Page 124 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“About time you admitted that you love that woman.”

I hadn’t said anything of the sort. But Emma wasmine—and I wasn’t going to allow anything or anyone to hurt her.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

Emma

Toronto, Canada

The low sound of the television was the only noise in the too-quiet house. It was strange to be home. My father was thinner than before and slept longer stretches. The treatments had taken a toll on him. Soon I needed to meet with his doctor and discuss next steps.

But not today.

I couldn’t think about my father and his failing health right now. I needed to concentrate.

A single set of footsteps sounded in the hall. Putting down the book I was pretending to read, I braced myself. No one should be on this floor right now.

A man appeared in the doorway. Uncle Reggie. His gaze swept the room, the bed, then landed on me. “Emma. What a surprise. I didn’t realize you’d returned.”

Liar. No doubt he received a phone call the instant I walked into the house a few hours ago. “Hi, Uncle Reggie. I got back earlier today.”

He took a few steps inside, closer to my father’s bed. “Back from Panama.”

“Peru,” I corrected, even though we both knew I’d been in Palermo.

“Yes. Now I remember.” His eyes were flat and hard, hardly the stare of the loving uncle. “You look pale. I thought Peru was sunny. Were you not outside much?”

“I was mostly inside medical tents. There wasn’t time for anything else.”

“I see.” He glanced over at my father’s bed. “And how is he doing?”

“Do you really care?”

He cocked his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’ve been working with Don Virga. I know you’re the one who let him take me to Palermo.”

The moment stretched as he grappled with my revelation, first surprise then resignation settling on his face. “So you’ve figured it out. I have to say, I hadn’t expected you to be the one to put the pieces together. Maybe you’re as smart as they say.”

Before I could respond, he reached under his jacket and pulled out a pistol. It was black and menacing, the weapon perfectly at home in his large hand. “You should have stayed in Sicily. Married. Quiet.Alive.”

Through sheer strength of will, I didn’t move. “You can’t kill me. You’re courting the wrath of both Ravazzani and D’Agostino, if you do.”

“Who says I planned to kill you?” Raising the pistol, he aimed it at the lump in my father’s bed and squeezed off two rapid shots.

I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. A good thing because Uncle Reggie seemed to forget about me for a few seconds as he stared at the lump under the blankets.

It must have struck him that something was wrong, because he darted toward the bed. “Where is the blood?” With one smooth motion, he yanked the blankets and sheets off and tossed them to the floor.

The plastic dummy we’d placed there stared up at the ceiling, lifeless, two bullet holes in its empty chest. My father was safe in another part of the house, well guarded.

“Motherfucker!” Uncle Reggie shouted, whirling on me.

But it was too late.

The D’Agostino brothers and their men were swarming the room, guns aimed at my uncle. “Killing your own brother?” Enzo sneered. “That is fucked up, even for you, Reggie.”

Reggie’s surprise faded quickly and he suddenly pointed his pistol at me. I froze and stared at the round hole where a bullet could end my life. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck, but I didn’t look away. I knew this was a possibility when we crafted this plan, but knowing it and experiencing it were two totally different things. I struggled to remain calm.

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