The second I begin sifting through the pliers and scalpels with loud clangs, he starts squirming.
“Let’s go back to the beginning,” I say absently. “Your plane lands at 3:45 pm. Massimo disappears at five. And then we seeyouon the security cameras next to his house in LA, all hoodedup on a sunny, windless afternoon. Of everyone we showed the footage to, not a single person recognized you. You’re not from around here, nor have we heard of you being involved with any of the criminal families in the country. So…”
I walk around him, bringing the pliers to his mouth.
“You can understand, then, why I’m not going to stop at giving you two black eyes. Whenever you’re ready to talk—” I force his mouth open and grip one of his front teeth with the metal cutters, twisting. But before I pull the tooth out of the cavity, his eyes dart up as he yells for me to stop.
“Oh?” I ask wryly. “Already? There goes the meaningful something you’re fighting for, I guess.”
I remove the pliers, just enough so he can speak. “If I tell you, at least take care of my daughter. She deserves better than the dead-beat father she got.”
“Hmm. Well, money isn’t a problem. But if you’re asking me to babysit, I’m afraid I’m not exactly a role model.”
He huffs out a nervous laugh. “You’re not exactly known for your goodwill either. We heard of you out in Europe—you kill like you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Because I don’t,” I say, though something rubs me the wrong way as the words leave my mouth, the memory of Cecilia’s sweet tongue wrapped around mine hitting me out of nowhere. “Now, who the fuck sent you to Massimo’s house that day?”
“Five million, delivered to my ex-wife at my funeral. Say yes, and I’ll tell you who ordered the kill…”
“How about for every second you waste my fucking time, you lose one. We’re currently at four. Three.Two?—”
A grunt. “H-He’s not aCapo. And up until recently, he didn’t exist. Kept his identity hidden.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he winces, “he’s close to the Ferraras. Like, very fucking close.”
I blink slowly behind him, taken aback by the information. Suddenly, the symbol left at the murder scenes makes a whole lot of sense.Always family. “Keep talking,” I nudge him.
“Name’s Remus. Grew up on a farm in Naples with a drunk and his wife. He didn’t know he was Antonio’s son until recently. Now that he does, he’s coming for his business. Kept tabs on everyone here so no one sniffed him out before he set his plan in motion.”
“That’s why he killed Massimo,” I say, piecing things together. “And theCapobefore him. He knew they were going for the same thing, so he simply removed his competition.”
He nods. “We were neighbors. Grew up together. And when he told me his plans, he said he’d take care of my family if I helped him.”
“That’syour good cause? Helping a nobody become a criminal?” I snort.
“You don’t know what he’s been through. He sacrificed everything for this, and?—”
“And you just fucking betrayed him. Some neighbor you are.” I let go of his jaw, rounding his chair to face him. “And where is he now, this Remus?”
“Maybe Naples. Maybe on the West Coast, in San Maleno. He was smart enough not to tell me,” he mutters, regret growing on his splintered mouth like mold on a damp surface. I have zero sympathy. You don’t betray a brother on a whim and then get to feel sad about it.
“Well, then. We’re down to zero million. Nah, don’t frown. I’m doing your daughter a favor,” I say. “Better if she grows up with a backbone, since, clearly, she’s not getting one from you.”
Then, I shove a bloody rag into his mouth, texting Rodion to come get rid of him. I’ve lost my patience and my interest. Besides, Wolfgang will want to know the intel sooner rather than later.
Maybe Remus-sob-story is, indeed, preying on the Italians from San Maleno. In that case, time isn’t only of the essence, but this whole thing got fucking personal.
Because apparently, I have a vengeful brother-in-law, and fuck knows how he feels about the alliance we just formed with the Ferraras.
By the timeI get back to Alemont City, it’s snowing. The driveway is already covered in white, and the forest hums with the whooshing of an eager wind.
I still haven’t got out of the car. Looking at this mansion and knowing who’s in there makes me think twice about entering. Since the wedding night, my mind has been flooded with thoughts…questions…things I have no business entertaining. I’m not thinking straight. Yet every second I’m not barging in and pulling my wife into another desperate kiss feels like walking parched through the desert.
Closing my eyes, I let out an exasperated exhale.
If I focus hard enough, I can still taste her on my tongue. She was sweet, and delicate, and had this distinct flavor that’s inherently hers—a combination of her vanilla lip balm and sunshine, the ocean,Cecilia.
