Page 124 of Ruthless Redemption

“We could. But putting my brothers in power would mean I don’t need his permission at all. It takes away the risk of being denied.”

She lowers her gaze, her brows knitted.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep that card up my sleeve if Lorenzo decides they’re not the right candidates to take over.” I squeeze her fingers as the jet starts to descend. “Once we’re on the ground, I’ll give him a call and let him know we’re on our way. Don’t worry. It’s all under control.”

She nods, her nervousness hidden behind her confident posture as she sits back in her seat. It’s her eyes that betray her. She’s anxious, and our upcoming meeting is merely the prelude to our venture.

The danger begins in Denver.

“I believe you.” She turns her attention to the window, the ground creeping closer beneath us.

As soon as the wheels hit the tarmac, I pull out my cell and dial Lorenzo’s number.

“Figlio,” he greets in thick Italian.

“We’ve just arrived in town. I need to see you.”

There’s a pause. A sigh. “I assume the late notice means it’s not a casual visit.”

“No. This is important.”

“In that case, come to the house after lunch.”

A faint vibration carries from somewhere in the cabin. Somewhere along the sofa-style seat to my right where my brothers are.

I glare. Then shoot a glance at Bishop, who’s already doing the same.

They said their phones were off. That there was no way for them to be tracked.

“This can’t wait,” I tell Lorenzo. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Now isn’t a good time, Matthew.”

My anger increases as Salvatore nudges Remy in the ribs, the incriminating cell still vibrating.

“Make it a good time,zio. We’re already on our way.” I disconnect the call, pocket the device, and pin my youngest brother with a scowl. “I thought your phones were turned off.”

“They are. But—”

“But what, asshole?” Bishop stands, the jet bobbing as it taxis through the airport. “You’ve risked our safety.”

They’ve riskedhersafety, and the potential threat to Layla’s life is inexcusable.

“Answer it,” I snarl. “Put it on speaker.”

“Only Abri has this number.” Remy retrieves the device from inside his suit jacket. “Nobody else knows it exists.”

“Answer it,” I repeat.

“Okay. Fine. No problem.” He taps the screen. “Hey, Abri. What’s up?”

“Where are you?” she asks.

“Still in Charleston. Why?”

“You have to come home. The gala is on this afternoon and I don’t trust the men Dad has arranged for my security. I’m freaking out.” She’s rambling, her words building in pace. “I don’t think I can do this again. I’m so sick of his goddamn shit, Remy.”

Do what?I frown at Salvatore in question.

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