Page 57 of Mercy in Betrayal

Ivan has picked up a large knife and is cutting a hole in the man’s chest cavity. He does it with a smile. I’m not sure if it’s my question or the fact he’s enjoying himself.

“I’ve clearly spent too much time with you, Scarpetta. One of my businesses is immigration. More subtle than what your families do, but profitable all the same.” He twists the knife and drags it down, making the hole bigger.

“Families are willing to pay tens of thousands of dollars for passage and papers. This man worked for me. He was taking money and then not fulfilling his promises.” He leans in on the knife as he widens the hole further. I want to ask him to stop, but that’s exactly what I think Ivan hopes for, so I hold my tongue.

“Now, we are businessmen, are we not? Our reputations are precious to us. If word got around that Ivan Romanov’s business takes money and does not deliver a service, where would I be?”

I nod, unspeaking, not wanting to inhale any more of the awful stench in the room. I keep breathing through my nose.

“So, I am sending pieces of this man to my other employees to remind them of the consequences of cheating me.”

Ivan has always flown under the radar; most of the families don’t know what exactly the Romanovs do for their riches. So, I’m shocked to see how he manages things. The way he operates is the way the Italian mafia would have operated decades ago before it became more difficult to get away with such acts.

He drops the knife next to the bloody saw and picks up a pair of pliers. He reaches into the man’s chest cavity, and a moment later I hear a bone snap. The sound is loud in the room as he starts breaking each of the man’s ribs.

Ivan is being reckless.

“Now, Scarpetta, I have given you information. You must give me information in return.” He mimics my use of surname, moving us from friends to businessmen.

He’s telling me our little chat and my small insight into the running of his business is over. A part of me is relieved.

“You called me here,” I remind him. He is the one, after all, who set up this meeting. He needs to get to the point.

“Yes, I did. I must ask you: what did Sal Fioretti’s man say to you at the wedding?”

Kael Gallagher had been flapping his jaws that night, and I’m not surprised that our absence didn’t go unnoticed, or how I was when I returned to the wedding venue—especially not by Ivan.

Ivan tended to watch more closely than all the other families. While all the families were busy plotting and screwing each other over, Ivan always remained silent and outside the conflicts. The fact that this one conflict had really piqued his interest was…interesting. I could use that, but the fact that I had gotten this far with Ivan was significant. Maybe letting him in would grant me something with him in the future.

“Kael was drunk and shared some interesting information with me. Apparently Luca Marzano killed my brother in the Pits. Not only did he hide it from me, but he married my fucking sister. I couldn’t kill the fucker, though, because he also told me that Azrael was present.”

Ivan lets out a heavy sigh and drops the pliers onto the table. He leans back against it, hands on the edge behind him.

“You mean to do something about this?”

I nod. “Wouldn’t you? Francis was Carina’s twin. She would never have married Luca if she had known.” Since the wedding, I have gone over and over the facts before me and come to the conclusion that Carina couldn’t have known. She adored Francis.

Straightening, Ivan wipes his hands on the bottom of the apron where there is less blood. He’s almost thoughtful in his actions. “Luca and Francis were young when this happened, yes?”

That makes no fucking difference, but I answer. “Yes.”

“It sounds to me that Luca Marzano is not the man you need to kill.”

I bite back a bitter laugh. “Who else would it be?”

Ivan looks at the body on the table. I don't follow his line of sight. I’ve honestly seen enough. When his gaze meets mine, he shakes his head.

“You Italians are so hotblooded. You get angry and want to fight instead of thinking things through. No, I take that back. Damon Papparado was not so easily moved.”

I don’t like the games that Ivan’s playing, but he clearly knows more than I do. I take a step toward him.

“Speak plainly, Romanov.”

Ivan locks eyes with me, and a deadly glint enters them, reminding me how dangerous this man is. Every Five Family leader is dangerous, but there is something primal and savage about the way Ivan looks at me. I refuse to look away. I won’t. I can’t show weakness in front of a man like this.

After staring at each other for a long stretch of time, Ivan smirks. Almost like he’s impressed. I don’t need his fucking approval. I need answers.

Ivan speaks. “You’re shortsighted, my friend. Luca and Francis were children, victims of whoever put them in the Pits. No one was ever held responsible for Francis’s death, so my guess is that their old men put them there.”

---