"You wanted to be found out by us?" I scowl before another thought occurs to me, "You hoped we’d make you an offer to work with us?"
"That's what I had calculated," he nods.
"You took a risk." I rub the back of my neck. Should I believe him? Is he telling the truth? "You willingly put yourself in danger. Why?"
"It seemed like my best shot," Antonio says simply.
I glare at him, "That's not the only reason, is it?"
He hesitates.
"I am calling the cops," I threaten.
"You wouldn't," Antonio growls. For the first time, he seems shaken. Good.
"Try me," I drawl.
He glances at Gigi, then back at me.
Anger crowds my mind. "That's it," I snap, reach for my phone.
"Wait," he mutters.
I keep my fingers poised over the keypad.
He sits up straight, places the fingertips of his hands together. "Nina," he says, his voice shorn of all emotion, "I did it for her."
"For Nina?" I frown, "Explain."
"I promised Nina that her friend would be taken care of, and I thought you would do that, but you’re an idiot—”
I growl.
He holds up his hands in supplication, “The point is, you weren’t taking care of her, and I needed to make sure that you did. That’s what triggered the idea of Victoria's kidnapping..." He shrugs, "You went through a similar experience," he meets my gaze—the fucker actually looks me in the eye—and says, "and you needed something drastic to—I don’t know—make you realize that you were fucking things up."
My vision tunnels; the blood pounds in my temples. Only when my fist connects with the side of his face do I realize that I have closed the distance between us. His head snaps back and blood erupts from his mouth.
"That's for putting Victoria's life in danger, you bastard."
He chuckles, wipes the blood from his face and looks around the room, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
The fuck? I raise my fist again.
Weston grabs my shoulder. "Let him be."
"No," I growl. "You heard what he said. Asshole's fucking with me."
"He's illustrating how emotions can make you lose your cool to the point that they trip you up," Weston cautions.
"Weston's right," Sinner adds.
"The fuck I care about that?" I snarl.
"Fucker's methods are unconventional," Weston agrees, "but damn , if it didn't work, right?"
Gigi makes a sound somewhere between a cry and a laugh. "He got through to you, Saint. I was never in any danger, and besides," she steps forward, "he did it for Nina."
I straighten, make to swing at Antonio again, but Gigi grabs my arm. "Please, Saint, he put his life at risk for Nina, and that has to mean something."
Fuck, if that negates how he'd threatened Gigi's life, but if she says... Well, then... I draw in a breath. "This Nina," I say, trying to piece things together, "she's important to you?"
"I already told you she is." His dark gaze grows inscrutable. "It's why I'll take this deal with you."
"So, you’re agreeing to spy on the Mafia and help us track down who was responsible for the kidnapping when we were kids?"
He nods, "It won’t be easy, but I have some ideas."
"Life’s not easy," I glower.
"If something goes wrong..." he glances at the other two, then at me, "If they discover I’ve turned on them, I need you to promise get Nina out."
Victoria squeezes my hand.
"For my wife," I growl, "I’ll do it for her."
He jerks his chin, "Guess we have an agreement then."
"What about the USB you appropriated?"
"The Mafia wants it back." He tucks his elbows into his side.
"The fuck would they want that for?" I rub the back of my neck.
He raises his shoulders, "My guess is that the USB is marked in some form that can help them trace it back to its owner. They want it to help track down the snitch who sent it to you." He cracks his neck. "I’m only the messenger in this. Suffice to say, it's my ticket to get back in with them."
I scowl.
Antonio continues, "As for Victoria..."
I growl.
He raises his hands, "I let her go—doesn't mean the Mafia won’t change their mind and come after her."
"You focus on your mission," I lean forward on the balls of my feet, "I'll take care of what's mine."
Victoria tugs on my sleeve.
I turn to her. Her face is pale.
"You okay?"
She presses a hand to her belly; sweat beads her upper lip,
"Victoria!" My heart begins to thud, "What's wrong?"
"I…I’m not sure." She pitches forward.
51
Saint
"It's my fault." I drag my fingers through my hair, "I didn't get to her in time, and now she's in there struggling for her life."
I dig the heels of my boots into the carpet, survey the bland surroundings of the waiting room in the hospital—the same hospital where Weston had been admitted earlier.
"Now, let's not jump to conclusions," Sinclair squeezes my shoulder. "Let's wait for the doc's verdict.” He continues, “By the way, in case you were wondering, I cleared things up with Antonio—"
“I wasn’t.”
“Nevertheless, I removed the bug on the USB and sent him on his way.”
I ignore him, "What's taking them so long in there?"
"Uh, the fact that you insisted Weston be present as they examine her?"
"They should be used to it by now," I mutter. "Besides, it's Weston's hospital, isn't it? And he was already with us. They can damn well do as he says...and me, for that matter.”
"Not that I don’t understand the sentiment," Sinclair sprawls in his seat, his suit none the worse for wear. "But...even I know better than to get in the way of doctors and such fine professionals who are specialists in their field."
"Easy for you to say." I squeeze my fingers into my sides, "If that had been Summer in there..."
His jaw flexes. "Fine," he purses is lips, "what's your point?"
"My point is..." I draw a blank. Run my finger around
