Page 69 of Undercover Desires

Before Giulio can start protesting, or God forbid plant a bullet between her eyes, I lift my right arm. A silent command.

He says nothing, just turns around and walks out of the unit.

It is after she is out of sight that she finally puts down her own gun.

“What do you want? Start talking!” she says.

“Hello to you too, Miss Trumon.”

She lifts her glasses and I notice her brown eyes as she puts the glasses in her coat pocket. “I am not in the business of niceties, Ricci. I don’t like you. I don’t like your brother. I have no business meeting with any member of the Cosa Nostra.”

No love lost I see.

I scoff, “Oh! You are okay having us murdered buttalking is where you draw the line. I see.”

She stiffens and then immediately corrects her posture. Any other person would have missed it but not me. She is unnerved. She did not expect me to bring that up.

She shrugs feigning nonchalance. “It is not like you’re saints.”

“Right. Anyway, that is what I came to talk to you about. Tell me about Rachel.”

This time she does not even pretend to shrug it off, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

This goddamn infuriating woman. I should have let Giulio shoot her. “I am not here to play games.”

“You are the ones who called me,” she retorts.

I reach out and grab her arm, “Listen here, I am trying to play nice with you, but don’t think for a second I won’t shoot and bury you myself. And I don’t care who sees okay?”

Then I let her go, “Now, let’s try that again. Tell me about Rachel.”

She rubs at the spot I grabbed, hatred in her eyes, “I know for a fact that you know everything there is to know, so Ricci, let’s not waste our time. Ask what you want to know.”

I scrub a hand over my jaw hating the short stubble that has started to form. It has been so long since I neglected my own personal hygiene. This is all Rachel’s doing.

I want to ask but I am more afraid to hear the answer. “Did they… Did any of the Mafia men hurt her? Did they touch her?”

Sophie raises an eyebrow. “What? Like, was she raped?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Fuck! Why is it suddenly so hard to breath?

“Yes. Did any of them rape her?”

“No,” she studies me. “This is all about her mother. I know you know how that all went.”

I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest, “Are you sure about that?”

She takes a step closer to me. “Yes, but the real question is, why do you even care? Do you actually, in your own twisted, way care about her?”

Yes.“I am the one asking the questions here.”

She takes a step back, a curve on her lips, “Wow! You actually care about her! Color me surprised.”

“Fuck Sophie. Can you just cooperate so we can get this over and done with?”

She crosses her arms. “You are not the boss of me. What else?”

I ask the question that has been gnawing at me since I found out the truth about her. “What is her endgame?”

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