Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Julien is the only man in the entire city that could ever get away with smoking in a place like this.
“You want to endlessly discuss what happened with Marco, and I’m just done with it.” I turn my coffee cup in tight circles. “He made his choice. He fell in love with a Bianco and decided to turn his back on us after he was the one who built the whole damn alliance to begin with. Now it’s done and we can move on.”
“Merde,” Julien says with a sigh. “I know you’re right. I just don’t like what happened to Adam. Murdered by the fucking Biancos.”
“Murdered while he was trying to do his own murdering. I’d call that self-defense.”
“Now you defend them? The Italian fucks?”
I wave his anger away. “You know how I feel about the Biancos. Fuck them. I’m just saying, Adam wasn’t exactly innocent.”
“Merde,” Julien says again. “I’ve been thinking about how it all went down a lot, but Dusan won’t speak with me, Marco’s a traitor, Adam’s dead, which leaves only you, my least favorite Irishman.”
“Quit flirting with me, Julien.”
He rubs his nose and mutters more curses in French. “You are very hard to talk to sometimes.”
“I’m waiting for you to get to the point. Why did you want to have this meeting?”
Julien takes one last drag and drops his cigarette into the remains of his espresso. It hisses and goes out. “I want to talk to Valentina Santoro.”
It takes a lot of effort to school my expression. I hadn’t expected him to bring her up. She was a part of our little alliance-slash-conspiracy, but only ever in an outside sort of way. I suspect she was the one coming up with the ideas and pushing them through Marco, but I have no way to prove that.
Still, I don’t like that Julien’s looking for her. “Why do you want to do that?” I ask him.
“She was there that night,” he says, lowering his voice and leaning closer. “Marco warned the Biancos, and that’s why they got the drop on Adam. But how do we know she wasn’t involved?”
“She hates the Biancos more than we do. They killed her father, destroyed her Famiglia, and ruined her life. Or did you forget about all that?”
“People do stupid things.” He leans back, arms crossed. “Have you seen her or what? Do you know how I can get in touch? I want to have a conversation with the girl.”
All the hairs on my neck are standing straight up. Julien comes off like a soft little Frenchie fuck, but he’s a vicious killer, and I don’t trust him anywhere near Valentina. Especially if he thinks she had a hand in getting Adam killed.
“I have no idea,” I lie and shrug my shoulders. “Only ever talked to her when Marco was around.”
“If you see her, tell me, yes? I just have questions that are bothering me, that’s all.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Julien changes the subject, and I let him, but I’m extremely bothered by the time we’re done talking. He bids me farewell in his dumb French way and I hurry down the block to where Seamus is waiting in a town car. I give him Valentina’s address, not sure why, but suddenly I need to check in on her.
“Wait for me down here,” I tell him once he parks outside her building. I head inside, pausing only to make sure I’m not being followed. The place is ratty with no real security to speak of, and a part of me wants to find her a better place to live now that she can afford it. The chop shop is doing good business, and I suspect she’ll be very pleased with her ten percent cut.
I knock on her door. No response. I think of the look on Julien’s face—dark and brooding—and the implication that she was involved in the death of a prominent gang leader. I knock harder, and still no answer.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself and pick her lock.
She thinks I’m a smiling idiot. I know that, and frankly, it’s part of the mask I wear. Let my enemies think I’m a vapid idiot with no real substance. It surprises me that Valentina hasn’t seen through it yet, but I think she’s just too prejudiced to realize.
I can be clever. I have my own talents and skills.
The door pops open easy enough and I’m inside.
The place looks—a lot better. There are books on the coffee table and a framed painting hanging over the couch. The fruit bowl on the kitchen table has actual fruit in it. I look around for any signs that Julien found her and broke in here, but the place looks tidy.
The bathroom door opens, and she comes out wearing nothing more than a threadbare, skimpy fucking towel wrapped around her middle, and she screams.