Page 50 of His Wife

“Staying at Melanie’s.”

“Melanie?” I ask, surprised. “The woman he’s been fucking?”

“Yeah.” Nicoli crosses his legs, settling in his seat. “He has her set up in this nice little apartment across town.”

“Is it serious?” A part of me hopes it is. Maybe if he has a girlfriend to focus on, he’ll be less likely to obsess over my wife.

“Nah. It’s just pussy for him. He’s been fucking Melanie for a while now.” He swirls his drink. “So, is our friendship with Saint and Gian still solid?”

“It is.” I take my seat. “If shit hits the fan, we can count on their support.”

Nicoli leans his head to the side. “And by shit, you mean Roberto?”

“I doubt our problem with our uncle will become that big of an issue to warrant outside intervention. But yes. If we need their help, they will give it.”

“And there are no strings attached to having their support?”

“None,” I reply. “Gian and Saint have no desire for an alliance.”

“Remind me how that works again.” Nicoli narrows his eyes. “We’re not in an alliance with them, yet they’ll lend us their balls and firepower if we need it, and we’ll do the same for them?”

“Why do you always have to refer to everyone’s balls?”

He sits up and leans forward. “Let me ask you this. If someone refers to a man’s balls in a conversation, do you get this weird tingly feeling in your nutsack?”

“What the fuck?” I start laughing.

“Yeah, you do.” Nicoli leans back. “And that tingly feeling, dear brother, immediately has you paying more attention to the conversation.” He shrugs. “Always refer to a man’s balls if you want to be taken seriously.”

“Sometimes, I wonder how I survived sharing the same uterus with you for nine months.”

“We survived because we have gigantic-sized balls.” He winks. “Your balls tingly?”

“Fuck off.”

Nicoli laughs, then slams back the rest of his whiskey. Bastard. I envy his ability to crack a joke to lighten the mood in any situation, no matter how high the pile of shit we find ourselves in.

“To answer your question,” I clear my throat, “Gian and Saint don’t want a hand in any Dark Sovereign business just like we don’t want anything to do with theirs. Our meeting in Rome confirmed as much. We don’t get our names mentioned in the same conversations, but when the day comes that merging our family names is warranted, it’s an avenue all three of us are willing to take.”

Nicoli sets down his glass and studies me for a moment, every trace of mischief erased. He doesn’t have to say a word because I already know what his silence is saying.

“I want him and Ricardo out, Nicoli.” I confirm what he’s thinking. “And I don’t plan on taking my time to get it done, either. I want them out and on their asses with not a dime of Dark Sovereign money in their pockets.”

“We’ll get it done,” he assures me. “But right now, we need to focus on catching whoever the fuck this psychopath is killing our girls.”

I let out a heavy sigh, hating the reminder of the shitstorm we still have to deal with. We’re nowhere close to figuring out who this fucker is and why he’s been going around killing our girls, slaughtering them like pigs. Cut ears, sewn-shut mouths, and crosses shoved inside the victims—it’s like the goddamn Antichrist has been set free at our front door, and he wants to start the apocalypse in our back yard.

I sit back down, leaning my elbows on my knees. “Tell me you got something while I was gone. Anything.”

“No, man. Nothing.” Nicoli’s expression is somber; he’s just as frustrated as I am. “Honestly, I don’t think we’re going to get any closer to catching this fucker while our clubs are closed.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that as long as he has no reason to come out of hiding, he ain’t going to leave us any breadcrumbs to follow.”

I pull my palm down my face. “Are you suggesting we reopen our clubs and hope he comes back?”

“It’s fucked up.” Nicoli loosens his tie with a yank, unbuttoning his collar. “But if we want this son of a bitch caught, we’re going to have to take the risk. You know that as well as I do.”

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