Page 42 of Bratva Knight

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

He scowled. “I know how to spot a tail.”

“I’m sure you do.” I dropped just enough condescension into my voice to piss him off. It worked, his jaw clenching. “Have you ever met Franco?”

“No,” he answered immediately without a single shred of hesitation. But the slight shift in his posture when I asked the question made me suspicious.

“Never? Not once?”

“Are you deaf, as well as stupid? I said no.”

Touchy, touchy.

“Do you believe the rumours going around that there’s a rat in the Cosa Nostra?”

“I haven’t heard any rumours, and even if I did, I wouldn’t believe them. You’d have to be a fucking idiot to betray them.”

“What about Diego? He stole over $50,000, then cut and ran.”

“That right there is the perfect example. You heard about what they did to his body?”

Oh, yeah, I’d heard alright. Anyone even remotely connected to the life had heard what happened. Diego was one of the men who tried to rape Illayana when Nero, the former Don of the Chicago Outift and Franco’s brother, had kidnapped her. She killed him before he got the chance, so you’d think that’s where his punishment would have ended. But it didn’t. Not by a long shot.

Arturo skinned him. He sliced the flesh right from his bones from head-to-toe. Then, he cut out his tongue and his eyes before chopping off his head and leaving the pieces right in the middle of Central Park, artistically arranged like some serial killer madman.

After his body was found, Arturo leaked an anonymous story to the press, saying he’d been killed as retaliation for betraying the wrong people. Of course, no one knew it’d all been done post-mortem. Only the people who were there that day knew that. Arturo wanted others to think it had been done while he was alive. It was more terrifying that way. Talk about sending a message.

“He was stupid enough to steal and he got what he deserved.” Rocco squared his shoulders, his chest puffing out with what I was sure was pride. “Four generations of Bianchi men have worked for the De Luca family. I’d give my life for them. I’d kill for them. I’d doanythingthey ask of me, even sit here and have my honor questioned by a woman who has no business being involved in this life. Arturo is my Don. He pays my wages, takes care of me and my family. He treats us with respect, despite the stain of my younger sister. If he hadn’t killed Diego, I would have done it myself, because that fucker didn’t deserve to live after betraying the Cosa Nostra.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Nikolai, my brows raised slightly. Rocco spoke with such passion, such devotion to Arturo and his family. I found it hard to believe he would ever do anything wrong against them.

Nikolai shrugged, the first movement he’d made since these interviews began. He’d done quite well with not interfering, which was a shock. Especially when some of the soldiers started talking shit, saying disrespectful and derogatory things. I’d expected him to step in after the first insult, but true to his word, he was letting me handle it. I appreciated it.

“Okay.” I hopped off the table, running a hand down my front to straighten my clothes. “That’s all I have for you. You can go.”

Rocco hesitated, his eyes darting to Vincenzo before moving a single muscle, as if he was searching for permission. Like me saying the words wasn’t enough for him.

You can’t kill him. You can’t kill him.

Vincenzo said nothing, an awkward silence quickly filling the room. Rocco cleared his throat and got to his feet, buttoning up his suit jacket. He bowed his head respectfully to Vincenzo in farewell and turned, preparing to leave.

“Think you’re forgetting something there, Rocco,” Vincenzo warned.

“Boss?”

He didn’t say a word, staring the man down, letting him figure out the issue for himself. With a begrudging sigh, Rocco faced me, bowing his head the slightest bit before stomping out of the room.

“He’s usually not so rude,” Vincenzo commented, frowning in thought. “Wonder what’s gotten into him.”

“The same thing that’s gotten into all the others.” Women were nothing but trophies to be paraded around in the Cosa Nostra. He didn’t feel I deserved his respect, so he didn’t want to give it. “I appreciate what you did, but I would have preferred you not to interfere.”

“I know when you asked me to stay out of it, I agreed—which, by the way, I still don’t entirely understand—but I couldn’t allow that. It took everything in me not to put him—or any of them, for that matter—in their place when they spoke to you so rudely. You’re here as a guest, conducting work for us. That entitles you to a certain level of respect.”

“Agreed,” Nikolai grunted.

I sighed, picking up my iPad. “Ordinarily, I’d agree too, but this is a different situation. Your soldiers think women have no place in business, and the only way that will change is byshowingthem exactly what we’re capable of.”

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