“We do. But our rule remains volatile and they don’t appreciate new leadership.”
Which meant that for all he played at sitting on a fucking throne, a goddamn civil war brewed in a city where my angel partied while I was stuck playing politics.
I’d promised her a gun, and now she was in confirmed dangerandwithout a weapon.
FUCK.
“As you can imagine,” Eva proclaimed. “The last thing we want is a daughter of the Irish Mob being taken while the situation remains fractious.”
Porca troia, daughter of the Irish Mob,my ass.
Soon, she’d be a wife of the Sicilian fuckingFamigghiaif I had anything to say about it.
“If this meeting is over,” I bit off, “then I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Her safety is my priority.”
Martinez’s fingers toyed with his wife’s hair. “Perhaps you should bring her here.”
“What? Why?”
Eva lounged against her husband’s side. “Her sisters, too. I see that you failed to mention them.”
“Look, the trip here was their idea. That must be obvious. Who flies off for a sexcapade with younger sisters in tow? You know better than I do how many Americans visit Cancún for spring break?—”
“We know well enough. Still, we’d hate to be rude. The Frasier daughters might not be high up the ranks, but their association with the leadership of the Five Points as well as your apparent fixation with one of them speaks of their position,” Eva taunted.
“I agree.” Martinez watched on with indulgent delight, as his wife reeled me in like the kipper I wasn’t.
“What’s really going on here? If I didn’t know that I had to contact you to enter the Yucatán Peninsula, then three women with loose ties to the Irish Mob wouldn’t either. I texted Hector Menendez and informed him we were coming?—”
“You should have made it your business to know how deep our revolution has spread,” Martinez countered. “Contacting Menendez could be construed as a breach in our alliance.”
I could feel the vein in my forehead throb.
“If we’re not as transparent as we could be,” Eva slipped in, “then perhaps that’s because you’re as opaque as the marble floor.”
Martinez spread his hands wide. “Come, you two, we’re friends. Let’s lose the hostile tones. Now that you’re here, you present us with an interesting evening, Stan. We shall invite the Frasier sisters along. Protection and pleasure—nothing says they can’t be intertwined.”
Before I could say a fucking word, he clicked his fingers at someone who scuttled along like the sycophant he was.
“If you hurt her, Martinez,” I warned. “Our friendship won’t matter.”
A slow smile crawled over his lips. “My wife is rarely wrong, Stan. Thank you for the reminder.”
And there I had it—confirmation that I’d just walked into a fucking trap.
NINETEEN
KITTY
As Neev, Raisin, and I danced in a circle, I roared along as Becky Hill sang about pieces of her.
Neev hadn’t left my side once, whereas Raisin had grown tired of being the meat in a German-dude sandwich and had returned to us.
Pleasantly drunk after a few too many shots of tequila, I’d let myself relax after accepting that waiting for Stan to text wouldn’t make a message appear.
Still, mellow from the alcohol or not, my instincts raged.
I was always on red alert where my sisters’ safety was concerned.
