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Desire, always, even in the middle of murdering a man very slowly.

“Where is my brother?” I asked as Joey’s clothes burned against his body, the flames eating through the cotton until they reached skin and then started to bite away large ashy portions of flesh.

“The Sicilians have him!” he shouted desperately, spit flying, body shaking.

I took the bucket of ice water Cesare had retrieved and threw it at Joey, dousing the flames but instantly making him shiver.

His body was going into shock, too much damage to endure.

I nodded at Ciro, who stepped forward with a crinkly silver emergency blanket to wrap around Joey’s shoulders while Cesare rolled an IV drip close, inserting the butterfly needle into the tortured man’s thinned veins with the ease of habitual practice.

It wouldn’t do to let the man die before his time.

“I don’t think they do,” I murmured to the traitor, staring into a face that women had once called beautiful. “So, if it’s not the Russians and it’s not the Sicilians, who are you going to blame it on next, hmm?” He tried to talk through chattering teeth. “Hush, hush. This is how it’s going to work, Joseph. You don’t have to give up your masters. I know what it’s like to be collared and leashed. But you are going to tell me where they’re keeping Dario. If you do, I won’t kill you.”

Joey moaned pitifully. “Either way, I’m dead. You or them.”

“Or I can help you if you help me. A mutual back-scratching. You tell me where they’re keeping my brother, and I’ll smuggle you out of Chicago. How does a new life in the Canary Islands sound, hmm?”

The silence that followed was punctured only by Joey’s wet, gasping breaths and the clink of his teeth chattering.

“It’s the Sicilians,” he said suddenly, slumping against the chain as if his strings had been cut. Bloody tears and trails of snot fell off his face to the cement floor with a loud trio of splats. “N-not Felipe and them. Some new bodies. They offered me two mil to kill you.”

“Cash or wire?” I pressed.

“Cash, delivered by a pizza guy. Half before, half after.”

I snorted. “They know where you live. That money is already gone along with anything else they could salvage from your house. You’re right, they were going to kill you. Whether or not the job was done. Pizza guy shows up with the last payment, shoots you in the fucking face, and stages a break-in. Oops, North Side of Chicago can be dangerous.”

Joey only moaned and shivered.

“So he’s in Sicily?” I asked for confirmation.

Joey sucked in a breath and coughed brutally. “Think so. Heard they got him at a place called Church of Santa Maria.”

“That’s in Palermo.” Fia’s sweet, unwavering voice came from behind me, but I didn’t dare look at her because I wasn’t finished yet.

Only when Joey was dead could I present her with my gift.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give me any names, sweet Joseph?” I asked, removing my keris blade from its holster and holding it up to the torch as I flicked on the flame, heating the wavy blade.

Joey watched me with sheer terror possessing every inch of his face. “I would, I swear to God! I just don’t know ’em. Man who emailed me called himself Tarpeia. I know it’s made up ’cause what kinda name is that?”

It was an interesting alias for a man, considering Tarpeia was a woman who famously betrayed Rome to the Sabines. I filed that incongruous detail away for later.

“Then thank you, Joseph,” I said politely as I turned off the torch and let it slip to the ground. “You’ve been so helpful.”

He licked his lips nervously. “You’re gonna get me to the Canaries, yeah?”

“Oh yes,” I promised. “I’ll get you there. Just ask for them at the pearly gates.”

“What the—but I gave you the info!” he shouted as I stepped forward with my blade held easily in my right hand.

“You also endangered my wife,” I said calmly. “You should thank me that I’m not ripping your throat out with my teeth. I intend to kiss my wife with this mouth, so I’ll do it quickly with a blade instead.”

“Wait—” he bellowed, but the sound was cut off by the sharp hiss of my blade through the air before it raced light and lethal across his throat.

A wound opened like a line of thread before cascading blood down his front.