Page 128 of Brutal Vows

Relaxed and smiling, Declan says, “Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. Sorry to interrupt your morning.”

I expect Reyna to make a smart remark, but she maintains her composure and simply says, “Good morning, Declan.” Then she greets each of the Italians by name in turn.

She receives respectful murmurs in response.

Declan gestures to the group. “These lads would like a word with you, Reyna.”

He strolls away, lighting a cigarette.

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be summoned to an abandoned warehouse on a Sunday morning in front of the leaders of the Mafia and dozens more armed men without a clue as to the reason why, she smiles and says calmly, “Of course. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

I feel a hot flash of pride and admiration for my wife. She might be a hell demon with a forked tongue and a knack for driving a man to the brink of insanity, but goddamn does the woman live up to the meaning of her name.

The one called Massimo with all the hair glances at me. It’s not a friendly look.

“We were hoping to speak to you in private.”

I bristle. Before I can say a word, however, Reyna squeezes my hand. Looking at Massimo with steel in her eyes, she says, “My husband stays, or we both leave. The choice is yours.”

Watching us from behind the Italians, Declan smiles.

Massimo hides his anger with a practiced smile, but his eyes glitter with malice. “Very well. Then I’ll get right to it. We understand there was an incident at your home last week involving armed intruders.”

“There was. What of it?”

“Has your brother discovered who they were?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

It’s a smart answer. She’s not committing herself to a yes or a no, and she’s also not betraying the head of her family by divulging any details.

It’s a sidestep, and a clever one.

She adds, “That’s a question for him.”

“We would ask him, but we don’t have confidence that he would tell us the truth.”

“And why is that?”

“Let’s just say we’ve recently discovered some facts that have led us to believe your brother has been keeping secrets.”

It sounds like a threat. An insinuation that whatever Gianni’s been up to, she’s been up to as well. From one second to the next, this has gone from a conversation to an interrogation.

But if she senses that, she shows no outward sign. Her expression is placid. Clasped in mine, her hand is cool and dry.

When Massimo doesn’t say anything for a while and only stands there staring at her, trying to be intimidating, she asks politely, “I’m sorry, was there a question I missed?”

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.”