Page 61 of Unhinged Little Angel

It’s impossible to hear Declan’s words on the other end of the phone, but the deep murmur of his tone almost sounds… flirtatious? Lorenzo clears his throat and his usually carefully blank expression tightens into a scowl.

“Of course we won’t be alone. This isn’t a game, Fitzpatrick. Be here in an hour or I’ll start considering alternative ways to resolve things myself.”

Again, I can’t hear Declan’s response, but it almost sounds like he meows before they both hang up.

“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” I whisper to Salvatore.

“We’re all wondering, but none of us is brave enough or suicidal enough to ask.” His lips twitch and he drags my chair closer to his, then puts his hand back where it belongs, right on the nape of my neck.

Lorenzo tucks his phone away and starts giving orders. Alessio is sent to wait at the door to escort them in when they arrive, Xaviaro is told to go get Antonio, and Salvatore starts rearranging things to make room for Declan and his men to arrive.

“Did you think being in the Mafia would be a lot more shooting and a lot less negotiating, or was that just me?” I mutter to Sparrow.

He snorts a laugh in agreement.

Right on schedule, an hour later, Alessio leads three men over to join us. I don’t know why I expected them to be dressed in high-end suits the way the Morettis always seem to be, but clearly the Fitzpatricks aren’t as bothered about their wardrobes. The ginger with a cocky smile, crooked nose, and a mass of freckles is wearing a green hoodie with a jean vest over it, a pair of jeans that are molded to his thighs, and boots that clomp with every step he takes through the mostly silent club.

I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or annoyed that neither of the two men with him match the photos I found of Cian. One of them has dark hair, green eyes, and a bored sort of scowl on his face. And the other… shit he’s basically a carbon copy of the first one. So either they’re twins or Declan is going old schoolSith style, cloning an army of henchmen instead of bothering to recruit.

“Kitten,” Declan purrs, his eyes focused solely on Lorenzo as if none of the rest of us are even in the room. “And here I was starting to get a complex that I’m always the one calling you.”

Lorenzo’s jaw ticks and he gestures to the chair across from his. The rest of our seats have been removed, leaving us to stand behind Enzo while he’s in full boss mode. Declan pulls out his chair and kicks his feet up onto the table, crossing them at the ankle.

“I don’t know how closely you watch your books, Fitzpatrick, but we’ve found a bit of a discrepancy on our end,” Lorenzo explains, keeping his tone even and unemotional.

Declan frowns, his thick eyebrows pulling together, and cocks his head.

“Come on Kitten, I know you didn’t call me here to accuse me of stealing from you.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Lorenzo says.

SALVATORE

It takes everything in me not to leap across the table, grab the front of Declan’s shirt, and demand to know where the fuck his brother gets off attacking my husband. Normally, I’m totally on board with Lorenzo’s approach to problems, but this is one time I think Dante might be onto something. Shoot first and negotiate later. But it’s not my call, so I stand behind Lorenzo,literally, and let him lay out what we know… or at least the version of it he decided would make this all go as smoothly as possible.

“Sparrow, why don’t you tell Xaviaro to bring Antonio out,” Lorenzo says before turning his attention back to Declan, who’s finally dropped the flirting routine now it’s clear that something serious is going on. “I could bore you with details all day,Fitzpatrick, but here’s the bottom line. Some opportunistic parasites have been whispering in your brother’s ear.”

Declan bristles. “What do you know about my brother?”

“Enough,” Lorenzo says, leveling Declan with a look that deepens the Irish boss’s frown. “And here’s one of those parasites now.”

I look over to see Xaviaro and Sparrow pushing a bound and disheveled Antonio forward. He stumbles as he takes in the scene in front of him—Lorenzo and Declan seated at the table together. Antonio’s eyes widen and he tries to back up, but Xaviaro is right there, shoving him forward one step after another.

Declan looks Antonio up and down with pure boredom, as if Lorenzo is showing off a new piece of furniture instead of a rat. Antonio’s eyes land on Dante beside me, I expect to see pleading, a final, desperate bid for someone here to take mercy on him. But instead they’re filled with disgust and loathing. My husband bristles and I yank him closer to me, instinctively reaching for my pistol.

“Relax, Salvatore,” Lorenzo mutters.

I grind my teeth and clench my hand into a fist to hold myself back from ending Antonio before his next breath.

“Clearly one of yours,” Declan says. “If he’s been conspiring with Cian, how do I know you didn’t put him up to it?”

Lorenzo scoffs and tilts his head towards me. “Go ahead then, Sal, show Declan here how we handle rats.”

“Oh, I’m a fucking rat because I’m sick of seeing this organization run by a bunch of fucking fa—” Xaviaro slams his fist into the side of Antonio’s head before he can finish the insult.

“I fucking hate that word,” Xav grumbles.

Antonio stumbles sideways from the blow, and Sparrow grabs him by the collar to yank him upright again. I reach into my jacket and pull out my pistol, offering it to Dante.

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