2. Sal

I found her.

I can kid myself and pretend that the thrill of the chase isn't important to me, but that would be a lie. I have been looking for Gia for two weeks, and the entire time, I've loved it.

The haze of the past few weeks is gone.

Instead, I feel sharp. Alive. Like I'm ready to hunt Gia across the world.

Like I'm ready to follow her wherever she goes.

Of course, she's not in Amsterdam. The second Elio told me that he thought she was, I shook my head.

I had been in Paris, keeping tabs on another Russian businessman.

Elio had called, telling me that Gia would need help for this meeting.

I had protested it. I had fought it in my mind.

But I would never, ever be able to walk away from helping Gia if she needed it.

My chest feels like it's heaving, like I ran all the way from Paris to Prague. I vaguely hear the door click behind me as I close it, and I warily watch Gia's thumb as it hovers near the safety on her Glock-19.

"How did you get a Glock into Prague?"

She snorts and her arm stiffens as she points it at me. "You don't think I have ways of making sure I'm well-supplied wherever I go?"

"Gia. I have no doubt. I'm just asking out of curiosity."

She gently sets it down. "The Serbians love to get chatty over a beer."

Of course they do.

I have no doubt that, were I to share a beer with those same Serbians, they'd clam up like Fort Knox.

Gia has some kind of a gift for getting people to open up to her. She's just so… Gia.

I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of all of that charm.

I fell for it, after all.

The same as the rest of them.

"So, you conned them into getting you a Glock?" Russian guns would be much more popular on this side of the world. Italian guns, even.

Getting this particular model of Glock in Europe is like importing nuclear radiation. Some are made in Switzerland, but this one is 100% US-manufactured.

It's impressive that she has it. We're gangsters, true. But there are some rules to follow.

Unless you're Gia.

"I didn't con them into getting me one. I conned them into letting it get through airport security unnoticed."

My eyebrows raise. "You didn't take the jet here?"

"And risk Elio finding out? No way. I flew business class, thanks to one of my friends who happened to need a companion on his flight from Milan to Prague," she says with a smirk.

I pretend that the reference to another man doesn't make me want to throw her over my shoulder.

Show her she's mine.

Hell. I'd leave bite marks on her skin if it showed the world that she was mine.

My Gia.

She's not yours.

The thought makes my mood sour quickly. "Why are you in Prague, Gia?"

She ignores my question.

She drifts over to the couch and pulls out the handle of vodka that's on the table. She pours two glasses and offers me one.

"I suppose congratulations are in order."

If she drugged the liquor, she didn't do it recently, and I'm hopeful she won't want to kill me. All the same, I make sure she sips her drink, visibly watching the liquid slide down her throat before I drink.

It's excellent vodka.

As it would be.

Gia's taste in the finer things is somewhat legendary. Clearly, being somewhat promoted to taking over for Elio while Caterina is pregnant hasn't rid her of that tendency.

My eyes slide over her outfit. Black Chanel shirt, made of silk. Pants that could be Versace or Valentino.

They might even just be custom-tailored. Black leather.

They hug her ass and thighs, and I suppress a shiver, thinking of the muscle she's got beneath.

Gia's sexy as hell. There's no point in denying it. She knows it. I know it.

The game we play where we both pretend like we don't is maddening.

"Elio promoted you to Nico's position," she says flatly.

I nod. "He did."

"You're here to escort me to the meeting with the Russians."

Her tone isn't flat now, but laced with something that feels a little deeper than anger. "I'm here to make sure they don't shoot you or kidnap you."

"You can stop bullets now? No wonder Elio promoted you if you can do magic."

"You know what I mean, Gia," I say with a warning. "You didn't take any of the security from the house in Rome. You didn't call on anyone from Italy. You showed up here, in a completely different city. What's the plan? You're just going to waltz in there with a smile and a song, and get the Russians to ally with us against the Irish?"

She whistles. "You got me, Sal. Excellent detective work," she winks. Gia polishes off the rest of the vodka, shutting her eyes slightly against the burn.

"I know you helped out the Russian girl in Belarus," I say softly.

"What do you mean, ‘helped?'"

"You saved her," I concede.

She did do that.

But at what cost?

Gia pre-Belarus was… an experience. She was smart. Sexy. She used both to her advantage, working over Elio's enemies so that they'd give her the kind of information he could build an empire on.

Gia post-Belarus?

Everything that she was before, she is now, but with an edge. She's dangerous. Hard, dysregulated in a way that she had never been before.

The Gia I pulled out of that burning warehouse in the middle of the countryside hadn't been the Gia who had gone in.

If only I had just been there ten minutes earlier. If I had known about the plot around Anastasia just a day earlier. I could have helped her then. I could have kept them from finding out, kept them from the warehouse.

