Page 149 of Dirty Mafia Torment
Luna snaps her fingers, catching everyone’s attention. “Puoi continuare a discutere più tardi? Ho fame.” She’s tired of them arguing and wants to eat.
I offer her my hand across the table. “You must be Luna. I’m Renzo Beneventi.”
Confusion shifts across her expression.
“Cut the bullshit,” Dante grinds out. “Everyone knows you’re fluent in English.”
She straightens, shoulders back. “Everyone knows you’ve a huge dick. It’s your brain size that’s questionable.”
Dante’s killed more men than he’s fucked women, yet she flashes him a smile, then ignores him to accept my hand. “I hope you’re less of an asshole than your twin.”
I smirk. “There’s got to be a fucking good story why you’re here.”
Dante rolls his eyes.
Massimo grunts. “She came to save him.”
“No shit?” I reply. Well, damn. The ice-cold killer’s cheeks are pink.
“Charged in here, a one-woman cavalry show, and demanded I release him.”
I grin at Dante. “Why’d she do that?”
“She,” Luna growls, “got tired of waiting for you”—she waves a finger at me—“to savehis sorry ass.”
Enough said.
“You see the footage?” Dante asks between bites, eyes sharp. “Same men. Same style.”
“Same transportation,” Massimo adds.
“They use utility vans every time. Park them far from cameras,” Dante says, his tone grim, as if he’s been more co-conspirator than prisoner. By kidnapping him, Massimo sent a message—he wanted everyone to believe war was looming. Feeding into the game set by whoever is behind this.
“And the plates?”
Massimo shakes his head. “What plates?”
My father’s men won’t get far, then.
“Fiat Ducato vans,” Luna adds.
I stop midbite, dread coiling up inside. Vans…
We look to Luna.
“The FIAT emblems were removed, but you can tell by the hubcaps.”
Dante slams his fist on the table. “We’ve been scrolling through these videos for a week. Why didn’t you say something?”
“You told me silence was golden.”
“Didn’t stop her from speaking,” Massimo growls.
I relay everything to my father.
Fiat Ducato vans. Check hubcaps.
Then stop short. “What color?”
