Page 46 of Doll Face

“Look at that,” Matteo ordered, pointing to the notebook.

Rocco picked it up and leafed through it. In moments, a scowl had appeared on his face and he went back to the beginning to read all the notations.

“Reynolds was Macy’s best friend,” Matteo said. “Only his real name was Thomas Reynard and he somehow infiltrated our house. Discovered our secrets. He seemed to think it wasn’t the Iannuzzi who killed her.”

“Then who did?” Rocco asked, frowning. His gaze never strayed from the book.

“Us,” Matteo replied.

That pulled Rocco’s gaze upward. “Us?”

Matteo nodded. “My father and myself.”

“What the hell? Didn’t he know you loved her?”

“Love,” he corrected automatically.

“Still?” Rocco asked quietly.

“Always.” Matteo ran a hand through his hair. “I have to talk to the head of the Iannuzzi family.”

“No fucking way,” Rocco bit out. “They’ll kill you instantly.”

He knew this. Matteo had waged a war against them for three years. If he’d been mistaken, he had no idea how to right that wrong.

“Broker me a meeting,” he told Rocco. “Tell them I won’t have any weapons on me. Tell them I think… I don’t know what to think. First thing first, I have to know if they killed Macy or not.”

Rocco gave a nod of acknowledgement.

****

Late that night, Matteo and Rocco parked in a very undesirable part of Chicago. The small strip of territory was a buffer between the two famiglias. The demilitarized zone, for lack of a better description. Without waiting for Rocco, he exited the car and held up his hands. Only then did some soldiers come out, guns drawn and pointed at him.

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?”

The head of the Iannuzzi house, Fabricio Iannuzzi, walked closer. He was a little shorter than Matteo. A little older and a lot more rotund, but just as deadly as him or Rocco.

“I’ve discovered some information that I need clarification on,” he called out.

Fabricio cocked his head. “Information? You’re a monster. A butcher.”

“So are you,” Matteo told him. “I’m here to ask about Macy Moore.”

A frown creased Fabricio’s forehead, causing the lines there to deepen. “Who?”

Unease slithered down Matteo spine. “Macy Moore.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Fabricio snorted.

“Did you kill her?”

Fabricio stared at him unblinking. “I’ve killed a lot of people. When was this hit done?”

“Three years ago,” Matteo answered. “I have a picture on my phone.”

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