Page 55 of Filthy Little Games

The three of us head back to the car to drop off our weapons and devices with Aldo, who will stay with the vehicle.

“If they lay a hand on me, I’m going to break it,” Dre warns.

“They won’t lay a hand on you. They’ll probably just wave a security wand over us and let us through.”

Sure enough, once we step inside the foyer, a guard does just that. Since all three of us emptied our pockets and holsters, they immediately clear us to go inside.

Gideon Marino and his brother, Zaven, are chatting up Aiden Sanna and his two sons in the front receiving room, which is…odd. Emilio is huddled up with Bowen Bertelli while his father, Weston, and adopted sister, Serafina, talk a few feet away.

All conversations stop, though, when we enter the room.

Ignoring the eyes on us, I head straight for Emilio to get this over with. Either he suspects I had something to do with Izaiah’s disappearance, or he doesn’t have a clue. Time to find out.

Bowen nods at me and then goes over to join his father and sister.

“Creed. Glad you could make it on short notice. I apologize if I stepped on your toes, but time is of the essence.” Emilio offers me his hand.

“I was sorry to hear Izaiah’s gone missing. If there’s anything I can do...”

“You can press your men at the NYPD to get off their assess and find my son!”

“Done,” I agree. “I’ve instructed my inside guy to let me know if he hears anything.” I don’t mention that I’m in the Commissioner’s pocket since he probably assumes as much. “Do the detectives have any leads yet?”

“No. I don’t know what the hell Izaiah was thinking. He never should’ve gone to Queens so late.”

“What was he doing there?”

“Between you and me, I know exactly what he was doing in that part of town.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Visiting aputtanawho lives there,” Emilio explains. “Now she’sgone, probably skipped town with whatever piece of shit helped her grab Izaiah. I think the Sannas put her up to it…” He glares over at the family. “When I find her, I’ll get the truth out of her. I need you to press Aiden. They’re probably holding Izaiah where they had Marco.”

Great, he doesn’t suspect me. But, Jesus, I think the “puttana” or “whore” he’s talking about is Zara.

“Is that what this meeting is about? Seeing if the Sannas offer up any information?”

“They want something for him. I just don’t know what yet. I had hoped to find thetroiabefore they got here tonight.”

“You got people still searching for her?” I mutter, having to grind my teeth to keep from jumping to Zara’s defense. I hate that he already suspects her and that he’s put together that she had help making Izaiah disappear.

Clearly, there’s no love lost between him and Zara. I bet Emilio is the reason that she rarely gets to see her daughter.

“Regardless of how our meeting goes, I won’t stop until I find her,” he grumbles. Then, he nods his head at someone, calling them over to us. I’m not surprised to see Saint Rovina, the second oldest son, appearing at his side. Unlike Izaiah, the thirty-something kid looks sober and carries himself well. His pinstripe suit is an odd choice, though. All he needs is a matching hat to fulfill the mobster stereotype.

“If you need to reach me, do so through Saint. He’ll be learning the ropes, but I’m sure he’ll be able to handle himself soon enough,” Emilio says.

“Sorry about your brother.” I offer Saint a handshake. He looks at my palm with disgust, but after a glare from his father, he reluctantly shakes it.

It’s clear that Saint isn’t going to have any love for my family, but I don’t really give a shit. His father is still running things for now. Until I decide if I need to take him out.

To lighten the mood, I tell them, “Dre was hoping to talk to Stella. Is she around tonight? He’s agreed to that alliance you said you wanted.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad to hear our families will finally be united,” Emilio remarks. “Stella’s around here somewhere.”

“We can postpone the wedding for however long Stella needs while we look for Izaiah.”

“No, no,” Emilio replies. “I think they should go ahead and make it official, decide on a date. It’ll be a nice distraction for my Martha. We could all use something nice to look forward to.” Which is exactly what I thought as well. Martha Rovina has non-Hodgkin lymphoma. The last I heard, her prognosis isn’t great, since this is the second time it’s returned in five years. Curing cancer is, apparently, still one of the things money and power can’t buy.

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