I bump her nose. “And I have you to thank.”
My hand finds its way around the slope of her hip, pulling her closer. I try to ignore the strange ache behind my ribs that stirs whenever I’m near her.
“You’re not so scary when you’re relaxed,” she says.
“I don’t scare you.”
“Damn right.” Her eyes drift over my shoulder. “Ooh, olives!”
Bianca skips toward a vendor who grins back with all his remaining teeth. She points to Castelvetrano olives and claps when the older man spears a couple with a toothpick.
“Didn’t expect to run into her so quickly. Or you.”
I reach for my gun at Tino’s voice.
“Relax, Bennici,” he says with a short laugh. His eyes are on Bianca, collecting enough free samples to feed us for days. “B is more beautiful outside of Eden.”
“Keep her fucking name out of your mouth,” I sneer.
The asshole grins. He steps closer, the top of his suit barely reaching my chin. “I don’t mind sharing to keep the peace. Wouldn’t want her getting hurt in a war.”
The safety is off my gun.
“You have a weakness.”
I steal a glance at Bianca still talking about olives. “Unless you want to get mailed back to your father in pieces, I suggest you go.” My warning is low.
Tino cocks his head to the side. “Always arrogant, even when you’re outnumbered.”
Men in suits appear out of the corner of my eye. The Fera O’Luni is a crowded market with tourists shopping for food and souvenirs. It’s about to be a burial site.
One tap of my watch sends drones from undisclosed rooftops into the air. Tino’s smile falls at my security flying above colorful umbrellas strung between buildings.
He wants to rush me but won’t. His jaw works before he motions to his men to back off.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Junior,” I chide. “Daddy won’t save you.”
I re-holster my gun when Tino disappears into the crowd and send a message to Andrea and Luiggi to meet later.
“Was that Gus?” Bianca squints in the direction that Tino left.
I take her bag of olives to add to the others. “You didn’t tell me you two met at Eden.”
“You told me to speak to the women about Diana,” she says, eyes darting across the market. “Who is he?”
“Tino Messina. The Preda don’s youngest son,” I say.
Bianca stills. Her eyes balloon, but she keeps her voice low. “Don like mafia? The big one?”
I nod.
“I knew something looked off with him! Acting like I was on the menu,” she mutters.
What?
“Put the gun away,” Bianca hisses when I reach inside my suit jacket. “Should I be worried?”
Tino is young and dumb, but he’s not stupid. Why he’s in my territory requires both an answer and a response. He can catch a bullet either way.
