Page 71 of Consumed By the Mafia

Their eyes clashed for a moment and her nerves spiked again. He was sitting less than two feet from her—close enough that she could smell him—but she was no fool. Their show of allegiance was exactly that. A show. He was still testing her, gauging her worth. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t at least considering leaving her as dead as Silva when this interrogation was done.

“I do have a question for him.” The Dragon’s stare shifted back to Silva and even from her angle Abigail could see the chill in the glare. “Who told you about my son?”

Abigail held as much of the confusion off her face as she could and instead watched a similar feeling cross Silva’s eyes as a heavy silence consumed the room.

Silva’s chest expanded. For the first time, he cut a glare in Ryoma’s direction. Then he sighed as if relenting to something, shoulders drooping, and said, “A friend of mine at the hospital passed along the news.”

“That’s not something they do,” the Dragon said, voice tight. Controlled.

Abigail watched the other man shift, pulling his arms as much into his lap as he could. She thought she saw a bead of sweat roll down his face.If he’s nervous about this, we might be done by noon.

“Obviously I knew your wife was due soon,” Silva said, not daring to look up. “I … had it on good authority which hospital you were planning to go to, so I blackmailed a couple of the nurses in the maternity ward.”

Abigail’s eyes widened. That was obviously an over-simplified answer, and even that was appalling.

The hand the Dragon had rested on the table closed into a tight fist. “You expect me to believe you blackmailed hardworking nurses merely to learn when my son was born?”

Realization dawned and Abigail almost gasped.He didn’t.

Silva licked his lips. “It’s not like they were all thatinnocent, you know—”

“That’s not his point,” Abigail said sharply. She shouldn’t have, but the implication already hanging in the room unsettled her too much to keep her mouth shut.

Silva scowled at her briefly, then dropped his gaze altogether and said, “The plan was for me to pass along that information as soon as I learned it.”

Abigail wasn’t even bothered by the next chill that swept through the room when the Dragon growled again. If he’d had any calmer reaction, she might have questioned everything she thought she was coming to learn about him and his family.

“Towhom?”

The man who’d as good as confessed to participating in a trap designed to murder a newborn and his exhausted mother had the gall to lift pleading eyes up to her. “Promise me, dammit!”

Abigail dug her fingers into her own arms to keep herself still. She wanted to slam his face into the table until something broke. “You want protection because you blackmailed some nurses so you could have the privilege of playing messenger? Give us more, Silva. I haven’t even heard enough for a warrant.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” the Dragon said, voice hard. “If you don’t make yourself useful to them, Agent Fitzgerald will hand you over to me. And I promise you, whatever my brother threatened you with, you won’t survive to see it.”

Silva made a jerkish movement as if trying to gesture in De Salvo’s direction with his shoulder. “See? He’s threatening me! That psycho fucker just threatened me, right in front of you!”

Abigail narrowed her eyes at him. “If hehadn’tthreatened you after you implied a threat to his newborn son, Iwould be much more concerned.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, folding her hands together on the table. “Now, get talking. Unless you don’t actually want that protection.”

Still, Silva hesitated. Sweat rolled down his skin and his chest heaved once more as his eyes darted between them, uncertainty blatant on his face.

“Who are you more afraid of, Rodrigo?”

Silva rested his manacled hands again on the table, fingers threaded together and fists shaking visibly. “Coughlan,” he whispered.

Abigail blinked and glanced over at her companions.

Ryoma’s brow had dipped but he hadn’t otherwise moved as far as she could tell.

Dante still looked deadly, like his projected patience was a lie they could all see through and he didn’t care.

Abigail drew a breath and faced forward. “You’re more afraid of Brendan Coughlan?”

Silva gave a sharp shake of his head. “No.” His brow twitched. “Fuck. Yes, I might be.” He cleared his throat. “I meant, Coughlan is the one I was supposed to call … with the news.”

“You motherfucking snake,” Dante said with a low snarl.

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