Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(96)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can assure you that if you storm my sister’s home like you own the place, you might not like what Vasily does.”

Alberto smiled then—small and dark. “I think you will soon come to find you have no idea what your father will do.”

Kaz felt the brief urge to reach for the gun at his back, but he beat it down. It would do him no good at that moment, given the weapons still trained on him.

“Two minutes,” Alberto continued, “and she had better be clothed.”

“I told you—”

Alberto held up a hand, stopping Kaz. “I may not like your kind, but there is one thing we Russians and Italians have in common in our business, and that is learned respect. You have, in the highest of regards, disrespected me, Kazimir. And you will either bring me what is mine, or I will take it from you.”

Kaz’s fist clenched with the need to strike another man. He had the feeling that hitting Alberto would not end as well as it had when he hit the man’s son.

“She’s not yours,” Kaz said cooly.

She was his.

Alberto sighed, passing another look over Kaz’s shoulder. It took all Kaz had not to turn around and make sure his sister and Violet weren’t watching from the windows where they could be seen.

“Topina,” Alberto called loudly, “venire. Now.”

Kaz didn’t move, he barely even breathed. He wasn’t sure what the Italian had said, but it couldn’t have been too threatening, considering it was only a couple of words.

When Alberto didn’t get the desired reaction from within the house that he clearly wanted, his calm mask slipped a bit when his gaze narrowed.

“Fine, Violet,” Alberto said, still loud enough to carry over the yard and into the dark house. “We will do this your way, ragazza. Il prossimo scatola apparterrà al suo cuore.”

“What did you just say?” Kaz demanded.

Alberto said nothing to Kaz, simply held his hand down to his side, and opened his palm to his still groaning son. “Take my hand and get up off the ground, Carmine. I have let you whimper down there long enough. Any more and you will turn into a sniveling puppy. Get up. Adesso.”

By the time Carmine was on his feet again, his broken jaw being cradled by his hand, Alberto’s attention was back on the front door of the house.

“Twenty seconds, Violet,” Alberto informed like he was breaking bread. “I have the knife already sharpened, dolcezza.”

Kaz’s brows drew together at his words, trying to understand what the man was getting at, but he didn’t have time to ponder it for long, not when Violet came running out of the house, frantic eyes on her father even as she stopped next to Kaz.

He didn’t think he had ever seen her look so torn.

But he didn’t reach for her … merely stood at her side. Whatever choice she made, he wasn’t going to force her hand either way.

“Violet,” Alberto said, his tone having softened as he offered his hand. “It’s time to leave.”

Her eyes shifted over the men, as though seeing them all for the first time. Kaz was sure that she would have tucked her head, walked away with them, and accepted whatever punishment her father saw fit for her relationship with him—at least until he felt her fingers slide against his, twining them as she held tight.

“I’m not leaving.”

Kaz was careful to keep his face neutral, though the surprise he felt internally was reflected on Alberto’s face as he turned to face his daughter, like he had never considered that she would defy him.

Alberto was still trying to maintain that calm demeanor though his eyes spoke a different story as he said, “Do not push me on this. Get in the car. Now.”

But even still, she remained next to Kaz, her hand in his.

She refused to move.

Not after he asked again, then asked once more.

One minute Alberto was content with merely asking, but in the next breath, all decorum fled as he snatched Violet by the arm, thick fingers digging into her flesh, enough to make her wince in pain as he attempted to draw her to his side.

Except, she had barely taken two steps before Kaz had his own gun in hand, the barrel pointed straight at one of the men in the state that he really shouldn’t pull a gun on.

He could feel everyone tense as they waited. A made man pulling a gun on their boss could potentially be a death sentence, but the enemy doing it?

He was practically asking to die.

“Let her go before me pulling this trigger is the last thing you see.”

Alberto wasn’t afraid, not that Kaz had expected him to be, but he thought he might have seen a touch of admiration in the man’s eyes. “If only you were Italian, my boy. Now, you would be wise to move that gun out of my face.”

Kaz’s arm didn’t even twitch as he repeated himself, saying, “Let her go.”

When Alberto’s gaze shifted just slightly, Kaz was too late to see the fist coming his way. Blood filled his mouth almost instantly, and he could feel the sting of his split lip. He could hear Violet screaming, the sound of it felt like it was tearing him apart—he only belatedly realized it was his name she was yelling.

The hits still rained down on him, but Kaz no longer cared, swinging his arm, he brought the butt of his weapon across the man’s face. But he didn’t linger to see his good work, instead he headed to the street, walking into the center where the car was now trying to pass.