Page 1 of Tell Me

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BROOKS

I was going to kill Anthony Massimo.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t do anything?” I spat, shoving him against the wall of the warehouse where he’d agreed to meet me. “Your fucking family just attacked mine! Get them to stop!”

Look, I knew it was an oversimplification. The truth was, I wasn’t sure of the details. I wasn’t even sure his family had attacked mine. The facts I knew were these: The Rossi family, my adopted kin, had been under attack for weeks now. Their soldiers were being shot on the street by people that never took credit for the kills. Their warehouses had been infiltrated by spies, their biggest rackets shut down, their ships—and the goods they held—stopped in the harbor before they got into Rossi hands.

They didn’t know the reason for any of it, and that was the most frustrating part. Mafia wars usually followed a very specific format: One family decides they’re mad at another and goes after them. They don’t make any secret about it. They deliver threats and deadlines and do their best to kill everyone they can get their hands on. Which was why this didn’t make sense. The Rossis didn’t have any beef with anyone, and they hadn’t received any threats. Their biggest foes, the Brennans, were being targeted as well, and that made even less sense.

The Brennans had always battled the Rossis, and vice versa. They’d been killing each other for years. And now they weren’t. Now they were unintentional allies, not only because Joseph Rossi had married Sloane Brennan, but also because someone was targeting both families.

And here was the other truth: I knew a lot more about it than anyone else. Or at least I thought I did. Someone had attacked Michael Rossi and his paramour Penny Lane, and in doing so, they’d been caught on camera. I’d seen the footage.

I’d recognized the man following Penny.

And I’d come to the conclusion that I knew exactly who was attacking our families. Because the man I’d recognized was the same man who stood in front of me right now. Anthony Massimo, nephew of the head of the family and someone who claimed he wasn’t involved in the life. But if that was true, why had he been following a Rossi brother? It didn’t make sense. When I found him again a week ago and demanded answers, he’d told me (again) that he didn’t have anything to do with anything.

Then his family was attacked.

And then mine.

Which was why I’d cornered him here and gone after him. Because I wanted some fucking answers, and Anthony Massimo was the only one I knew who might have them.

So far, he’d been a complete disappointment.

He grabbed my shoulders and spun me, reversing our positions. I grunted and looked up, taking in the sharp cheekbones and impossibly dark eyes, which had once held me captive. The lips that had once promised me the world.

Then I forced myself to forget about what we’d had in the past, because it wasn’t going to help me right now.

“I want to know what you know, Anthony.”

“And I’m telling you, Brooks, that I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I don’t know about any hit on the Rossi boys. I don’t know anything about Dax Romano being involved. I don’t know how the Massimos would even pull that off.”

I snorted at that. “Oh I don’t know, maybe using the Carusos, the same way they’ve been doing for the last month? Because your family evidently doesn’t believe in getting their own hands dirty when they want to make war on another family.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, daring him to take that personally. Daring him to come back at me for insulting his family.

Of course, he didn’t. Because Anthony Massimo didn’t like his family any more than I did. We’d been friends since we were kids, and I could still remember the day he told me he wasn’t going to have anything to do with his family’s rackets or the killings. He’d wanted to grow up and become a musician, not a mobster, and he’d actually accomplished that.

At least sort of.

He was in fact lead singer of a rock and roll band. But he knew, and I knew, that he’d managed it only because his uncle had authorized it. Ercole Massimo had also ensured that musician or not, Anthony would continue working for the family. He’d killed Anthony’s father—Ercole’s little brother—and threatening both his mother and sister.

So although Anthony looked like he’d escaped from the family, the truth was, he was stuck. Just like the rest of them.

And that meant he had to know something.

“What’s going on, Anthony?” I asked, striving for a more reasonable tone. “Tell me what you know. Please.”

Look, I didn’t go for the whole play-innocent-to-get-your-way thing. That was Sloane, and lately, Penny. It had never been my style.

But I was willing to try it on if it got me answers.

Anthony dropped his forehead to mine, though, and closed his eyes. “I don’t know anything more than I did a week ago, Brooks. I’m not a soldier, and I’m not high enough in the family to be privy to any of the decisions. My uncle hasn’t told me anything. Nothing that would help you.”

“You can’t stop what’s happening, can you?”

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