’s ass. He swivels his attention back to Jimmy then me, and I cock my brow. He just grins with a shrug. Like I caught him with his hand in the cookie jar rather than visually assaulting my fake fiancée.