Page 67 of Assistant to the Mafia

He brushed a chaste kiss to her lips, then disappeared back into the SUV.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Romeo said as his cousin strode into the forward-most room.

Cris inclined his head. “Sounded like a special occasion. Our guest in back?”

“He is.”

“You want in?”

“I do.” Romeo didn’t trust himself not to take one look at the fucker and blow his brain out the back of his head, but there was no way in hell he was passing up the opportunity to hear first-hand what the bastard had to say. So he hoped with Cris present, and in charge of the conversation itself, he might find the necessary self-control.

Cris took the hint and led the way down the hall, unassuming duffel slung over one shoulder. “How’s Grace?”

“Bruised and bleeding.” She wasn’t nearly as beaten up as she’d been when he’d found her at the hospital, he realized that, but the fact that she’d been endangered again at all pissed him off.

“And Lucy?”

“Scared.” None of them had been expecting the first gunshot. Even he had startled.

Cris grunted and toed the door open without breaking stride. He nodded to Mo, who was standing watch over Tracey, then moved to the center of the room and dropped his bag to the floor. He let it fall with a heavy, ominous ka-thunk, the duffel fabric shifting with the settling of items inside. “I’ll give you this, Filip. You’re good at covering your tracks. They teach you that in boot camp? Or was it something you picked up as an extra-curricular after you served?”

Romeo hung back, glaring silently at the man bound by chains that were wrapped around his wrists and ankles and anchored to a sturdy pillar. Filip’s arms were bent backward, further restricting his options, and blood already seeped through the half-assed bandage job that had been done where Romeo had shot him. What a shame. It wasn’t a wound he’d bleed out from, anyway. Romeo had been careful to make sure of that.

Tracey curled his lips, glare focused on the man in front of him. “Go t’ Hell.”

“Original.” Cris dropped into a crouch, somehow making himself look larger as he loomed over the other man, and his voice lowered dangerously. “I’ll get right to it. You’re going to tell us everything, Filip. You’re going to tell us about your connection to the Ink Blots, and why you went after an innocent woman—why you wanted her bad enough to go after her three different times. And if you’re real cooperative, my cousin here will kill you quick. Painless.”

Tracey’s eyes flicked in Romeo’s direction and something like a smirk teased his lips. “I ain’t tellin’ ya shit. I already won.”

Romeo’s hands twitched so he folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching for his gun. He couldn’t wait to wipe that look off the fucker’s face. “How do you figure?”

Tracey had the gall to chuckle. “Pretentious bitch’s perfect life is over. And all those nightmares she’s gonna keep havin’? I’ll be front-and-center. Even if you motherfuckers kill me, your woman will still see me. All the goddamn time. Nothin’ ya can do to stop it.”

Cris rocked to his feet as Romeo ground his teeth. “Your accent’s shit, Filip,” Cris said. “I wonder how fast it disappears when you don’t have the energy to think about it.” He walked back to his bag and started pulling out tools. He laid down a row of differently sized blades, each intimidating in their own right, followed by a set of hammers. Then he reached inside again and pulled out a handheld bone saw.

“That one,” Romeo said. The words were out of his mouth impulsively, but he embraced the instinct.

Cris stood again and flashed him a grin. “You want the honors?”

“If I do it, I’ll go for his fucking throat. We still need information from him.”

Cris nodded.

“Do your worst, cocksuckers,” Tracey said. “I knew I was dancin’ with death when I took this job.”

Cris started toward Tracey again, saw in hand. “See? We’re already getting somewhere. Now we have confirmation that it is a job.” He crouched down, grabbed hold of Tracey’s restrained legs, and hauled them around in a way that forced the other man onto his back. “Now, we’ll start slow. Toes first. Gives you plenty of time to think and talk. You tell me everything you can about what I want to know, maybe I don’t amputate all your favorite body parts.”

“Ya think I can’t kick ya in the fuckin’ fa—” Tracey’s snarled threat became an inarticulate, piercing scream when Cristiano pressed the saw blade against his nearest big toe and started cutting. His back bowed and he attempted to flail, but laying on his arms and with his legs chained, there wasn’t much he could do other than scream and bleed.

Cris released the foot after his chosen toe rolled free, but he did not set down the saw. “Now, Filip. Let’s try this again.”

Tracey twisted his shoulders to the side and vomited. He coughed once more, then lay back, seemingly staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck. Brendan said you motherfuckers were monsters.”

Romeo’s eyes widened.

Cris growled low. “What the fuck did you say?”

Tracey chuckled like he’d won something. “Go ahead an’ kill me. I knew it was a risk. Brendan’ll make it right. He’ll make everything right.”

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