Page 32 of Gin & Trouble

“Yeah. Do you know her or something?”

“She looks familiar.” He continued to stare at her image. “What did you say her last name was?”

Zach had said the same thing. Even Leo and Enzo felt like they’d seen her somewhere before. Not surprising—she was hard to miss and harder to forget.

“Carpenter. She works for us. Cyber security. She’s the one who’s working on the AI security program and spends the rest of her day attempting to hack into our systems.”

Marco nodded without taking his eyes off the screen. “To have that kind of access, I assume she’s had multiple background checks?”

“Top secret clearance.” He was starting to freak me out.

“Good luck with the future serial killer.” Enzo grabbed his phone and walked away.

“You obviously like this one. What’s the scoop?” Marco slung his arm over my shoulder. “Is she Italian?”

His quick change in demeanor did nothing to ease my mind. He’d damned near swallowed his tongue when he’d gotten a look at Julia. Something was up, and I intended to find out what.

“DoesCarpentersound Italian to you?” I stepped back and folded my arms. “The scoop is she doesn’t mix business with pleasure. But I’m wearing her down.”

“Laying on the Marchionni charm. Good plan.” He nodded. “Does she have an accent?”

What the hell kind of question is that?

“She grew up in Connecticut. Sometimes she drops her Rs like a Bostonian.” I’d had enough of the tap-dancing. “What aren’t you telling me? And don’t say nothing. Where do you think you know her from?”

He leaned close and lowered her voice. “She looks a lot like Mia Abruzzo.”

I burst out laughing. “Trust me, Julia is a far-freaking-cry from a mob princess.”

“Yeah.” Marco ran his hand over the back of his neck. Again. “You’re probably right.”

The mere mention of the Abruzzos made my stomach clench. “Any word on when theFratellanzais going to deal with Sophia? It’s been ages, and we still haven’t gotten justice for Joe and Rebecca.”

His shoulders tightened at the mention of our brother and sister-in-law. “Justice won’t bring them back.”

“No, but seeing Sophia Abruzzo get what she deserves will make me feel better.” I could count on one hand the number of people I hated, and Miss Abruzzo was at the top of my list. The sooner she was locked up—or better yet, dead—the sooner my family would feel safe again.

Marco frowned. “No one’s seen her.”

“I thought she was under house arrest on her family’s compound.” That the woman responsible for ending Joe and Rebecca’s lives was God knew where pissed me off on an entirely new level.

“She may be, but none of the people we have inside the Abruzzo compound have seen her in months.”

“Months?”

Marco shoved his hands in his pockets. “Things have gone to shit since old-man Abruzzo died.Junioris auctioning off his sisters to strengthen their power base, or is trying to. After the funeral, they all disappeared. That is until Valentina showed up out of the blue for her engagement party.”

“TJ always was a heartless son of a bitch.” I’d always hated the way single women were treated like a commodity in the mafia.

Not that long ago, Nico, Marco’s wife, had been in a similar situation. Her father, and our mother, had demanded she marry Enzo in some bizarre attempt to keep the Marchionnis in the Cosa Nostra. Nico and Marco had run off and eloped to prevent that from happening. Unfortunately, marrying Nicolina Lazio had roped him in the mob so tight not even Houdini could have freed him.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Marco chuckled. “I feel bad for the poor bastard that gets saddled with Sophia. She’s easy on the eyes but knows a hundred and four ways to kill a man with a stiletto.”

“Tell me about it.” The mere thought of marrying into that freak-show of a family sent a chill down my spine.

I had a feeling there was more to the story with the Abruzzos than he was letting on, but I doubted he’d share it. Since he’d becomecapoof the family, there was more going on in his life that he couldn’t tell me than what he could.

I cocked my head and flashed him a grin. I’d waited months to have this conversation. “Can I ask you something without you busting my balls?”

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