Page 84 of Impenitent Claim

He could start by taking his ring off my woman. I clenched my teeth to hold back the retort. I would take her in the end, and this skinny little boy would only survive my wrath and destruction if he stayed out of my way.

Isabella must have sensed the darkness swirling inside me. She stepped between us, throwing me a quick, pointed look. “Let’s go up front and make sure the others are away from the windows. Your father sent soldiers?”

“And a clean team,” I added. The don didn’t need to send fucking soldiers. I was perfectly capable of protecting what was mine.

The back door banged open.

I stepped in front of Isabella, pointing my gun at the opening.

“Put that thing away before you hurt someone,” the cook snarked.

I glowered at her. “You were a hairsbreadth away from meeting your maker, ma’am.”

She let out a hoarse laugh that was roughened by the years of smoking. “The back alley is clear. A Rinaldi car is blocking the entrance.”

“Thank you, Suzy. I’ll personally see to it that your husband’s medicine is paid for the rest of this year and next too.” Alonzo walked over, extending his hand.

The woman’s face softened—an incredible feat, given the aged lines in her features. “Thank you, signore.”

An emotion, clawing and terrible, swelled inside me. My hands curled into fists. I knew this scrawny man was a threat because of his claim to my woman. But it was at this moment that I saw the man come out of the boy’s body to shine at last. There was a redeeming, worthy quality about him after all. He was my equal on some level. I’d done well for myself, carving out a place in one of the bratva organizations of Chicago. We did this kind of thing as well, offering protection and benefits to those in our territories.

My rival was suddenly worthy, and I couldn’t have that.

“Come on,” I said gruffly. “Let’s check on your brother and the others.”

Isabella pushed through the swinging door before I could jump ahead of her. Following, I quickly scanned the restaurant, noting how most patrons had cleared out of the establishment. Italians milled about on the street out front, already picking up the dead bodies.

“What’s he doing here?” Gio challenged.

I cut the puppy a hard look.

Coffee gurgled behind me. The scent was strong and beckoning. I suddenly wanted to drink a cup, maybe even a piece of toast if the old woman in the back deigned to make it for me. If not, I would take it.

“He was at Tullio’s gym,” Isabella explained. “He came here for supper and found assassins ready to take us out.”

“Oh, where’s Cosimo?” Gio asked, leaning around his sister.

A frown curled my lips down. “How the hell should I know?”

“You said you were at the gym. Cosimo was there, working with some of the guys.” Gio flicked a glance at his sister. “That’s why he couldn’t join us tonight.”

One of the other lads murmured in assent.

“I can assure you, the young Fabrizi hasn’t been at the facility all evening,” I said, moving to the coffee pot. Mercifully it was the black-rimmed pot that was freshly brewed. I grabbed a cup, preparing to pour, when I noticed the strange look on Isabella’s face.

Was it because I was taking the coffee?

“No, you’re wrong,” Gio insisted, his voice taking on a petulant edge. He stalked over, thrusting his smartphone in my face.

I couldn’t have read the words if I wanted, but I memorized their shape to input into the voice translator later.

“So?” I growled. “Go check the security footage if you don’t believe me.”

The underboss’s son hadn’t been there before nine, and the trainer was closing the place when I left to stalk my woman and kill the Conti men on the damn haunted ship.

“Let me see that,” Isabella said quietly, snatching the phone from her brother’s fingers. Her lips tightened in a thin line, and something shifted in her eyes that sent me immediately on high alert.

As she handed the device back to the boy, the mob stormed through the front door. I took a long sip of my coffee, letting the black liquid scald my mouth and throat. There would be a volley of questions, and I needed to remember my part as hulking dummy—the oaf-like cage fighter without a brain.

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