Page 56 of Vicious Redemption

My father’s words strike at my heart. That’s the kind of statement he might have made when I was growing up that truly earned my respect. I’ve always known him to be a diplomatic man. A man who could recognize the big picture and see what solution would work best. It’s why I trusted him when he told me that marrying Leo was the only way to protect my family and my child.

“Well put,” Leo says, and though my heart is pounding, he seems as calm as if they were discussing the weather. “Which is why I think we can agree to let go of the past and come to an accord that will suit us both.”

My father nods, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I imagine you’ll expect some concessions…”

I can hear the undercurrent of the words he’s not saying: after our betrayal.

A smirk curls the corners of Leo’s lips, and he glances around the restaurant. “Yes, perhaps we can agree that I’ll take Belladonna into my fold. I quite like the ambiance, and I hear the food is amazing.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor. Leo’s actually teasing my father. I imagine he genuinely would be happy to claim another of Piovosa’s restaurants. Still, the concession is practically a nonentity in my father’s regard. He would be a fool not to take the deal if that’s all Leo wants.

My father’s expression remains passive, his face giving away nothing. But he studies Leo with a newfound consideration. I don’t think, even in his wildest imaginings, my father would have expected such a reasonable offer.

Before he can give an answer, Belladonna’s front door swings open with force. For a split second, I fear this might be the ambush Leo assured me we would be prepared for. Because this evening has been going too well.

Then one of Leo’s men strides through it, his expression dark as his eyes focus on our table. He crosses the room with long strides, drawing the attention of other patrons in the restaurant.

When he reaches our table, he doesn’t waste time with formalities. Instead, he bends to whisper in Leo’s ear. Leo’s hand tightens around mine convulsively, sending a jolt of anxiety into my gut.

His face goes from passive to furious in an instant, and without a word of explanation, he releases my hand to rise. Leo’s man straightens at the same time, his face a mask of steely resolve.

“Leo?” I ask tentatively, my heart fluttering.

Rather than look at me, Leo steps behind my chair and pulls it out for me—while I’m still in it. “We’re leaving. Before I do something I regret.” The cold statement strikes fear in my heart, and I look up at his thunderous expression.

Stunned by the sudden shift, I rise to stand beside him. “What’s wrong?” I breathe.

Leo’s gray-green eyes look carved from granite as they focus on my father. And yet his voice is as low and steady as ever. “My father is dead.”

27

LEO

“So help me god, if you knew—if you had any hand in this—I will skin you alive and mount your head on a pike so I can display it in the town square. I’ll carve the word ‘traitor’ into every single Guerra’s forehead so people will know what you are,” I state coldly, my gaze boring into the don before me.

Then I turn and steer Tia from the restaurant as gently as I can muster. But my blood is boiling, and my hand twitches toward the gun hiding beneath my suit jacket. I’m confident that Don Guerra is tied to my father’s death somehow. He only asked us to dinner as part of his plan to kill Don Moretti. I’m sure of it.

The car is waiting for us right outside the door, and Tia climbs in without a word, her face pale and grave as I settle onto the seat beside her.

“What happened?” she breathes as the door closes behind Johnny, who slips into the third row. “Your father was getting better every day. I thought the doctor said he was out of the woods.”

“He did say that,” I growl. Riddled with fury, I turn a condemning gaze on her. “I have no doubt this is murder, Tia. And you can bet that your father did this.”

“How did he die?” she whispers, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Tia falls silent, and I can feel her eyes on me as I scowl out the front window as we race toward the hospital. My father shouldn’t have died. He was strong. He was recovering, so why would he die unless it was an act of vengeance?

And to think Don Guerra sat down to dinner with me. He looked me in the eye and gave a speech about how no one wins when death is the consequence. All the while, he was probably laughing to himself, knowing that my father would die tonight.

I could kill the bastard with my bare hands.

I likely would have if Tia weren’t sitting right there beside me. Still, I was sorely tempted to shoot him. But I couldn’t kill Don Guerra right in front of her. Not her father. Even if Tia found it in her heart to forgive me, she would never recover from that kind of trauma.

Still, the fury that rips through me turns the world red.

I’ve known grief in my life. I cried the day my mother died—and my baby brother along with her. But this is different. This is murder, plain and simple, and I will slaughter the men responsible. I don’t care if it’s Tia’s father this time.

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