I could have kept Gia from emerging from the flames as… this.

Her eyes glint. "I did save her. So, they owe me."

Technically, she's right. The Russians owe her a favor for rescuing Anastasia Novikov, the daughter of their boss.

But they also owed Elio that same favor.

And whatever the Irish had on them… it outweighed the favor of saving her life.

So that, more than anything, made them dangerous as hell.

"You need backup in case they decide they don't want you after all."

She snorts. "And Elio sent you as the backup."

I don't respond to her jab. "Yes. He did."

As he should have. Not only am I more lethal than anyone else in his organization right now, but he knows that with Gia, I'll do anything to save her.

Anything to protect her.

I made that clear to him when I begged him to send me to Europe to get away from her.

Unfortunately, the ocean between us hadn't' been enough. Life had a way of throwing Gia back in my face.

And I was not going to turn her away.

"I don't need you," she snorts.

She grabs the Glock off the table again, inspecting it like she's looking for a weakness. I know she won't find one.

If there's one thing Gia likes more than clothes, it's designer guns. She makes sure they're ready to go, ready to fire, and takes great pride in keeping all of her weapons clean.

"Yes, you do," I say softly.

Gia checks her weapon, the sound of the magazine clicking into place loudly in the room. "No, I don't."

"What the hell are you doing in Prague, Gia?"

"None of your fucking business, Salvatore."

The use of my full name is like a hot poker to my anger. "Don't you fucking ‘Salvatore' me, Gianna."

Her nostrils flare.

I shouldn't think that is so goddamn sexy. I really shouldn't.

I'm fucked though because I think everything about Gia is sexy.

When I think about her, everything in me goes on high alert. I'm aware of her movements every time she makes them, like I have sort of stupid Gia radar.

When she breathes, my chest expands.

When she talks, I listen.

I hate how I am drawn to her. She's the sun, and I'm some kind of stupid space rock that's stuck in her orbit.

Now, I can never leave.

"You cannot walk into that meeting with the Russians alone."

"I have walked into every business deal, situation, and meeting alone!" she snaps. "Why on earth do you and my fucking soft-hearted brother think I need protection now? Why, after all this time, do I need a babysitter?"

"You don't need a babysitter!" I roar. "You need backup!"

"Like hell!"

In the time that our argument has escalated, we're inches away from each other.

This close, I can smell the expensive perfume that she has custom-made for herself. I can see the redness spotting her cheeks from where blood is flowing to her skin.

She's actually angry at me.

Gia is angry at me.

As though I'm the one who dismissed us. Like I'm the one who told her to fuck off.

I step closer until our noses almost touch.

It would take me one motion to kiss her. I wouldn't have to move more than five muscles to do so.

But kissing her…

It would change everything.

We've been here so many times. Right at the edge, somewhere between friends and…

More.

And neither one of us has leaned forward.

This is familiar territory.

But I'm not going to be the one to cross into something else.

Not unless she's there with me.

I can tell Gia is thinking the same thing. Her brown eyes search mine, begging, questioning.

Raging.

Finally, she steps back. She snaps the Glock's safety on and tucks the gun into her purse. She spins to look at me.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine," she repeats. "If you're going to follow me around like a fucking puppy, then let's go."

"Where the hell are we going, Gia?" It's almost midnight. Surely, she's not going to head out now for some kind of hare-brained thing…

"You want to know why I'm in Prague, Sal?"

"You're fucking right I do."

"I'm here to find your brother's body."

With that statement, my world shatters again.

* * *

"You don't knowhe's dead."

Gia glances around, but the streets around us are empty. I made sure of that before I asked the question.

Her words have been banging around in my mind, however, for the past fifteen minutes. All the way out of the hotel, into the streets of Prague, I hear them echo, like they're stuck on repeat in my brain.

To find your brother's body.

Marco isn't dead.

He can't be dead.

There's just no way that Marco De Luca, the head of the De Luca family and my oldest brother, is dead.

My whole life, my brother Marco has been something of an enigma.

He's part brother, part father, part boss. He's been in control of the De Luca family since our parents died at Caterina's engagement party six years ago.

But, even prior to that, Marco was always the one in charge of Dino and me.

He's never been just a brother.

Or maybe he's just the ultimate mob boss.

I'm inclined to think that.

He was never a kid; Marco walked out of the hospital in a full three-piece suit, cell phone glued to his ear, making deals with shipping magnates the world over. It doesn't make sense to me to picture Marco as irresponsible or childish.

Or dead.

I don't know how to live in a world without Marco in it.

"Think about it, Sal," she whispers, glancing up at me.

Gia may be significantly shorter than I am, but she makes up for it in attitude. The ten-inch height difference doesn't seem to matter at all, and sometimes, I feel like she's actually the one towering over me.

