Page 126 of Brutal Vows
She folds her hands in her lap and crosses her legs. “Then I guess it will have to be a surprise.”
We drive through the city center to an industrial area near the docks. It’s crammed with warehouses and shipping containers waiting to be filled and sent across the Atlantic. We pull up in front of one of them, a big white brick building with bars over the windows, and Kieran parks.
Looking out the window at the parking lot, Reyna appears bored.
The stubborn woman won’t ask me where we are.
But when I say, “You’ll want a gun for this,” she whips her head around and stares at me.
“For what?”
“We’re meeting with the heads of the other four Mafia families.”
Ah, that look of shock on her face is so bloody satisfying, heat rushes to my balls.
“Why?”
“Dunno. They called the meet. You tell me.”
Obviously unsettled, she frowns. “There’s supposed to be a vote for the new capo.”
“So why isn’t Gianni here?”
“How do you know he isn’t?”
“They told us he wasn’t invited.”
She ponders that in silence, then shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s the head of the family. And the vote wassupposed to happen tomorrow, not today.” She glances out the window again, this time with a wary expression. “Mamma said he didn’t go to the reception. He never went back to the hotel last night, either.”
Declan’s already told me about the vote and that Gianni was missing from the reception, but the news about him not going back to the hotel is new.
In our world, when someone goes missing, it only means one of a few things.
None of them are good.
From the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat, I remove a handgun. I check to ensure there’s a round in the barrel, then hold it out to Reyna. “You know how to shoot a Glock?”
“It can’t be that hard. You know how to do it.” She takes the gun from my hand.
When I shrug out of my suit jacket, she says, “What are you doing now?”
“You’re not walking into a room full of made men looking like that.”
She says coyly, “Like what?”
I give her a hard stare. “Put on the goddamn jacket.”
She thinks about arguing, but apparently decides better of it. She shrugs and slips the jacket on, rolling up the cuffs.
“Button it.”
She levels me with a look, but I’m in no mood for sass.
“To the top.”
“I want you to know the only reason I’m wearing your jacket is because I don’t have anywhere to stash the gun in this minuscule dress you bought me.”
“Too bad you forgot to bring your bag of skulls. You could’ve put it in there.”
