Page 60 of Gin & Trouble

Even if I could forgive and forget, my family would never accept her. Not to mention, a Marchionni-Abruzzo union would put Marco in an impossible spot with the Cosa Nostra. Mafia marriages required as much negotiations as royal matches. There were terms to iron out. Alliances to forge. Enemies to appease.

Not that I’m thinking marriage.

Late as usual, Marco came through the glass doors with his security team following a few steps behind him. He caught sight of me and arched a brow. “I take it things didn’t go well?”

“What makes you say that?” I gave him a half-hearted hug.

He continued to stare like he expected me to have a meltdown in the middle of the lobby. “Not for nothing, but you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios, dude.”

“I’ll tell you all about my urine-soaked cereal in there.” I nodded to a set of double doors to our right.

He followed me to the empty conference room. “Where’s the girl?”

“I left her in my apartment. Kincaid has orders to keep her there.” Nothing would have made me happier than walking out of the building and forgetting about my mess of a life for a few hours, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when I had questions that needed answering.

“Is that wise with all of your equipment up there?”

“No, but I intend to put a monitor on her account. She won’t as much as watch a video on YouTube without my knowing about it.” I hitched a shoulder. “Besides, she’s doing some digging into Meriwether for Leo.”

Marco plopped into a chair, rested his elbow on the arm rest, and propped his chin in his hand. Grinning, he asked, “Frankie Abruzzo, huh?”

“I wouldn’t have given her the time of day had I known who she was.” I more slumped than sat. “But yeah. Looks like we both have a thing for mafia princesses.”

“Did she give you an explanation for her activities over the previous year?”

“Trying to get the goods on us, so she could force you into helping her sisters.” Rather than meeting his gaze, I picked at my cuticles. “I didn’t tell her Tommaso has Sophia.”

Marco sat back and blew out a breath. “Don’t you think she needs to know?”

“Yes and no.” I’d almost told her before I left the apartment but had stopped myself. “She has a right to know because Sophia is her sister. No, because she’ll do something stupid and end up in the same situation or worse.”

“Good point.” Marco scratched his jaw. “Has she been up to anything else? Besides snooping around here?”

“That bug in my program?” I hesitated, trying to figure out what I thought about her involvement before blabbing to Marco. “She may have caused it, but—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” He held up his hand as if to illustrate his point. “Given what’s going on with Sophia and Valentina, I seriously doubt she hosed your program to cover for Tommaso.”

Shaking my head, I mumbled, “Me either, but she intercepted the alert.”

“That’s…disturbing.” He furrowed his brow. “So which is it? Is she helping that asshat or trying to save her sisters?”

“The latter.” On some levels I wondered if I knew Frankie Abruzzo at all, but on others, I felt like I’d known her my entire life. Then again, she could be one hell of a con-artist, which would make me one hell of a sap. “But I have no proof.”

“What does your gut say?”

“My gut doesn’t get a vote. I want cold hard facts.”

He nodded. “You okay with me talking to her?”

“Absolutely. Maybe your bullshit meter is working better than mine. I’d like your take on the situation.”

My phone rang before Marco had a chance to reply.

“It’s Kincaid.” I brought the phone to my ear. “Marchionni.”

“Sir, there’s asituationat Miss Carpenter’s house.” He spoke in his usual clipped tone, but beneath the professional veneer, he seemed shaken. “A shooting.”

Frankie had told me she lived with her sister in a place on the seedier side of town. I’d assumed thesisterin question was Sophia, but I’d seen her boarding a plane. So who was left in the house?

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