Page 41 of Bloody Savage God
When she speaks, her voice is measured, but the annoyance still comes through clearly. “If you have a suggestion you want to make, just spit it out. I don’t have time for these games.”
The look I give her wanders from her face down to her breasts and then even lower, reminding her that earlier she carved out time just fine. Still, I’m intent on having her involve me, so I don’t draw out my point longer than necessary. “That day you ran down Benny Ronaldo and saw me. Don’t you think it’s an odd coincidence?”
For a moment, Gianna looks puzzled. She pulls back one of the island chairs and points at it, expecting me to sit before she does. Always in charge, the princess.
It’s no skin off my back, so I sit down, waiting for her to join Mia on the other side.
“You’re saying the whole thing was a setup to feed my suspicion about you? Make it easy for me to believe that killing my father was retaliation for us going after the Ronaldos?”
I shrug. “Maybe. But more importantly, I was there because Benny had fucked up, lending out money to someone he shouldn’t have. Babysitting duty, if you will.” I scowl at the memory of my father assigning me such bullshit.
He hadn’t been pleased about what had gone down that day.
“I was there to let Benny know he couldn’t mess around at our games.” Her fingers tap against the countertop in a fast motion, the noise seeming much louder in the silence. “My uncle told me he’d tried to give out private loans. Encroaching on our business.”
That is interesting. Obviously my hunch that that day in the parking lot wasn’t a coincidence actually has some merit.
Mia seems to agree, because she sits up straighter. “Let’s assume that your uncle is actually setting you up, Gianna. Using the Russians to get you out of the way in order to smoothly take overlafamiliawithout anyone challenging him would be smart. Maybe he assumed you’d get yourself killed going after Mikhail, or if you succeeded, the fallout would take you out of the game.”
Gianna nods, showing no signs of feeling upset by such a betrayal from her own family no less, while Mia continues. “So, in that case, why did he use this Ronaldo guy? What’s the angle?”
“Because if what he told me was a lie, it’s logical to assume Mikhail got a more accurate picture of why Benny was the target that day. Benny lent money to someone who wasn’t about to pay it back. I don’t know if my uncle actually owed him money, or set that up as well, but the outcome was the same. Benny is connected to the Russians. Being warned about the threat, he gets an escort, so when I showed up and attacked someone under their protection, it could easily look like the Russians were retaliating.”
“Except, going after your father is a massive overreaction that we wouldn’t have risked,” I remind her.
Gianna shrugs. “You’re Bratva. It’s easy enough of a story to believe.”
That has me grinding my teeth. We are significantly more sophisticated than that, but it seems the Italian let their guard down, assuming superiority where there isn’t much of that left. Though, I’m not about to clear that up for her right now. It’s an advantage my family has, and it’s best to keep as much of it as we can. Even if I’m intent on seeing my princess come out on top, it doesn’t mean my family loyalty has evaporated.
“All right, so we have a theory of how you were set up, and the why is pretty clear as well. The question remains, how do we prove it and what are you going to do about it?” Mia asks.
“I think it’s time to go gambling.” Gianna announces with a determined expression.
“Sounds fun,” I offer. “Looks like your uncle isn’t very good at keeping his cards covered. Maybe we can shake him up a bit.”
Gianna nods, before looking at Mia. “Before we do that, I think it might be a good idea if you tell me why Mikhail knows your name and face. Looks like our business is crossing paths, and I’d rather be prepared for whatever mess we’re about to dig up.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gianna
Whydoeseverythinglatelyhave to turn into a cluster fuck?
“So you’re telling me that your father owes the Bratva, and when Tsepov’s guy reminded him of just that, he beat the shit out of him and got himself sent to solitary to avoid any immediate retaliation?”
“Essentially,” Mia says, her expression showing only a hint of the hurt she must be feeling at her father’s betrayal, because we both know the Russians won’t hesitate to go after Mia if her father is out of reach. And Greg Samson knows as much. Meaning he willingly risked his daughter getting beat up, if not killed, by the Russians to save his own skin.
This also explains her unusual reluctance to visit him.
“Look, I didn’t know Mikhail would be here, or that you two might work out a deal to temporarily work together, so we can keep my business out of this as much as possible.”
We’re not the hugging types, so I give her a reassuring smile instead. A genuine one, not the type I give clients who are worried they are spending too much on a new house or apartment. “You came to help me out. I’ll return the favor. You can be sure about that.”
Mia takes a second to consider my words. She wouldn’t take charity, but we know each other well enough to know this is a fair exchange of favors, so she doesn’t lose face by getting my help.
Assuming I can get my own shit figured out enough to actually help her. Because if things with the Russians blow up, she might just have an even bigger target on her back, and right now, I’m not sure I have the manpower behind me to deal with a war.
Just now the front door opens and Mikhail walks back in, giving me a look that is somewhere between questioning and annoyed.
