Page 37 of Brutal Legacy

I had to keep a clear head and remember that I was completely alone with a man who was more machine than flesh and blood. He was taking me somewhere, and I needed to be ready to run, whatever chance I got. If only I could figure out why this was happening.

I had to focus on what I knew… there were threads here, I just needed to weave them together. I lay on my bed and watched the evening sun move across the ceiling, my mind working furiously over the past.

I had nothing else to do, after all.

12

ELIO

Not a single sound came from Georgia’s bedroom, if you could call it that. It was smaller than the walk-in closet at my penthouse in Atlantic City.

I paced the living room-cum-kitchen, which took me about five strides. A fucking rustle from somewhere near the fridge had my senses snapping to attention. I pulled a knife from my pocket, and when something moved, I threw it with deadly precision. It hit the rat squarely in the side, and the clueless thing wriggled against the wall for a few seconds before dying.Shit.It bothered me that the kitchen was rat-infested. It bothered me that the fucking door wasn’t great, and I could hear the neighbors talking upstairs. It all bothered me.

Most of all, it bothered me that this place smelled like her.

I needed air.

I needed to find out what the situation was with the Ravellis. That guy had recognized me on sight alone. Usually, my eyes were my most distinctive feature, and I was used to wearingbrown contacts to conceal them when it suited me, but that hadn’t helped today.

Georgia had fucking recognized me.Because you called her little mouse.Right, I’d fucked up first. Being around her, I was slipping up like I hadn’t in years. For the past decade I’d formed a hard shell of ice to stay behind, but an hour in Georgia Bellisario’s company, and there were visible cracks.

The contacts had thrown her. She was doubting herself. Three months together followed by fourteen years of separation. Her logical mind was telling her that it was impossible. I didn’t look like the lanky twenty-year-old who had been all knobby knees, easy smiles, and clean-shaven cheeks. If I hadn’t slipped with the nickname, she’d never have voiced her suspicions. I had to be more careful.

If I were smart, I would get her to New Jersey and married to Jimmy as quickly as possible. That was what had to happen. Those were Renato’s orders, and the capo’s orders were to be followed. That was my forte.

I pulled out my cell and called across the country.

“What’s up? Kidnapped any snitches’ daughters yet?”

“Hello to you, too, Giada.”

“Hello. How’s it going? Did you find her?” Giada was the little sister who’d been taken away by the state when I’d been too young and poor to do anything about it. It had taken me years to get Renato to step in and get her moved to the De Sanctis estate.

“Hmm, I found her. Now, I need to find a way to get her home without getting us both killed. The Ravellis are already here. I need you to check if it’s just the one or more.”

“On it. So, how is she? The traitor’s daughter?” The sound of keys clacking in the background floated to me.

“She’s — what you’d expect.” It was a lie. She wasn’t what I’d expected. Humbled, living in poverty, defiant even in the face of death.

“So, she ran kicking and screaming from coming with you?” Giada teased.

“She tried.”

“Let me guess, she didn’t get far.”

“They never do,” I muttered, though this was my first time kidnapping a woman, and I planned for it to be my last. My usual remit was protecting my capo with my life, working on strategy, and keeping the made men in line.

Giada hummed while she worked. “Shit. You feel like driving cross-country?”

“Pass. Too many opportunities for her to run away.”

“Hmm, and you’re sure there’s no other way to make sure Prosecutor Bellisario keeps his mouth shut about us and blabs about the Ravellis instead? I’m not a fan of the ol’ kidnapped bride scenario, especially not when it involves Jimmy De Luca. The man’s breath can clear a room in less than five seconds,” Giada complained.

“It’s not our problem.” I sighed. The very thought of Jimmy De Luca and his thieving fingers touching Georgia pissed me off.

“Maybe it should be… You do remember that you are also single. You could do worse than a nice Italian woman?—”

“I’d rather die than be the one to marry Georgia.”

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