“That your phone?” I eyed his pocket and smirked. “Did you butt-dial someone?”
He grumbled. “I didn’t—”
If there was ever a perfect told-you-so moment, it was right when he pulled out his phone and Alizé De Villier’s face, his sister-in-law, lit up the screen in a video call. That explained the French accent.
Her lips were puckered in an all-knowing smirk. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Renzo replied.
I dragged his cheek against mine, enjoying the prickly feel of his facial hair, and smiled for the camera. Huh, this pose was picture-worthy. “What can we do for you, Alizé?”
“This is more what I can do for you. Iannelli, as much as it pains me, I owe you a favor for what you did for me a few years back.”
I frowned, a little lost. The only contact I was aware they had in the last few years was that one time I helped arrange for her to visit him in prison with Persetta.
“I remember, but I haven’t cashed it in yet.”
“You’re going to want to do that today.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A little piggy wandered into my husband’s territory a couple of days ago and got caught in a trap.”
“Piggy got a name?”
“Francesco.” She drew out the name. Renzo straightened. “Giambrone.”
“You have him?”
“A friend does. You see, I’m playing the middleman, and this friend has a couple of conditions. You say yes, and he’ll be wrapped with a bow and dropped on your doorstep as soon as this call is over.”
“Who’s the trader?”
Alizé nodded to someone off-screen, and an unknown number rang in. A blurred image appeared, splitting the screen into a three-way video call. Aside from a general silhouette, it was impossible to tell who it was.
“You are?” Renzo asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Raffaele Giambrone.” The voice was overly deep and garbled with a computer-generated warble.
Renzo scoffed. “You want to hand over your father to me?”
“Do with him what you want. I’d rather have a dead man to bury than a father like him.”
“What will it take to get him?”
“I want your assurance that any conflict between the Iannellis and Giambrones stops today. We’ll keep out of California. You keep out of Nevada. Any contracts between us are to be voided by both sides, effective immediately.”
“That all?”
“Yes.”
“You’d let go of your twin’s death?”
“I blame the Dimakos clan. I blame my father. Not you.”
“You’re making it difficult to say no.”
