Page 168 of Taming Seraphine

“Coffee?” I ask.

“No, thanks.”

“Mind if I make some?” I gesture toward the kitchen.

“Go ahead.” He lowers himself into a dining chair.

I step into the kitchen, prepare a fresh pot of the special blend, and open the cupboard beneath the sink where I keep a spare gun. I pull it from where I left it taped to the underside of the cabinet, check the magazine, and slip it into the waistband of my sweatpants.

It’s been four months since I last saw Anton. Any warmth I might have toward him is now cold. My mind can’t reconcile Seraphine’s horrific accounts of abuse with the stoic man who brought me into his home, but there’s a fury burning in the pit of my stomach that’s threatening to erupt.

My feelings for Seraphine override my loyalty to Anton, but I have to stay cool. Anton never just visits without a reason. If he’s come prepared for battle, I can’t risk letting my emotions take control. That would risk Seraphine’s safety.

The kitchen door opens, and Anton steps in.

“Changed your mind about the coffee?” I reach for a mug.

He snorts.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

Anton leans against the counter. “Rita tells me you’re running the business to the ground.”

“How did she come to that conclusion?” I ask with a smirk. “Everyone’s completing their assignments and the contractors are getting paid on time.”

“She exaggerates.” He lifts the coffee pot and pours out a steaming cup. “But the question still stands. What are you doing with the business?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You’re making a mess of the Capello job.”

I stiffen, my throat tightening until it hits. He’s talking about the million-dollar deposit transferred to the firm from the bank account of Joseph Di Marco. I made the mistake of thinking our mystery client was Capello’s lawyer.

“These things take time,” I say. “Whoever massacred that family had to be a professional because they didn’t leave any clues.”

“Yet you didn’t once visit the mansion to find them,” Anton says.

Shit.

I huff a laugh. “Rita told you that?”

“No, I heard that from Samson Capello.”

“Isn’t he dead?” I raise a brow.

Anton takes a long sip from the mug, all the while staring at me through those cold, gray eyes. My heart pounds so hard its vibrations fill my ears, but I keep my breath deep and even, the way Anton taught me when I was a boy.

“He’s alive, and he’s demanding his little sister.”

I cock my head to the side. “I thought he only had an identical twin.”

“Leroi,” he says in his cut-the-bullshit tone. “I know you have Seraphine. The GPS on her collar last registered her at this location.“

My lips tighten. There’s no point in wasting my breath with denials. Anton must have known the truth from the day he called, informing me that a lone gunman had murdered the Capello family. The question is, why has he taken so long to act?

“You’re in contact with Samson?” I ask.

He nods and takes another sip. “Who do you think helped the boys plan out Seraphine’s little missions?”

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