Page 28 of Ink

“You don’t recognize a signature?”

“No.”

“Capisco. Text me photos, but I’ll send a soldier to collect it for closer examination,” he offered. “If they’re local, Domenico might know of them.”

Domenico DeAngelis had been my first thought as well. He was one of The Family’s best assassins.

“Bene. Apprezzo il tuo aiuto,” I murmured, thanking him for his help.

“Sicuramente. I’ll be in touch.”

After hanging up, I filled in Rebel and Kevlar, then returned to the clinic exam room.

Wizard watched me curiously, and I thought about his earlier comment. Club business versus what Annika should be allowed to know.

“Think it’s a pro,” I grunted. “Rafa is on it.”

“The Family?” he asked, his brow shooting up.

I nodded sharply. “Whatever it takes.”

He glanced at my girl before meeting my eyes again. “King gave approval to tell her whatever you think she needs to know, as long as it doesn’t compromise club business. He suggested you start with The Family.”

“Your family?” Annika asked.

Wizard clammed up and jumped to his feet. “Gonna leave you two to talk.” He walked to the door, but he slowed as he passed me and murmured, “If she can handle club life, she can handle knowing about your blood ties.”

He was right, but that didn’t make me feel a fuck of a lot better about telling my sweet, innocent Annika that her man was technically a member of The DeLuca Crime Family.

“You need to rest,dolcezza.” I held out my hand, and she grabbed it, allowing me to help her to her feet. “Let’s go back to the room, and we’ll talk.”

She frowned but didn’t say anything as we walked back to my quarters.

I waited until I was seated on the couch with Annika in my lap before starting, “You know I live my life in the gray area. My hands are dirtier than you’ll ever know the full extent of. And there will be many times when I can’t share things with you.”

Annika smiled softly, then laid her head on my shoulder and slipped her arms around my torso. “I know. But I also know what a good man you are.”

She gave me a gentle hug, and I sent up a prayer to Santa Rita da Cascia that knowing about my connection to The Family wouldn’t tip the scales in the wrong direction.

“You know my last name is DeLuca. Like the crime family.”

“I already assumed you were distantly related or something like that,” she replied, raising her head so we were face-to-face.

“Not distantly,dolcezza. The boss, Nic DeLuca, is my cousin. His father, mine, and Rafa’s—the underboss here in the south—were brothers. I was born and raised in New York until I was ten.”

“You’re a member of the Mafia?” she clarified with a double blink.

“No, I’m a member of the Hounds of Hellfire. But I have blood ties to the Mafia.” I went on to give her a brief summary of my background, my connections to the DeLucas, as well as my history with the Silver Saints and now the Hounds.

To my relief, she listened quietly, seeming to simply absorb the knowledge rather than recoil from it.

When I was finished, she chewed on her lip for a moment, then asked, “What you said about a pro? You meant a hitman?”

I nodded.

“And you thought it was more likely that your cousin would be able to identify a hired killer than the MC?”

I nodded again.

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