Page 42 of His to Hold

“Antonio.” He looks over at Matteo and nods to acknowledge his presence before turning his attention to my mother. “Mrs. Volante.”

“I’ll get straight to the point.” Winters usually does. It’s one thing I appreciate about him. “Do you know a Gino di Santo?”

The name is familiar. I glance over at Matteo. He’s frowning as if trying to recall where he’s heard the name before. Mamma is the first to speak, however.

“The chef from Roma?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Winters replies. “We believe Mr. Volante, uh, Leo Volante, fired him recently.”

The man worked for us since my father’s time, but he was getting sloppy, making mistakes in the kitchen that were driving our customers away. Leo let him go with a generous severance package.

“Yeah, and what the fuck’s that got to do with anything?” Matteo demands.

“Well, Mr. di Santo was found dead this morning, a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

Matteo obviously hears an accusation where there wasn’t one. “Well, none of us did it. We were here.”

My mother tuts loudly. “He said self-inflicted, Matteo.”

If she hadn’t married my father and had six kids, my mother would have made a pretty decent lawyer. She doesn’t miss much, which is why I lied to her about where I’ve been the last couple of days. It wouldn’t actually surprise me if she knows I was with Isabella and is just choosing not to call me on my bullshit.

“Anyway,” Winters continues, “he left a note saying he was sorry he hurt the wrong brother.”

“You’re saying this di Santo shot Gio.”

“Looks that way. He was making noises about getting revenge. His intended target was obviously Leo.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Winters nods. “Just a tragic case of mistaken identity.”

My mother rises from her chair, shoulders pulled back, head held high. “First of all, Detective, no tragedy has occurred here since my son still lives. Second of all, if it was a tragedy, it would be no less so if this lunatic had hit the intended target.”

“Of course.” Winters turns an unappealing shade of purple as he withers in the face of my mother’s stern gaze. “My apologies, Mrs. Volante.”

She smiles tightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a breath of fresh air.”

“Take a guard with you,” I call out after her as she glides from the room. She’ll do as I ask. My mother is as security conscious as the rest of us.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

I hold a hand up to stop Winters before his groveling becomes unbearable. He’s suffered enough with my mother shriveling his balls for one misspoken word.

“Is there anything else?”

Winters shakes his head.

“Then don’t let us detain you.”

The detective doesn’t hang around. I watch him scurry from the room and then turn to Matteo.

“You’d better get ahold of Leo.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. If he hurt Vinnie…”

He lets that thought hang in the air. If Leo used force to try to get his wife to admit she was involved in a plot to kill one of us, he’ll regret it. When he finds out she’s innocent, he’ll make damned sure we’re sorry for it, too.

“Just call him. I’m going to check on Mamma.”

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