The faux sweetness in Elio’s voice made my skin crawl. The only thing stopping me from showing the disgust I felt was the mask that held one of the many boundaries I needed for this conversation. Not much has changed with how Elio tried to worm his way under my skin. The other part of me wished I could show him the unstable rage he created in me. The rage that not even the likes of a man like him could smother. I was content to live on the other side of the world from him with a new identity and my own mafia, without finding his wretched ass in Italy when I could have. Now the motherfucker took Patty from me, and would likely do the same to Grant. He was due for a one-way trip to Hell, along with his asshole son, Gabriele. Judging from how calmly he acted now, he probably had no clue his spawn was getting the shit beat out of him on my behalf.
“You must have gone blind from all the masterbating, then,” the voice modulator took away most of my snarkiness. “Might want to get that looked at, old man.”
He struggled to keep that indifferent façade. But the way his left eye just barely twitched was telling enough. Even more satisfying, the last time I called him an old man, he backhanded me so hard my ears rang. That I could sit and openly insult him now, not having to be in the same room and breathe the same air his vile lungs expelled, was a small victory.
Elio’s chuckle was strained. “Spunky little bitch, aren’t you? It’s easy to throw insults through a screen. Not much haschanged with you, hiding in the dark and sneaking jabs when someone’s not looking.”
“I’d like to think of it as using my strengths.”
“Your strengths involve being on your back, Lorelai. We both know that.”
This fucking asshole.
I knew what Elio wanted. He wanted a reaction. He couldn’t see my face, so he was looking for emotional outbursts. Anything to indicate that he had pushed me off-balance. He probably didn’t like the idea that I was an older, wiser version of the woman he physically and mentally raped for years.
“I don’t think you know anything about me, Elio,” I leaned back in my chair and kicked my feet up on the corner, folding my gloved hands in my lap in the pose of perfect ease. “Now cut the shit and tell me what you want.”
I glanced at my computer screen to check the tracking app. If he thought I was trying to cut the call short because he was wasting my time, he would only try to drag it out longer to spite me. Elio played right into my trap. Like he totally forgot—or maybe underestimated—my skills. The ones that didn’t involve being on my back.
“So harsh,” he chuckled. “Maybe I wanted to catch up. It’s been ten years, I missed you.” A sadistic smile spread across his perfect teeth. “I’m open to forgiving and forgetting, if you are. We could go back to Ireland together, see your father—”
I lifted my hands to link behind my head and rocked back in the chair, and Elio’s gaze immediately zeroed in on my chest covered with a black tank top. Fucking pervert. “I’m shocked the asshole is still alive. You haven’t been able to off him yet? How disappointing for you.”
His eye twitched again. They must be fighting over some petty drama. “We have a sort of… truce, now. I’m sure he would loveto see you, too. Ryan would be impressed with the little empire you’ve made for yourself out here.”
At that, I threw my head back and cackled. The longer I denied him an actual answer, the darker his expression turned. “Oh, Elio!” My voice was airy as I recovered. My hands came down to slap my thighs in amusement. “You’re such a bad liar! We both know if you ever came within eyesight of old McGregor, he’d put a bullet right between your eyes! Last chance before I hang up, tell me what the fuck you want.”
The tracker finished running, opening a new set of windows triangulating Elio’s position on a map. A map I was familiar with, unfortunately.
He was here. In Vegas, as Taylor suspected.
The ability to scan through the data while appearing to look straight on was the greatest perk of this mask. As I propped my chin on folded hands and leaned my elbows on the desk, my mind was already running through the Red Riot roster of who would be the closest to do recon on this motherfucker right now.
“Is he someone who’s important to you?”
I hadn’t been paying attention to Elio’s egotistical prattling, but played it off as an uncomfortable silence. “Who?” I finally asked.
He scoffed. “You have certainly turned into a heartless bitch, I see. Maybe it’s better toshowyou.”
His hand reached out of frame to push some buttons, and the screen flickered to another view as he flipped the camera around. It looked like we were watching a closed-circuit feed on a bank of screens, shot from high in the corner of what looked like an old cold storage room. Right in the middle, someone was tied to a chair, hunched over with their head hanging down. Even in black and white, disheveled dark hair covering any defining features of his face, a trickle of recognition dripped down my spine in a cold chill.
“Is this someone you know?” Even Elio’s audio made me want to throw a fist through the screen. I found myself leaning closer, intent on finding any source of life in the limp, bare body.
One that very clearly showed my bite mark on his shoulder. The skin around it was still pink and freshly healed. The rest of Grant looked pretty fucked up, bleeding profusely from several deep cuts and covered in bruises the contrasted with his skin in the black-and-white feed. Grant couldn't have been in Elio's captivity for longer than a day, but it looked like my former abuser made the most of his time beating the shit out of him.
I was slow to respond. “An… acquaintance.” The lie left a bitter aftertaste, mixed with the coppery taste of blood from biting the inside of my cheek in barely-contained fury.
“Huh,” he mused. “I was under the impression he meant more to you, judging from that bite. But if that’s the case, I can just send someone in to—”
“You’d be pissing off Andrea Caruso, offing one of his underlings like this,” I answered, trying to keep my voice even and unrushed. “Is that what you want?”
The screen flashed back to Elio’s beaming face. Now he was the one to lean back, knowing he had some kind of hand to call my bluff. “Andrea won’t be a problem. We have a good working relationship. His family is part of my family, as I'm sure you remember. Or maybe not. You were a little… preoccupied at the time, entertaining my guests." The chuckle that left his smiling mouth made my heart pound even harder. "Gabriele married one of his cousins, who is a part of the main branch in Italy.”
With a resoundingclick, all the pieces of the puzzle on how Elio found me snapped together. Or more specifically, how it would benefit Andrea. This was going to turn into a hostile takeover. He was going to hand my territory over to the Caruso family on a silver platter. And Elio used the chaos of torturing and murdering Patty, along with shooting up the club, to sneakinto Vegas under my nose attack from the inside. At the end of the day, hedidknow what hurt me the most. It was a particularly dark gift of his.
“Uh-huh,” I answered blandly, already typing out orders by email and sharing coordinates of where Elio’s call was coming from. The fact he didn’t even bother to reroute or hide his location made him either cocky or very technologically challenged. Given his age and personality, it could be both. “Alright Elio, it’s been real shit talking to you, but I’ll be seeing you soon, ‘kay? Bye, asshole.”
The look of pure rage that darkened his face just before the call ended was worth the last eight minutes of being subjected to his haughty attitude. One finger tapped the earbud in my right ear to turn on the voice control. “Call Kent.”