It makes me feel challenged. Like I have to be worthy of her.

Until recently, I loved that feeling.

"Yeah, I've thought about it. He can't be dead."

She tucks her head on my shoulder, clearly playing up the vision that we're just two lovers out for a late-night stroll.

Inside my chest, my heart burns.

"There's no way that he could have dropped off the face of the earth otherwise. You and I would have heard about it."

"You're assuming we would have," I say quietly.

"We would have. There is nothing that sneaks by both of us."

"You didn't know about Luna," I venture.

Her head pops up off my shoulder, fast enough that I need to dodge it in order to keep my nose from breaking. "I knew one of you had a child. I just didn't know who."

I raise an eyebrow. "Did you think it was me?"

She puts her head back on my shoulder and motions us to walk forward. "I didn't know who it was," she says, slightly defensive.

Interesting.

"Who did you think it was?"

"Dino," she says.

"Why?"

"He's shady as hell."

I don't want to laugh at that. Dino is shady as hell, always has been. It's not funny now, knowing what I know about how he sold us out, how he got Marco kidnapped, or…

I refuse to think of anything else.

"Why didn't you think it was me?"

She snorts. "You wouldn't get a girl pregnant and walk away."

"No?"

"No, Sal. You're too honorable for that. If you had a bastard, you'd marry the mom and try to make it work."

I can't tell if she approves, or if the fact repulses her.

And I don't care either way.

"Marco isn't dead," I repeat, shoving the knot of feelings down in my stomach.

"He's dead. There's no other explanation."

"What if…?"

"None," she says firmly.

We walk in silence for a minute. I let Gia tug me through the streets, pulling me this way and that until we're in an alley. There's a door in front of us, and loud music seems to pulse inside.

I turn. "A club?"

"This is the club that Marco last visited," she whispers. "An Irish guy told me about this two weeks ago."

"Under what circumstances?" I know Gia's preferred method of extorting information, and I bristle at the thought.

"I took out his organs until he saw reason."

I relax slightly. "Oh."

She raises an eyebrow. "You were worried I fucked him."

"No, Gia. You're free to fuck whoever you please."

"You're goddamn right I am," she says.

But her eyes shutter like I said something disappointing.

I'm definitely disappointed by the reaction.

And the reminder.

Gia's free to fuck whoever she likes.

And that doesn't include me.

Against the sour feeling in my stomach, I nod. "As I said. You're free to do whatever you want."

She studies me for a minute. "Marco has to be dead, Sal. There's no other explanation. The Irish man said that he saw Marco here, four weeks ago."

I do some mental calculations. Four weeks ago, Marco had dropped off the face of the earth. That was basically when we found Dino, and he had revealed that Marco was involved in something shady that he didn't want the family to know about.

Dino had ratted us out because of it.

My heart clenched. Could there be some truth to what Gia thought?

I shook my head. "No. He can't be. There's just no way."

"Sal, you have to agree…"

"I don't," I snap. "I don't agree, Gia. Marco can't be dead. There's no way that my brother is dead." My voice is hoarse by the time I'm done.

Pity, and sadness, flicker in her eyes. "Sal…"

"What else did he say," I snarl.

She sighs. "The Irishman said that Marco was here under refuge."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. But I figured that if we can find out what he was looking for, we can probably find him."

I nod. "And you want to go into the meeting with the Russians knowing what happened to Marco."

"If they did it, or if they had anything to do with it, we need to know before they do," she whispers.

It's smart.

If the Russians killed Marco and we're surprised by the news at the meeting, it's likely that our response would be pretty emotional. Emotional responses mean irrational actions, and if we act irrationally and hurt them, then they can get out of the favor they owe Gia for rescuing Anastasia.

God, she's so fucking smart I can't believe it.

Elio's great.

I like him as Caterina's husband, and while I think he's a stubborn idiot, I see how good he is for her. He's definitely intelligent—both he and Marco went to Harvard Business School.

But in this world, you don't need that type of intelligence. You don't need to know how to lead a corporation.

You need to know how to rule a kingdom.

Gia is that kind of smart. She's calculating, ruthless. She knows exactly what she's doing, and she's usually planned out six other moves she can make to get to her goal.

It's just another thing that I find so attractive about her.

But if she thinks Marco is dead…

I shut out the thought.

No matter what, even if he's not dead, he was here. He was at this bar in Prague, and he was searching for something.

She's right.

"Okay," I say quietly, nodding at the door. "Let's do this."

Gia smiles. It's the kind of smile that's predatory. Her pink lips part around her white teeth, and they gleam in the dim lamplight.

"Stay behind me," she warns.

I roll my eyes.

I have Gia's back. Whether she likes it or not.

I always have.

And I always will.