Page 19 of His Savage Vow
My heart stops. “Could he be a traitor? Do you think he’s on the run?”
“My first thought when we didn’t hear from him was that he was dead. I thought he was likely taken out as part of the operation to rob Monroe’s. It’s possible, however, that he’s our rat.”
I grip the edge of the table. “Then we have to find him,” I say, the words shaky. “I need to know if it was him.”
Maximo’s eyes meet mine. “We will. Pellegrini worked under another crew, led by one of my captains named Spicy Molini. Spicy’s crew and all my other men are tearing up the city looking for him.” He steps closer, his voice lower. “When we find him, you need to make a decision, Constance. Do you have what it takes to be the woman who ends him? Or do you just want to be the one who watches me do it?”
I swallow hard, trying to force down the hot bile that floods my throat. Now that I have a face to focus my fury, waves of nausea wash over me as I think about putting a gun to this man’s head and pulling the trigger. For the first time, a sliver of doubt creeps into my mind. Could I really kill a man all on my own? Would simply letting Maximo do it appease the rage inside me?
Deep down, I want to be the kind of woman who can kill him myself. I just don’t know if that woman exists yet.
My hesitation feels like a weakness. Like I’m failing my father all over again. So, rather than answer Maximo now, Ishake my head to try and banish the doubts and go back to reviewing the personnel files with Maximo.
I want to memorize every detail of each of these possible suspects. I want the faces of the people who let my father down burned into my memory, just as the memories of the man himself are etched onto my heart.
8
Maximo
I’min the kitchen way too early the next morning, with no sign of Constance. After we had dinner last night, she took several of the files we reviewed earlier back to her room. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I didn’t try to stop her either.
“What time did she go to sleep?” I ask my youngest cousin Luca.
“I believe Miss Monroe turned off the bedroom light and retired just after midnight,” Luca replies. “She requested to have breakfast delivered to her room this morning.”
“She doesn’t want to have breakfast with me?” The question slips out sharper than I intend.
“She didn’t give a reason, sir.”
“Right,” I mutter, trying and failing to ignore the way her blowing me off stings. “Have the cook scramble some eggs and prepare sausage, bacon, and pastries. Send it to her room with an invitation to continue training at nine.”
What the hell?
She’s avoiding me.
I shouldn’t fucking care. But I do, far more than I should.
When Constance finally descends the stairway to the basement later that morning, something tightens in my chest. Relief, maybe, and I hate that her absence at breakfast affected me at all.
At least she looks more at ease today. Her eyes aren’t as puffy and swollen from crying. She’s wearing one of her new outfits, a green sweater over blue jeans with a pair of sneakers.
I want to ask her why she didn’t join me for breakfast when she silently joins me at the workbench.
“You look good today,” I remark instead, returning my attention back to the knife I’m running through an electric sharpener instead of giving her the third degree.
“Your tailor filled the closet with more clothes than I’ve ever seen outside a department store,” she says, then adds softer, “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” I reply.
She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it and nods to the knife. “I think I’m more nervous about these than I was holding a gun.” Picking up a green switchblade, she presses the release. The blade shoots straight out the front with aCHINGand immediately she drops it onto the bench, where it clatters among the others.
She looks so offended by the knife jumping out of her hand that I can’t suppress my small chuckle. “That’s an OTF knife, an out-the-front style switchblade,” I tell her with a grin.
“It just surprised me.” She bites her bottom lip and picks itback up, pushes the button to retract it. “It came out with more force than I expected.”
“That one’s supposed to do that. It has a heavy spring made to startle,” I explain. “You just put it up against a person and push the button. It’ll go right through them. Surprise is exactly what it’s used for.”
I step behind her and using two fingers, I poke her gently in the back, around her kidneys. “You want to use that kind of knife either here, under the ribcage to stab them in the kidney or jam it in the front of their throat. A front-loader can slip between ribs and hit the heart, but if it hits a bone the blade can jam.”
