Page 24 of Ruthless Betrayal

“Rio, my old friend. It is good to see you in person once again.”

“Is it?” I ask with a smile. Rossi instantly stills, knowing a smile from me does not mean I am feeling joyous. “Old friend.”

He hovers, as if unsure what to do, then he seems to gather himself and continues across before stopping in front of me.

I glance down at his clenched hands, minus any bandaging. “The wound has healed, then?”

“Mostly.” He shrugs. “It hurts still, but the scarring is minimal, and there’s no sign of infection.”

There is a hint of deference in his manner that I have not seen in previous visits. He is clearly wary—rightfully so.

“I gave you back your wife, to show good faith,” he says, reproach lacing his tone.

“Yougaveher back?” I arch my brows, showing him that I recognize and dismiss his blatant stretching of fact.

“W-well,” he stutters, “I gave you the information you needed to start the search for her. I gave you the location and her new name.”

I grunt, acknowledging there is a kernel of truth in his words. But he will not get off the hook that easily. “You gave me the information,aftergiving her the means to escape in the first place.”

“I… Well…I…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “She was already running, with help from the Feds. I simply thought I would step in and keep tabs on her. Ensure her whereabouts would not become a mystery. I always planned to keep you apprised.”

“Did you?”

He rubs his palms together, then winces and drops them back to his sides. “I swear to you, on myfamily, Rio, that I did not know Anders was planning what he did. I have offered you my sincerest condolences regarding your aunt, and I have offered you the use of my men—my own resources—to find and destroy who did this to you. And remember, they did this to both of us, not just to you.”

I study his face, lit up by the sunlight pouring into the room, and look for any sign of deception. He blinks, clearly uncomfortable with the brightness, but his eyes don’t dart around or slide away. No muscle tic. No sheen of sweat. No change in his vocal tone. Nothing.

“I have said many times since that day, Rio, that I would have told you where she was. I’m certain you believe me, or I would no longer be breathing. Correct?”

The old man still knows how to play the game, it seems.

Slowly, I nod, and then gesture to the nearby couch. I will never again accept his hand, or call him friend other than in jest, but I have not yet pulled my gun and shot him between the eyes.

A good day for Rossi. So far.

He knows it, too.

The taut line of his shoulders relaxes just a notch when I say, “Take a seat and talk to me.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

I ignore the friend comment.Keep your enemies close.

I sit opposite where Rossi has settled. “You know how my family was impacted that day. And you and I both know that, by using your man to do it, whoever ordered the hit on me and my family likely wanted to start a war between us.”

“Indeed.” His dark eyes sharpen.

I am reminded that it would not do for anyone—me included—to underestimate this man.

At a signal from me, one of Danelli’s men rushes forward with a cigar case. I gesture, confirming he may offer it first to the older man.

Once our cigars are cut and lit, I lean back on the couch. “Who would benefit from a war between us, Rossi? That is the question I need answered.”

He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. Smoke curls upward from the cigar held loosely between the fingers of his right hand.

“I do not know for sure, but I am willing to bet it has something to do with this…Antonio,” he says, almost spitting out the name. “And I am only telling you this next fact because I hear whispers you are having similar issues to us down at the wharf, but we had a truck leave our warehouse outside New York and never arrive at its destination.”

I only just manage to control my shock and take a moment to steady my breathing. “Destined for where?”

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