Page 176 of Sins of the Orchid

“Who said that I shot him?”

“Lorenzo.”

There was no point in lying about it. “Luigi failed to tell me who you were promised to. It seemed a better option to shoot him than your father.”

“Santi!” Her voice held a note of reprimand. I was head of the Cosa Nostra, but Amore could easily bring me to my knees. “I want a big, happy family if we are to get married. No shooting each other.”

“What do you meanif?” I growled. “Wearegetting married.”

“No asking, huh?” Her voice was light. “No getting down on one knee and the whole shebang?”

I chuckled. “You will marry me, baby. If you want me to get down on one knee, I will, but we’ll get married regardless.”

“God, you make me hot when you are so demanding.”

I slapped her butt lightly. “Save it for when we are safe.”

“And cleaned up,” she added, giggling softly. “Ohhh, I can’t wait, Russo.”

“You’ll soon be a Russo too, baby.” Fuck, I’d never felt this happy before.

Continuing our walk in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, the future looked bright. My arm throbbed but the cut had stopped bleeding a while back. I mulled over the information Amore had given me. We had to get rid of George Anderson.

“Santi?” Amore’s voice was tentative.

“Yeah.”

“You should think about letting Adriano work for you,” she said in a soft voice. “That’s all he’s ever wanted. Even after catching us earlier, he stood by you.”

“How do you figure?” I questioned her, interested in how she would know whose side Adriano was on.

“Just the way he positioned himself,” she muttered. “He’d never hurt you.”

CHAPTER68

Amore

Santi’s jaw pressed tightly, but he didn’t comment. I couldn’t understand this man. Maybe it was the don in him. I couldn’t understand my grandmother either, nor my father. There seemed to be a trend here.

My muscles were sore, and my feet ached. We’d been walking for hours, and the terrain wasn’t easy on my feet. This was a good lesson to have a pair of sneakers in every damn car I entered. Exhaustion was slowly creeping in.

“We’re here,” he finally announced, and I glanced around. We were in a field with a red barn ahead of us and a line of trees behind us. It was dark, the bright full moon throwing shadows over the entire area. “My car is in the barn.”

I scanned the area warily. “There won’t be farmers coming out, shooting at us, I hope.”

“We are safe,” he said. “I own this property.”

I raised my eyebrow. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But for some reason, I assumed he only owned the building in New York and the only property he owned outside the city was his parents’ Long Island house.

Once we came to the barn door, there was a fancy digital lock on it. I watched Santi put in a code and it popped open. He pulled his gun out of the holster and entered first with me right behind him. He switched hands so he could hold his gun in his right hand. We could hear a cooing noise, a low and sweet sound through the barn.

The moment the door creaked, the cooing noise ceased, and birds flew through the air and out of the barn or to the far corners where they felt safe.

“We’re good,” Santi said.

“Because of the birds?” I asked him.

He nodded. “If someone was here, the birds wouldn’t have been here.”