Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(74)

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 miniscule dress you bought me.”

“Too bad you forgot to bring your bag of skulls. You could’ve put it in there.”

She smiles sweetly at me. “It’s only got space for one more. I was saving it for yours.” She opens the door and gets out.

After she’s gone, Kieran looks at me in the rear view mirror. “I really like her.”

“That’s because you’ve got the common sense of a carrot.”

“Just because ye don’t know how to handle her doesn’t mean I can’t like her!”

“I know how to handle her perfectly bloody well!”

He smiles. “Sure ye do. Let me get back to ye when my eardrums have healed, and we’ll have a lovely chat all about it.”

Muttering, I exit the Escalade and walk around the back to where Reyna’s waiting. I’m all ready to have a scuffle over her not buttoning my suit jacket, but to my great surprise, she’s done it.

“Ready?”

“I’m not sure going in there alone is a good idea.”

“We won’t be alone. Everyone else is already here.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Who’s everyone?”

I can’t help the smile that lifts my lips. “You’re in the Mob now, darlin.’ You’ll never be alone again.”

A flare of emotion warms her eyes. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Either way, she looks away before I can decide.

I expect her to pull away when I take her hand, but she doesn’t. She lets me lead her from the parking lot around the side of the building to a door at the top of a ramp. A big bald man in a black suit waits at the top, his hands folded over his crotch, his legs spread apart, and his face as blank as a brick wall.

“Patrick.”

He inclines his head respectfully, greeting me in Gaelic. He also inclines his head to Reyna, but doesn’t look her in the eye. He’s three hundred pounds of pure muscle, but he can’t bring himself to gaze directly at her face.

Funny how everyone else can sense she’s a swamp witch, too.

He opens the door for us. We go inside with Kieran following. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the low light.

Standing in the middle of the shadowy, empty warehouse is a group of five men. All are in expensive dark suits. All exude an air of danger and power.

Declan’s the only one I recognize.

Standing several feet away from the group are more men in suits, but these are soldiers, not leaders. Though they’re all Italian, and I’ve never met any of them, I can spot the difference a mile away.

Lining the walls of the warehouse are our lads.

I wonder how many of them are nursing nasty hangovers from last night.

Declan turns, sees us, and lifts his chin. Hand in hand, we slowly walk toward him.

Under her breath, Reyna says, “The one with all the hair to the left of Declan is Massimo, head of the DeLuca family. He’s clever, but he can’t be trusted. He’s only out for himself. To the right is Tomasi Berlasconi. He’s as dumb as a rock. Next to him in the dark gray suit is Alessandro Ricci. He’s a good man. Brilliant strategist. Enzo used to call him the General. In the pinstripe is Aldo LaRosa.”

The tense note that crept into her tone when she said that last name makes me look at her. “What about him?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Tell me now.”

She hesitates. “He can’t be trusted, either.”

I’d press her for more details, but we’ve crossed the warehouse and are now standing in front of the group. Kieran stands off to the side with our men.

Relaxed and smiling, Declan says, “Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. Sorry to interrupt your morning.”

I expect Reyna to make a smart remark, but she maintains her composure and simply says, “Good morning, Declan.” Then she greets each of the Italians by name in turn.

She receives respectful murmurs in response.

Declan gestures to the group. “These lads would like a word with you, Reyna.”

He strolls away, lighting a cigarette.

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be summoned to an abandoned warehouse on a Sunday morning in front of the leaders of the Mafia and dozens more armed men without a clue as to the reason why, she smiles and says calmly, “Of course. What can I do for you gentlemen?”