I need to talk to my husband.
Urgency burns in my gut, but I’m not sure what to do. Run to him and tell him what little I know about Juliana’s impending wedding? Confess that my best friend calls Sergio Bruno uncle? My rational self rejects these impulses. I can’t go in, guns blazing, when I don’t know anything for certain…
Except that I’ve been manipulated cruelly by my best friend. I feel sick at the thought. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to her the next time we speak. How much trouble will I be in when I tell her I didn’t get those names for her? I thought our friendship was bulletproof. Is it even Armani’s help that I’m after, or am I trying to satisfy some dark urge to make my friend pay for deceiving me?
Either way, my instincts are telling me to go to Armani, to get his help sorting this out. It’s the only way forward I can see.
Hurrying into the bedroom, I shrug off my robe and get dressed. This is it.
No more secrets. No more lies.
It’s time to tell Armani the truth.
28
ARMANI
“Do you have a name for us?”
“Better.” With that, Clayton slaps three black-and-white prints on Dante’s desk and crosses his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “I have pictures.”
My brother-in-law has wasted no time flushing out another local Bratva member with inside knowledge of the Bruno deal. Dante and Marco lean over to look as I grab the photos and study them.
Each one shows an increasingly zoomed-in image of a square-jawed man with thick brows whose broad shoulders strain the seams of his black leather jacket as he orders from an outdoor café, waits for his order, and finally leaves with a coffee in his hand.
“Is this—this looks like downtown,” Marco says.
“Sharp eye on ya,” Clayton says.
He pulls up more photos on his phone and passes the device around. These are in color and show the man walking along the waterfront, at the racetrack, and entering Sergio Bruno’s property with a couple of goons at his side.
The picture quality isn’t great, but the man’s tall frame and leather jacket are unmistakable. And the fact that he’s visited Bruno on his home turf? Jackpot.
“Fuck, Clayton, you’re good,” Marco says, shaking his head in wonder.
Dante musters a tight smile. “Well done. You sure this is our guy, though? He looks a lot younger than I expected. A little green. Or maybe he just needs a haircut.”
“What a crotchety-ass old man thing to say,” Marco razzes him.
“You could use a haircut, too,fratellino,” Dante retorts. “You look like a mook.”
“Amook? Case in point, grandpa,” Marco says, sweeping back the dark hair at his temples. “Nobody uses that word anymore.”
“You gotta go after the young ones,” Clayton interrupts. “They’re more liable to listen to reason. Elders are more vested, more loyal. More scared to step out of line. And they don’t need the money.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “If you say this is the guy, this is the guy. Nice work.”
Holding up his hands, Clayton says, “Whoa, whoa now. I didn’t say I’d worked out any kind of deal. I’ve nailed him down, is all. Haven’t made contact. Just done the surveillance.”
“It’s the start we needed to get moving on this,” Dante says.
I grunt in agreement. But as my brothers (and brother-in-law) start discussing our new potential Bratva contact, my mind keeps drifting back to last night. To the moment when Candi admitted she’d tipped off the Brunos about our private dock, essentially taking responsibility for the warehouse fire there. Even though Donno had copped to it when I interrogated him…
But maybe Bruno had been doubly emboldened to act when he received that same intel from two different sources. There’s no way to know for sure if the arson would have happened if she hadn’t played the good little mole—but regardless, her betrayal is weighing heavily on me.
Jesus Christ, I really went to bat for Candi when my brothers first blamed the fire on her, not because I was sure she hadn’t been involved, but as an act of good faith. Yes, I was well aware that it could have been her who betrayed us, but I didn’t want to believe it. So I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I’d defended her with passion and fire, with everything in me. That’s why it felt like such a fucking knife in the back when she told me to my face last night that shehaddone it. Especially since my lingering suspicions about her involvement had all but disappeared after Donno’s confession.
I had just begun totrusther. Just begun to let my guard down the smallest bit. In my mind, I had evenforgivenher for working for my family’s enemies. I’d been ready to leave behind all the bad blood between me and Candi, see what the future might have in store for us. But she’d been lying to me all along. And despite my reservations, despite the fact that I knew better, I’d let her get away with it. Right under my nose. God, I’m an idiot.
