Page 10 of Heart's Temptation
“I thought you were my twin,” I rebutted.
“Yeah, from another mother.” He laughed at his joke. Although Tony, Tano, and Massimo had the Vitale last name, they were once Di Mauros, until my parents adopted them after theirs died.
We were brothers, and the same age, but it was more than our family bond and age that made us close. It was a long friendship from the very first. I didn’t have a childhood memory without Tony in it. He and Marko were my best friends. I knew without a doubt that neither of them would ever be disloyal. The family, of course, would never turn on their own, but that bond of friendship was key to keeping the human part of myself alive.
“I’m asking if you know where Marko is.”
I felt a chill move down my spine. Was Marko in trouble? I’d taken him at his word when he said he was with a friend who needed help, but that was five days ago, and he hadn’t checked in since. I could use our IT to track him and tell me exactly where he was, but I’d never needed to before and was loathe to now. “He’s with a friend. Why does it matter?” I leaned back on the couch and spread my arms along the top of the backrest, daring Tony to question me further. I didn’t like being on the defense, especially when I was in my place of business. I gave him a look that would have most men pissing themselves, but it didn’t have the desired effect on my brother He issued one back until our silent pissing contest was a draw and we both dropped the charade.
“Shouldn’t you be watching over Papa’s gambling empire?” I hissed.
Antonio was a number genius and our father had placed him well when he put him in charge of accounting for the Vitale empire. He also gave him our gambling operation, which was Tony’s baby. Although our babies crossed, as I ran the clubs where the gambling took place, we made sure never to step on each other’s toes.
“I am, but was wondering why Almando was overseeing operations that Marko was supposed to be overseeing, but you answered that.” My brother was saying something without actually saying it.
“Do you need Marko for something specific?”
“I needed to make a point to some stronzo who owes us money.”
“Don’t you have enforcers for that shit? Why waste Marko on something simple? Take one of the other guys.” I reached for my Disaronno and knocked it back.
He nodded his head sagely, almost absently, and again I wondered if he knew something about Marko I didn’t. I was about to ask when Fausto walked in, removed one of my arms, and sat down on the couch I kept reserved for myself. I was about to tell him off, but his expression held me back.
Antonio seemed to notice too and sat forward in his seat. “What’s going on?”
“The fucking Irish, that’s what’s going on. The Éannas are on the bloody warpath!”
Gone was my quiet, calculating brother, replaced by the barely contained beast that only reared its head for special occasions. It was only two months ago that we’d weeded out the Russians and their plan to take over the routes for the eastern seaboard, at least for now. I had no doubt another would soon pop up in place of Ivan Knyazev, the Russian mob leader who had kidnapped Gabriella.
His plan had been to steal and then sell Gaby to her birth father, a Russian Oligarch named Dmitri Peskov, and the plan had almost worked. Until my very perceptive brother, Gaetano—or Tano as we called him—figured out what was going on. We nearly lost him during the rescue, but the misfortune also brought opportunity.
Having used a skill set not connected with his role as head of Mercy hospital or as its leading surgeon, my brilliant brother realized he had things to offer within the family business and had decided to move away from his traditional roles into something that offered him way more time but still required his critical-thinking skills. He would still help the family as our personal physician.
We still didn’t know if Gaby was going back to school to finish her nursing degree. I knew if my brother had his way, she’d be chained to his bed until she was pregnant with his babies.
“What did they do?” I asked, bringing my thoughts back around to the present.
“They left this with a knife through it at the front entrance to one of our warehouses on the docks.” Fausto held out a faded, crumpled piece of paper in disgust.
I grasped the note from his hand before Tony could, and read it out loud. “We’re coming for you.” That was all it said. I frowned and looked at my brother. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. It’s just a note, and nothing implicates the Irish. Why do you assume it’s them and not the Russians?”
My personal server had been eyeballing Fausto since he sat down. I waved my hand in the air, indicating for her to bring us a round of drinks, and tried not to look pleased when she scrambled away to do my bidding. I handed the note to Tony, who also gave Tano a perplexed look.
Something dark slithered in my gut. A sense of foreboding and a feeling that we hadn’t yet heard the full story.
“Attached to the door with the note was Daro, upside down, with his blood drained.”
“What the hell?” Tony rose to his feet. “Haven’t we had peace with the Irish since Papa passed away?”
“We have,” I weighed in, “but their leader passed away several months ago without a direct heir and no instructions regarding who he wanted as a replacement. Four men within the clan have been vying for the position of top dog in their organization. I haven’t heard if there has been a vote yet as to who the new leader will be, or possibly is. We don’t have a lot of intel on the Irish.”
“We haven’t had to,” Tony agreed, “but it sounds like that is about to change.”
I shut down whatever Fausto was about to say, adding, “This is a calling card of the Irish, but every player knows it. Maybe this is a trick by another faction.”
Both my brothers sat back and contemplated my theory.
“Assuming it is who it seems to be…” Antonio steepled his fingers while he spoke. “You’re saying we still don’t know the name of the stronzo leading those feral Irish? Who can we use as a spy that they won’t recognize?”