She offered him a smile. “Will you wake me with a kiss if I do?”
He couldn’t help himself but to curl a finger beneath her chin and stroke his thumb across her lip. “Happily. Any body part of preference?”
As he’d hoped, her skin bloomed with a flush and she swatted his hand away. “Fiend. Just be careful out there, okay?” She wasn’t asking questions, but she was, apparently, accurately assuming that he wasn’t leaving for anything peaceful.
His amusement faded and he forced himself to step away. “Yes, ma’am.” He could linger and flirt with her for days, but that would not be productive. Not for business, at least. So, with more reluctance than he could remember, Santino stepped from his home and strode straight for the ambiguous SUV at the curb.
Armando pulled his door open swiftly, as always, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Tito was confirmed home ten minutes ago, Boss.”
Santino nodded and ducked into the backseat. “Let’s not waste time, then.” Luca had come through with solid information. But there were still too many things Santino did not know. Namely, whether or not Tito was one of many, or how far up the betrayal had crept.
Dario cut the engine once they arrived outside Tito’s rental home. The street was poorly lit and quiet, leaving it feeling closer to midnight than the mid-evening hour it was. That was fine.
The sound of Armando’s seatbelt reversing to neutral was loud in the silent cab before he spoke. “Marco’s in position. Aronne’s nice and distracted with his weekend playmates for the night.”
Santino fought the urge to roll his eyes. Aronne was the oldest of his capos, and Tito’s direct superior. The man had always been curt but efficient with him, and was known to spend more time with random women half his age than his actual wife. Since he had no pressing marching orders, it was no surprise he’d tucked himself away with someone new. For the moment, Santino needed to be grateful for that. If Aronne was otherwise occupied, Tito was less likely to get out a call for help in his panic.
Santino popped open his door. “It’s time.”
They left Dario with the SUV and strode silently up to Tito’s front door. Santino barely had time to glance side-to-side before Armando had the cheap lock picked, it took little more effort for him to knock free the interior latch, and he swung the door open.
Really, for a mafia guy, Tito’s home security was abysmal. He didn’t even have a dog.
Santino followed Armando into the house, pushed the door shut behind him, and smiled into the darkened space. It was just past nine o’clock, and the house was dark like the resident had already gone to bed. They swept the semi-open spaces quickly, verifying that they were the only ones up and moving, and Santino slipped into the single bedroom.
Dark amusement trickled through him. Tito had gone to bed, but not settled in for sleep. The poor, oblivious fool was seated high on his double-wide mattress with his back to the headboard and blankets kicked down. His pants were undone, he had his dick in his hand, and his attention was focused so intently on theporn surely streaming through the tablet in his other hand that he hadn’t noticed anyone enter his space. He was grunting and groaning, hips sporadically bucking, and licking his lips like he wanted to take a bite of whatever he was he watching.
Santino turned his head and arched a brow for Armando, not particularly impressed with the sight or lack of awareness.
Armando gave a shake of his head, indicating agreement. Understanding.
Santino moved along the wall, well out of the small window of light provided by the glowing digital display, and lowered himself into the old, tufted chair that occupied the awkward corner of the room and faced the bed. And like the cruel bastard he was, he waited in impatient silence until the traitor’s movements lost their rhythm, becoming erratic—and then he ruined it. “Yo, Tito. Having a good night?”
As he’d suspected, Tito’s clunky headphones weren’t so noise-cancelling that he wouldn’t hear a projected voice that didn’t belong. And the moment Santino’s taunting voice hit the air, Tito jumped about a foot off the bed and let out a truly impressive shrill.
The tablet was flung to the side, crashing into the wall.
Tito’s dick twitched and flopped around with the man’s startled, scrambling movement. A pathetic drizzle of cum leaked out before it visibly deflated, shriveling up on itself even as Tito attempted to fix his pants.
Santino leaned back and crossed his legs, making a show of getting comfortable. “Sorry, bad time?”
Tito ripped off the headphones, letting them drop to the mattress, and heaved a breath. If the lights were on, Santino would surely be able to see the other man’s skin flush with emotion. Even if Tito were loyal, he’d be agitated at that type of interruption. Still, of course, he said, “N-no, sir. You just, uh,caught me by surprise is all.” He cleared his throat, smoothed a hand down his shirt, and reached for the lamp beside his bed.
“Let’s leave that off,” Santino said. He watched Tito’s hand fall away. “We need to have a private chat, you and I, about a rumor I’ve heard.”
Tito lifted his head. Enough light drifted in through the old, cracked blinds that Santino was sure a frown bent Tito’s lips. “A rumor, Boss?”
Joey’s words rose from Santino’s memory with ease. “‘Thank God we got the Segretis, am I right?’” He let the repeated phrase hang for long enough that the straightening of Tito’s spine screamed loudly in the dark. “Does that sound familiar to you, Tito?”
Tito’s hands curled into fists. “No,” he said. “No, Boss, I swear. I never said anything like that!”
Santino hummed and tilted his head to one side. “Huh. I don’t remember accusing you of being the one who said those words.”
Tito shot to his feet. “You implied it!”
Santino drummed his fingers over his knee. “Sit back down, Tito.”
“Boss, I never—”
