Page 62 of Thorns of Death
“Lead the way to the garage, then,” she announced.
Why did it feel like she wanted to run away?
TWENTY
ENRICO
“And you’re sure you traced the signal to my home?”
I stood in my home back in Italy with Manuel and Kingston. My sons were safely tucked in the safe room—I had one of those in every home I owned—while we evaluated whether the threat was here. Or better yet, the signal. My men were searching every corner of the house—the undergrounds excluded since nobody but Manuel and I knew about them and we didn’t want anyone else in on that particular secret—while we were checking the electronic devices in my office.
“Yes, Marchetti,” Kingston replied dryly.
“Ignore mynipote. He’s just cranky because the lady evaded him a second time and is now hiding in Russia.”
“She’s not hiding,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes on both of them. “You want to be shot by your capo?”
“Bring it on.” Not much ruffled Kingston.
“Don’t tempt him, Kingston, or he might actually shoot us.” Manuel was having too much fun with this. “Unfortunately, this nephew of mine is an excellent shot.”
“Well, you can shoot us.” Kingston didn’t appear chastised in the least. “Or you can trust me. But if you’d like a second opinion, be my guest. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
The three of us stood in my office. The curtains on the large French windows were open, thanks to the fact that all the windows in my castello were bulletproof. The garden of dwarf lemon trees, vineyards, and the view of the Tyrrhenian Sea stretched as far as the eye could see. This was the only place I felt at peace, my favorite place in the world.
Right now, though, peace was impossible to find.
I went to the liquor cabinet. Manuel sat himself in one of the armchairs while Kingston typed away on his laptop. I poured myself a glass of bourbon, slammed the bottle hard on the tray, and went to sit behind my desk.
Breathing deeply and evenly, I attempted to keep a level head. But between Isla and the mole that was monitoring my estate, slipping details of my businesses to my enemies, I felt like I couldn’t catch a break. These were the puzzles that irked me, and I needed to solve both.
“Maybe we should go through the staff again,” Manuel suggested. “Most of the men have been part of the family for generations. Their fathers. Their grandfathers. But maybe we’ll find a weak spot.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
The pit in my stomach churned. The fact that it was taking us this long to nail down the traitor told me it wasn’t some clueless soldier or brainless twat that was doing this for money. It was bigger than that. Thisneededto be resolved, especially before I brought Isla around my men.
Letting this go and leaving this traitor in the shadows could risk everything and everyone I loved.
“How many men do you have on your payroll?” Kingston asked.
A sardonic breath left me. “Thousands. This will take time.” And I wanted Isla as my wife the moment she stepped foot out of Russia.
“Not necessarily,” Kingston reasoned. “We can easily eliminate the individuals that don’t really come around. Let’s focus only on the ones that come and go from Castello Del Mare.”
I turned this over in my head. Part of me wanted to start torturing every single one of my men until we found the culprit. Someone was helping Donatella and therefore putting Isla’s life in danger. Whoever it was, they should die for it. They threatened my whole family—my boys, my uncle, my friends, Isla. I’d be damned if I just sat and waited.
“Va bene,” I said carefully. “But anyone we suspect is to be brought into the torture wing.”
It was about time it got used again. The last man those walls had seen was Luca DiMauro.
TWENTY-ONE
ISLA
It had been almost two weeks since my brother brought Tatiana to our Russian home. Illias had disappeared to take care of some “business.” Now that I knew he was the Pakhan, his urgent businesses made sense. So it left Tatiana and me to get to know each other. As it turned out, we got along great… despite some displeasure she had toward my brother. The joys of marriage, I supposed. She behaved like my sister, and sometimes even like my mother.
I hadn’t yet decided whether I liked that or not.
