Page 3 of Caterina
Especially at the house of a crime boss.
To say I wouldn’t be well-received is an understatement.
So I did the next best thing. I called in favors and had contacts on the East Coast check in on her for me.
All good, the reports said. Well, other than her marrying into the Conti family. All of our phone calls since then have sounded normal. She sounded like Teresa.
Dry wit. Steady and sane. Smarter than everyone else in the room.
Just a woman newly married and excited about the baby on the way.
Totally normal.
But I still didn’t trust it.
So when she called again recently and said she had a proposal for me, I listened.
Protecting Luca Conti’s youngest daughter is not the kind of assignment I usually take just because a family member asks.
In my line of work, mob money spends the same as anyone else’s, but it buys complications I prefer to avoid.
Hidden agendas. Competing chains of command. Men with egos bigger than their discipline.
Too many guns and not enough training. Everyone assuming they know what’s what because they grew up around violence.
But Teresa asked.
And more than that, Teresa handed me a reason to get inside the perimeter and see for myself what the hell her life actually looks like now.
The SUV rolls to a stop at the base of the front steps.
Before I can shut off the engine, the front door opens, and Teresa’s shape fills the doorway.
I know her on sight even after a couple of years.
She’s taller than most women, curvy, her dark brown hair pulled back from her face, a few soft pieces loose around it. Her eyes find mine through the windshield, and then she smiles.
It’s not polite, or careful, or practiced. It’s a real, full-blown smile.
Something in my chest loosens despite myself.
Then tightens back up at the shadow that appears behind her.
A man built like trouble. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Broad through the shoulders. He doesn’t move much, but he doesn’t need to.
Violence hangs on him in a way I know on sight. Not posturing or loud. Worse than that.
Completely natural.
This is a man who doesn’t have to prove he’s dangerous. It’s all over him.
My back goes tight, and my spine straightens.
Vito Conti.
He stands half a step behind Teresa without crowding her, watchful in a dark T-shirt and dark pants that do nothing to hide his size.
He looks relaxed in the way dangerous men sometimes do when they’re in their own territory and know they have every advantage.
