Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Why the fuck would my sister know about you meeting with Santoro? What did you drag her into, Quinn?” Simon’s pacing now. He reminds me a lot of his sister when he does that, and I wonder if it’s a family trait. Except Davide’s standing like a statue, so maybe not.
“Because I told her about it a few days back. She’ll confirm my story.”
“How about you tell me that story now before I lose my fucking patience. The only reason you’re not sliced and beaten is out of respect for my sister.”
I don’t bother pointing out that I was beaten, since I kind of deserved it. “She already told you that I was planning something. Well, I’ve been keeping it to myself, because the fewer people that know, the safer I am.” And then I proceed to spill it all, starting at the beginning. Simon listens, occasionally glancing over at Davide, who remains utterly still. When I’m done, Simon’s scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“This whole thing is some double-agent bullshit? You’re tricking Santoro into exposing himself?”
“I’m taking a massive risk here, but if it works, it’ll solve a whole lot of problems. Think about it, Simon. With Santoro arrested, you’ll be able to pick apart the rest of his organization in weeks, and then the war will be over. He might be able to run his family from behind bars, but you can always hire someone to shank the prick in the showers. This will effectively strip him of his power for good.”
There’s a bang on the door upstairs and Elena comes running down the steps. When she spots me, she gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. She runs over and kneels down by my side and starts untying the ropes.
“What the fuck did you do?” she hisses at her brother.
“He saw me with Santoro,” I say gently. When my wrists are free, I put a hand on her arm and squeeze it. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay.”
Simon looks pained as he processes, and it’s Davide who comes forward. “Can you confirm his story?” he asks.
“He told me everything a few days ago. It’s true, he’s been meeting with Santoro, but he’s doing it to take him down.”
I finally feel relieved when Davide nods and comes over to help finish freeing me from the chair. He helps me to my feet and pats my back. “No hard feelings,” he grunts.
Elena answers for me. “Definitely hard feelings. You guys can’t kidnap my freaking husband.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her and hope that Davide understands. “If I were in your position, I would’ve done the same thing.”
“But this is a new problem,” Simon says from his spot near the torture devices. “You’re running an extremely tricky op on Santoro, and you’re doing it without any help. You’re basically begging to fuck this up.”
“He’s not wrong,” Davide says.
“Santoro is too smart,” I tell them, rubbing the back of my head. There’s an ugly fucking lump. “If he caught even a whiff of anything off, he would’ve killed me and backed out in a heartbeat. If any of you had known, you would’ve sent guys to follow us, or insisted on wiring me, or even just put some stupid fucking ideas in my head. You would’ve ruined it for me, and I’d have a hole in my chest right now. I don’t regret not telling you. Although I wish you hadn’t concussed me.”
“We’re going to have a talk later,” Elena hisses at her brother.
Simon ignores her. “I need more details of this plan. I want times, places, everything you have. Brody, I knew something was up, but fucking this—” He takes a deep breath. “You’re asking for a lot of trust.”
“It’s too late now,” Davide says and shakes his head as he heads to the stairs. “The damage is done. Now we might as well let it play out.” And with that proclamation, he exits the basement.
There’s a drain on the ground beneath the chair I was sitting in, and I wonder how close I just came to these guys cutting off pieces of my body.
“We’ll sit down and talk,” Elena says and jabs a finger at her brother. “But you’re coming to our place.”
“Fine,” he says, sounding tired. “I guess I just made family time fucking awkward.”
I grin and slap him on the back as we walk past. “No worries, Don Bianco, so long as you don’t put a black bag over my head ever again.”
“No promises,” he mutters as he follows us back to our house.
Chapter 42
Brody
It’s a black night in the deepest southern tip of Chicagoland. This place is practically the suburbs, one small step away from being a bunch of farms. The city’s slow creep will eventually overtake it as development stretches out, the long arms of developer money raking up as much land as physically possible like it’s about to run out. And it might one day.