Page 54 of Captive Heart: Armani
She doesn’t answer, just glares at me with hatred.
“You know, I’m wondering now…have you ever seen the remains of this house?”
“Yes. My uncle took me to see it, and I’ve driven by many times over the years. It’s nothing but a dirt lot. The fire destroyed everything, down to the last stick of furniture.”
How convenient. Who knows if there was ever a house there to begin with? Or if Sergio Bruno himself didn’t set fire to the house that was there?
“So I’m guessing that means you don’t have any photos of your parents?” I prod. “No baby pictures, either? They all got burned in the fire?”
“Yes. What the fuck does this have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing,” I say with a shrug.
I glance over at Candi. She’s still standing in the same position, her whole body tense, as she observes my exchange with Juliana. But there’s something more guarded in her expression now. Maybe she’s taken aback by her friend’s attitude. Maybe she’s never seen Juliana so hostile and combative before. This woman might be a far cry from the Juliana she knows.
“Do you enjoy swimming?” I ask, returning to my interrogation, choosing to let Juliana’s avoidance of my question about the street name slide.
She lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Is this a first date?”
I’m losing my patience. I take two steps forward, holding the gun steady. “I asked you a question, now it’s your turn to answer. Do you enjoy swimming. Yes or no.”
“I don’t know how to fucking swim, okay? I have a weird phobia about water—bodies of water—but I can doggy paddle my way around a pool just fine. Okay?” She gives me a very judgmental stare. “You know, you have a reputation for being one hell of an interrogator, but so far you suck.”
Candi moves a little closer to her friend. “Juliana, don’t. Please. Don’t antagonize him.”
Juliana fixes Candi with a hard look. “Why? Worried he’ll shoot me? I can’t believe I thought you were my friend,Cassandra. If he kills me, it’ll be on you.”
Her open hostility toward my wife sets me off. I’m in front of the chair in a blink, fixing Juliana with my dead-eyed, dangerous interrogation gaze.
“You are the key to what could become one of the most savage, bloodthirsty, and violent criminal organizations this country has ever seen,” I grind out. “So you will excuse my wife for doing what she thought was best in dealing with you. You are nothing more than a viper, and I swear to God if you strike at her, I will kill you.”
Juliana watches me, but I can’t tell if she believes me or not, or if she’s even intimidated in the slightest. Because it seems that this woman, like me, is an expert at hiding her emotions. Her face is expressionless, a perfect poker face. I never realized until this very moment how absolutely infuriating that is. Normally, I can read people with ease, but somehow she’s blocking me at every turn. Another Bellanti trait.
No. I’m not buying it. Not without real evidence.
“I would never hurt Candi. Never,” she hisses.
The women look at each other and suddenly my wife is hugging her friend. Her back is to me, as if she’s shielding Juliana from any further interrogation, but I can tell that Juliana is not hugging her back.
“How heartwarming,” I say dryly. “But I’m not done.”
In fact, I’m nowhere near done, but I’m willing to give my wife this allowance. I know this isn’t easy on her. I’m sure it tore her up inside to text me this morning.
Regardless, I’m done playing the “what if” game.
Holstering my gun, I withdraw a small black zippered case from inside my blazer. Then I unzip it and approach Juliana.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
Candi looks over her shoulder at me and then stumbles back, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
“Are you drugging me now?” Juliana sasses. “Is that some kind of truth serum?”
“No. Just taking a sample of your DNA.”
She recoils as I pull out the syringe. “Then swab my cheek, asshole.”
“Oh, no. I want the good stuff. A blood sample will leave no doubt.”
