Page 36 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
“You love her,” Gabriella whispers, and my eyes flash open, bringing a scowl to my lips. “And she betrayed you.”
That word—it makes my skin crawl as though it can sense the weakness attached to a single syllable. I say nothing, and a small, irritating smile touches Gabriella’s lips.
“Your family was under attack. She had the means to stop it. Was it betrayal or loyalty?”
She takes a slow step forward, tilting her head to the side in a way that reminds me of Una. Calculating, assessing. “I ask you again; are you done trying to help her?”
I can’t answer that.
The next morning, I find Una and Margot in the kitchen. The back patio doors are thrown open, and Gabriella sits at the table outside, eating breakfast with the two men she brought with her. Una eyes me as I approach the fridge and pull out a jug of orange juice. When I close the door, she’s right there, waiting. I didn’t even hear her move. Her blond hair lays in a tight braid over her shoulder, and she’s dressed in the fitted black shirt and pants she usually reserves for work. It deprives her of any and all softness.
“Can I help you?” I ask, stepping around her and taking a glass from the cupboard.
“She wants an alliance.”
“I’m aware.”
I take a seat at the breakfast bar, and almost immediately, Margot slides a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me.
Una takes the seat next to me. “I don’t think it’s wise.”
I spear a piece of bacon and put it in my mouth. “Bianchi is a mutual enemy,” I say between chews.
“We’ll handle Bianchi soon enough, but we don’t need Gabriella Ricci to do it.”
“What does Nero think?”
She rolls her eyes. “That the look on Enrique Bianchi’s face will be priceless when Nero destroys him.”
A smile quirks my lips because I couldn’t agree more. “Bianchi thinks he’s safe behind his politics.”
“And we all know Nero doesn’t do politics.”
I’m well aware of Nero’s blatant lack of regard for the mafia’s beloved rules and protocol.
“Either way, we don’t need her.” She jerks her head toward the doors.
Gabriella sits with her men, and yet, she seems completely alone. In a few short months, she’s lost her father and is on the verge of losing her sister. They say that power comes at a price. I wonder if she would sacrifice it to have her family back.
Una follows my gaze. “I can’t work out why Nero ever agreed to protect Adelina in the first place.”
I turn my sights back to her. “Have you asked him?”
“The usual bullshit about old blood and family alliances.”
So Nero hasn’t told her he once dated Gabriella, though truthfully, I’m not sure how much influence that would have had. Nero isn’t known for being sentimental.
“He never should have gotten you involved.”
I release a deep breath because I wish he hadn’t, too. Though where would Adelina be then? She might already be married, and her father would still be dead. Maybe I just delayed the inevitable.
Una eyes the Sicilian girl as though visualizing all the ways she could end her. “What do you think of this alliance?”
I lift one brow. “Does it matter?” What I want seems to be of little consequence these days.
Her eyes narrow, threatening violence. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“I want Bianchi dead.”
Ever since I first heard that man’s name, my life has descended into chaos. His death would solve all our problems, but it has to be handled right. Otherwise, Adelina will be a hostage in the middle of a turf war, and the carnage will continue until we lose in some fashion.
Una’s eyes meet mine, and her lips press into a flat line. “We’re not just taking him on; it’s the Elite as well,” she says.
“You can handle it.”
“We can handle it.”
“You took me off jobs, remember?”
“I need you, the smart, methodical soldier, not…whatever that was in Russia. You’re the best there is, Sasha.” She tilts her head to the side. “I know you love her.” She stares me down as I recoil from that word. “But this needs to be efficient. Planned.”
Gio strolls into the kitchen and turns on the espresso machine. He leans against the counter as black liquid pours into the unnecessarily tiny cup. “Nero wants everyone in the office. Ten minutes.”
I fork the rest of my breakfast into my mouth and push to my feet.
In the office, Nero sits behind his desk while Dante crawls across the floor. Una scoops up the little boy and props him on her hip. He instantly wriggles, annoyed by her interference of his father’s free-range parenting. She leaves the room for a moment and comes back without him. It’s Nero, Gio, Una, me, and Jackson in the office. We rarely see Jackson these days. He stepped into Nero’s role as the New York Capo, essentially handling all business in the city on Nero’s behalf. However, Jackson is ruthless, maybe even more so than Nero. He’s also one of Nero’s closest friends. Nero often brings him in when he wants advice.
