Page 50 of Her Dark Salvation

I lifted my whiskey. “I told him I wasn’t interested,” I said and took a sip.

He swiveled back to the bar and stared into his drink, disappointment evident in the set of his jaw.

“Might be worth considering.” Luca’s words were muted with hesitation. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do Roma and Sicilia aren’t doing well. Fucking economy. But the Source racket is steady, and he’s offering you a cut.”

“We’ve been down this road before, Luca,” I said, my tone thick with warning. “I won’t tie myself financially to the Valenzanos. I’ve been running my crew my way for longer than you’ve been alive, and I’m not going to jeopardize our independence now.”

The muscles of his hard, angular jaw twitched. My involvement, or lack thereof, with the Valenzanos had been a recurring issue between us since he’d turned eighteen and decided he wanted to be made.

“It’s not just the money. It’s the alliance. The Irish are getting bolder. Expanding. Taking more business. It’s only a matter of time before they encroach on Italian territory. You want them running books in the North End? Taking business away from Vesuvio?”

Fuck, no. Especially given my suspicion that the Shaughnessys had a hand in the poor performance of my European properties. But I didn’t need Vinnie’s help to put a stop to that.

“How about real estate development? Between you and Vinnie, the Italians have city hall and the unions, but how long will that last with those Irish cops Shaughnessy has on the take?”

“Law enforcement is the exact reason we shouldn’t take this deal. You just finished telling me you saw Agent Johnson outside Terme. You think bringing Source traffic through there is going to make him less interested in what we’re doing? You want to jeopardize the safety of blood demons on top of our rackets?” I shook my head. “Our lives are dangerous enough, Luca. Your father?—”

“My father’s been dead for almost forty years, Marco. Paddy Shaughnessy put a bullet through his head. Or have you forgotten?” Hesitation fled Luca’s voice, leaving only bitterness. I chewed the end of my cigar and let him finish. “I’m tired of living in his shadow, and I don’t need you to protect me anymore. All I’m saying is this might be a good move. For the money and the alliance. We should at least consider it.”

When Luca was three or four, Tony made me promise if anything happened to him, I’d make sure Luca had options, that he wouldn’t be forced into the life me and Tony had no choice but to lead. One of the strongest men I’d ever known, the worry and pleading in Tony’s eyes when he’d made me promise had stayed with me every day since Pádraig Shaughnessy ended his immortal life.

Only two things could kill a blood demon—blood starvation and a head shot. Tony had fallen victim to the latter. I didn’t want my adopted son to meet the same fate.

“I’m going to explain this one last time, Luca. One. Last. Time. Tying ourselves financially to the Valenzanos is off the table. Laundering money for something the feds will consider prostitution, regardless of whether or not that’s what it is, is not a good look. Do you want to starve in a federal penitentiary? Do you want to put Gina through that pain? Watch her lose everything?”

“No. Of course not.” The Luca I knew and loved broke through the anger, sincerity clear in his eyes and in the softening of his face. “I want to protect her as much as you, but we can’t let this go. We can’t let them win.”

“You think the solution is making a stand against the Irish? Starting a war?” I shook my head. “I know you hate the Shaughnessys. The Lord knows I’ve tried to help you out of your anger since you were a kid, but you need to let it go. Before it consumes you. Before you end up with a bullet throughyourhead.”

His fury spread, glowing red streaks through the darkness of his eyes.

“Hey.” I clasped his shoulder and squeezed. “Nipote. Come on. Finish your drink. Let’s smoke these cigars and play some pool. Va bene? Take the edge off?” I patted him twice on the cheek.

He closed his eyes, ran a hand down his face, and pulled at his jaw. His lips parted, revealing the tips of his fangs.

“You’re right,” he said and opened his eyes. They’d returned to their normal near-black. “You’re right. I forgot myself for a moment. Just stressed about Roma and Sicilia.”

He gave me one of his fake smiles, the ones he used when dealing with the public or his endless stream of women. He was still pissed. At me, at his father, at the world. But he’d school his emotions and erect his walls and I’d let him, hoping he’d never unleash the inferno of his deep-seated rage.

ChapterFourteen

Anna

“Siobhán Connelly.”

“Hi, Siobhán. It’s Anna.”

“Hey, girl. What’s up?”

“Mr. DeVita told me you needed help with a charity gala? He asked me to call you.”

It was Thursday, just before lunch, and this was the last loose end I needed to tie up before taking my break.

“Yes! Oh my God, thank you! There’s only a week left until the event, and I have so much to do.”

“What do you need?”

“The planning is done. It’s just last-minute details. I’ll send you a list to review. I’d like to meet and divvy up the work.”

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