Page 41 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

The neon signon the Somewhere Bar casts a weak glow over the dingy window as we pull up in an armored SUV. This won’t be the same as my last visit—a silly game of cat and mouse to make a skittish Eden tell the truth. Tonight, I expect to hear lies and maybe something useful. Pavel eyes me in the rearview mirror, and I nod once, signaling him to follow behind us.

I may be in love, but I’m no fool.

“Ready?” I ask Eden, my gaze searching hers for any hint of doubt.

Eden nods, watching the front door. “My uncle won’t trick us. He’s not my father.”

The corner of my mouth lifts in a skeptical grin. Eden barely even knows her father, so I’ll judge the uncle for myself. The door to the walk-up creaks open, and I see a few patrons hunched over their drinks at the bar. In silence, they stare at a football game on the widescreen. It looks like only the diehards are here tonight. Old men who can only dream of the glory days when they were young and powerful.

Good. It’ll give us some privacy. And more importantly, they can vouch for whatever Vito reports back.

The relaxed, jovial feel of the place is absent tonight, and I scan the room for trouble, spotting Vito Genovesi and Luigi Bianchi sitting at a table far away from the bar.

Pavel approaches the bar and nods to the bulky bald man behind it. Vince, I think that’s his name. They size each other up with a glance and then nod that they understand each other. They won’t give grief unless they get it. Pavel sits at the bar as Vince slowly wipes water spots off a clean glass and pours him a beer from the tap.

“Showtime,” I say under my breath, guiding Eden toward the table.

“Starukhin,” Vito greets with an insincere smile. “And Eden, dear, thank you for bringing him along.”

Bianchi’s gaze lingers on me with a hint of disdain as Vito gives Eden a quick peck on the cheek.

“Genovesi,” I extend my hand to him, but not Bianchi, and we shake. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

Vito nods to the empty seats across from him and Bianchi. He waits until we’ve settled and gestures to Vince, who walks over with a small stack of menus. He doesn’t make eye contact with us or Bianchi, but he shows respect to Vito.

“Would you like to order something for the table, boss?” asks Vince.

Vito smirks. “Bring some bread for the table and a bottle of wine. And a seltzer for my niece.”

Vince glances at Eden with a scornful look, but he walks away before I say something. I get it. The Somewhere Bar is on edge, not because I’m here but because Mercy isn’t.

Vito Genovesi is no small-time Mafia made-man like Bianchi. He rates high in the hierarchy by being related to Christian Genovesi, the consigliere of Emilio Lanzzare. Vito doesn’t involve himself in petty outside business. He focuses on keeping the peace within the entire family. And like it or not, Edenisfamily.

He’s here to negotiate, which he does best, and get his daughter back. If Eden weren’t involved, we wouldn’t be breaking bread right now.

“We must eat something.” Smiling, Vito opens his menu. “They have the best burgers in Manhattan.”

I smile despite the unease, remembering the first time I heard those words. Vito notices the affectionate look I give Eden when she giggles at the corny joke, and the tension eases off the table a bit. We just confirmed that we’re all here just to talk.

“What a mess we find ourselves in.” Vito stares at Eden. “And I never thought my little niece would be in the middle of it.”

Eden doesn’t look away from Vito’s harsh gaze, but she’s trying too hard not to fidget in her seat. I hand her a menu and pick up the conversation from there.

“Why all the secrecy?” I question him casually. “Why do we need to talk in person?”

Vito leans back in the wooden chair. “Your brigadiers may not have told you everything you should know.” He glances at Pavel,who keeps one eye on us. “I want to make sure that you know exactly what happened that night from our point of view.”

“Am I supposed to take your word for it?” I ask skeptically.

“No,” Vito insists. “But I believe you’ll want tolistenand judge for yourself. To start, the Lanzzare want power over Jersey. We’re not interested in settling personal vendettas for one of your ex-brigadiers.”

Petty? My brother being gunned down wasn’t insignificant. Matvei was my big brother, and he wasn’t expendable. He was aprince, not just a brigadier!He looked out for me, and it cost him. It’s hard not to lash out, reach across the table, and smack the arrogant look off Vito’s face.

But we’re on his territory now, so I must be civil. I swallow my hate so I can hear him out.

“What do you want to tell me?” I ask icily.

Vito turns to look at Eden as he speaks. “We had nothing to do with the death of my cousin Aria. She was family, even if she chose to run off with Zakhar. We held no grudges against him once he married her. In fact, we helped you and your father when he left the Bratva.” Vito’s gaze switches to me. “Or, more accurately, when the Bratva left him. Zakhar had a baby to raise on his own and nowhere to run, so I helped him.”

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