“The boss.”
“This is fucking tedious,” Mateo says as he drags his hand down his face. “And she’ll wake up soon.”
“Let’s take his foot,” I announce as I stand, and Vinny moans. “TELL ME WHO YOU FUCKING WORK FOR!”
I pick up an axe and swing it around.
“Tell me. Now.”
“Rizzo.”
The room stills.
My eyes find Julian’s.
“Salvatore Rizzo?” I ask as I let the axe fall to the floor.
“Yeah.” He’s breathing hard. “Kill me.”
“Why does he want the girl?” Julian asks.
“Do kno. Jush do wha tol.”
I spin on my heel and leave the room. There’s a scream and then silence behind me as Carson’s the last to leave.
“Christ, Rome,” Julian says.
“Not here,” I reply as I press the call button for the elevator, then press my hand to the palm reader for the penthouse floor.
We’re silent as we ride up, and when we walk inside, I peel off to go check on my firefly.
She’s still out cold.
I trash the clothes I was wearing, take a shower to get any blood or body matter off my body, and change into fresh slacks and a shirt then walk downstairs.
“Who the fuck is she?” Julian demands. “Because if she has the Italian Mafia after her, she’s not just an anonymous bartender, and she kept saying she’s not going back to her father.”
“Is she a setup?” Mateo asks with a scowl.
“No.” I pace in front of the windows that give me a view of the Strip. The glass is bulletproof, and treated so I can see out, but no one can see in.
“Rome, listen,” Julian says. He’s always the most reasonable of us, and that’s not saying much because the man can be unhinged. “It’s a little too convenient that Rizzo tried to take over my port, and his men tried to steal your bartender at the same time.”
“You really don’t know her,” Carson adds. “She’s worked for you for two fucking days. She could be a scout for them. A spy.”
I shake my head, but they keep going.
“Stop thinking with your dick,” Mateo says with growing impatience, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“You didn’t see her the night she came in here,” Ireply evenly. “Iknowshe had nothing to do with what happened in LA. I have questions, and we’ll get the answers, but I’m telling you she’s not a fucking spy.”
“I don’t trust her,” Julian says.
“That’s fine,” I reply. “Because youdotrust me.”
He’s already shaking his head when I hear a noise come from upstairs, and we all go perfectly still. Suddenly, feet slap on the hardwood floors, and we turn to the stairs as Lulu runs down them and toward the front door.
Fifteen
