“I’ll be right back, going to get some stuff from my room,” I lie, and nearly half run to my room.
I thank past-Elena for cleaning and charging the new vibrator I got online as I get off to images of Finn O’Brien using power tools and sweetly touching my face.
32
CILLIAN
Declanand I are sitting across from Lev, who looks smugger than a pig in shit.
“Things are well in paradise?” he draws.
“Cut the shit, Lev. What is this about?” I ask, ready to get home.
Finn texted me and said that he was helping Elena carry all her new shit to her nest. It’s not that I don’t trust my brother, but I don’t want him to fuck up what Elena and I are working towards. All he has to do is say one thing, and it could set us all back. I hate thinking like that because I know he’s been trying.
I’m actually starting to see some glimpses of the brother I once knew, and I don’t know how to handle that information.
“Anthony Amante was spotted in Reno,” Lev informs, cutting through the bullshit.
“Great, he’s fucking seven hours away. What do you want me to do with that?” Declan asks.
Lev rolls his eyes and hands over a photograph.
“The dumb shit really took her,” I whisper as I look down at the picture. It’s Anthony Amante holding Natasha Barbieri’s wrist with a vice-like grip.
“There’s speculation the Barbieri girl is hiding her designation. I don’t know if the asshole is trying to set up shop in Reno now that he knows he has a death warrant in Sin City, but my guess is he’s trying to use the girl to gain leverage. The same thing he wanted to do with that little Omega of yours.”
“Thank you for the intel, Lev,” I say, going to grab the photo.
“Ah. Information isn’t free.” He holds the photograph, looking down at it before glancing back up at me.
“I want a meeting with Salvatore Barbieri.”
“Why?”
“I want to make a deal. I will rescue his daughter, and perhaps we can come to an agreement of some sorts.”
“There’s no indication that she’s an Omega.”
“I don’t care. Make it happen.”
In an effort to get home and not have to deal with this shit anymore, I pull out my phone and call Salvatore Barbieri.
“What?” he answers the phone sharply.
“We have intel on Natasha. Anthony has her.”
“I’m going to gut that rat fucker. Where are they?”
I sigh and look up at Lev. “Lev Dezhurov found them. I’m passing the phone over to him.”
Lev grins as I hand him the phone, and he tells the head of the Western Italian mafia that he wants to marry his daughter and that he will personally handle getting her back safely.
It’s all a little dramatic, but knowing that Anthony is afraid to show his face in town makes me feel a little better about Elena going into heat. With the Russians and the Italians knowing where he is and that he has Natasha with him, it basically absolves the Irish from having any part of this issue, and yet we still benefit.
Almost all our relationships are well-standing, minus a few outlying families. I’ll have to thank Anthony Amante for hisservice after Lev or Salvatore puts him in a shallow grave in the desert.
Lev hands me back the phone. The call has already been disconnected.
