“If we do go ahead with this plan, do you have someone in mind?” Dante finally asks.
I nod. “I do.”
“Fuck this.” Marco stands, clattering his chair as if trying to make the most noise possible.
“Is there a reason you’re being even more of an asshole than usual, Marco?” I ask.
“Yeah, there is.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m tired of this shit. I have better things to do with my life than constantly look over my shoulder. Now you’re telling me we got Russians up our asses, and you know what that says to me? That this shit is never gonna end. Whatever happened togetting out?”
Dante gestures to Marco to sit back down. “Marco, listen—”
“No. I don’t want to listen. I hate this.” He slams back into his chair.
“Hey,” I say, raising my voice in anger like I rarely do. “You need to stop disrespecting Dante. He might be your brother, but he’s also the boss of this family, and that attitude ain’t gonna fly. Like it or not, you’re a Bellanti. We live by a code.”
“Sorry,” he says to Dante, but not very sincerely.
“No big,” Dante says.
I’m not done talking to Marco. “Do you thinkanyof us want this kind of life? We want out, too. That’s still our end game. But we can’t get there without violence, whether we like it or not.”
“I know someone who likes it,” Marco says under his breath, crossing his arms. “So, what? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s not my job to make you feel better,” I remind him. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“Which you’ve done a great job of so far,” he retorts sarcastically.
I jerk out of my chair, but Dante puts a hand on my chest and tells me to sit back down. I do.
“So you’re sending Candi in, then?” Marco says.
Glaring daggers at him, I say, “No.”
“We’re not doing that,” Dante agrees.
“Why not?” Marco presses. “She’s an experienced mole. She knows how to play both sides. The Brunos trust her. There’s no one better.”
“I said no.”
He smirks. “Seriously? She won you over that easily? A little spread of the legs and you’re a goner, huh?”
Slowly moving back my chair this time, so as not to aggravate Dante again, I stand up and place my hands on the edge of the table to keep from throttling my brother.
“Look who’s talking, Mr.Pussywhipped,” I growl.
“That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Sprinkles,” Marco says.
“Boys,” Dante says warningly, sounding eerily like our late father.
“You’ve got no room to talk,” I tell Marco. “You married theenemy.”
It’s true. Karina is—was—a Bruno. Sergio Bruno’s niece, in fact.
Marco’s upper body goes tight, his biceps bulging and relaxing as if he’s holding himself back. But instead of launching himself at me, he grins humorlessly and narrows his eyes.
“And you marriedtheir mole, so I guess we’re even! You know what would make us even more even? If you turn Candi over to me so I can interrogate her in the Deep Cellar, just like you did with my wife. Then we’ll see how you like it,” Marco says. “Or are you the only person in the family who gets to torture people for fun?”
I’m moving before he gets the last few words out, my fist connecting with his lips even as they’re still moving. Marco’s head snaps back, but he’s quick—he’s always been quick—and he’s on me in a blink. Gripping my collar in both hands, he drives me backward into the wall. As he pulls a fist, Dante jumps between us, his eyes wild with fury.
