Juliana squirms in her chair but finally sits resolute. I instruct Candi to roll up her friend’s sleeve and then pass over the elastic tourniquet so Candi can tie off Juliana’s upper arm and get one of her veins to pop. All the while, Juliana clenches her hands into fists, eyes glittering as if she’d love nothing more than to kill me.
The feeling is mutual, but I’m collecting her DNA first—because if it turns out that she really is my sister, I’ll have to change tactics.
Kneeling at the side of the chair, I puncture Juliana’s cephalic vein with cool efficiency, fill a vial, and withdraw the needle.
“Sorry, I don’t have any Band-Aids,” I tell her as I slip the vial into the black case. “Best to put some pressure on it.”
She doesn’t respond.
“You’ll stay here with Candi until I get the results,” I add.
“The results of what?” Juliana asks.
I glance over at Candi, who looks away. Ah. So she hasn’t told her friend what she suspects about her genealogy. Probably hasn’t had the chance yet.
Ignoring Juliana’s question, I add, “The house is heavily guarded, so it’d be in your best interest not to step outside. I’ll take your phone now.”
Candi crosses her arms. “She’ll stay here if you ask her to. No demands.”
There’s a beat of silence. Does she really expect me to back down?
Fine. What do I care? It’s merely a formality.
Pulling my gun out again, I politely ask, “Juliana Guerra, won’t you please make yourself comfortable in this house while I attend to some pressing matters?”
Juliana rolls her eyes. “I don’t actually have a choice, so fine.”
“The phone now,” I say.
“It’s in my bag. Take it. It’s a burner, anyway,” she says with a huff.
I go over to the bed and pull the phone out of her purse. Then I hold my hand out for Candi’s phone as well. I can’t have her handing it over to Juliana to call for help. Luckily, there’s no landline hooked up at the house, so I won’t have to cut any wires on my way out.
Walking toward the door, I look back at my wife one last time. She stands resolutely next to her friend, her arm draped over Juliana’s shoulder. I’m impressed by what Candi got done today. I don’t think she realizes how beautifully she played both sides. Not only that, but she benefited all of us. I got to Juliana without having to resort to violence, and soon enough we’ll all know if she’s a Bellanti. Win-win.
“I’ll see you at home,” I tell her. “But you are not to leave the grounds.”
Candi lifts her chin but doesn’t respond to me.
I feel the weight of both of their gazes on my back as I leave.
22
ARMANI
The first thingI do when I leave the B&B is get in my SUV, take a pleasant little drive, and hand off a set of four different blood samples to an associate of mine who works in a diagnostics lab downtown. He’s not a mafioso himself, but he owes me a favor. A big enough favor that he can be counted on when I need him for situations like this one. He’s both efficient and discreet.
Back at the Bellanti offices, I lock myself into my executive suite and brood. There’s no way I can concentrate on work right now. And not just because I’m waiting on the results of that blood sample, either.
It’s Candi.
What she’s done today is causing me some serious internal conflict.
Before her “rescue” of Juliana Guerra, I’d never quite been able to shake my conviction that Candi was trying to sabotage my family. Even after I confirmed my suspicions that she was a Bruno mole and confronted her—effectively ending her participation in Bruno’s spying schemes—I still considered her an enemy. Not because she was still actively passing off intel to Sergio Bruno, but by virtue of the fact that she wasn’t doing anything to help my family win this war. In fact, I was certain that my wife secretly took pleasure in watching me struggle to counter each brutal Bruno attack, and in watching the Bellanti empire suffer.
All of my assumptions changed the second I got her text this afternoon.
How can I continue doubting Candi’s loyalty when she hand-delivered Juliana to my doorstep, knowing full well that she was potentially sacrificing the closest, most valuable friendship she’s ever had? In doing so, my wife may have single-handedly stopped the most dangerous mafia alliance of all our lifetimes. Not to mention giving me a golden opportunity to get the DNA that will finally prove once and for all if this stranger really is my lost sister.
