11. Valentina

Chapter 11

Valentina

M y apartment feels small and way too quiet after the noise of Ronan’s family. I put on music to fill the silence but that only helps a little bit. I never noticed how isolated I’ve become, and it’s starting to grate against my nerves.

Back in the day, I was outgoing. I had friends at school, I went to parties, I even dated a few guys for a while before my dad inevitably scared them away. But as I got deeper into the family business, my social world got smaller until almost everyone I saw on a given day was in the Famiglia.

I can look back and see how isolating that was, especially now that I don’t have anyone left.

I throw myself into work instead. I don’t go crawling through the dirt like I did last time, but I poke around online for as much information on the Capos on my list as I can. Marco taught me a lot of this computer stuff—he’s a bastard, but he’s also one of the most talented tech guys I’ve ever met, and I guess some of that filtered into my brain despite my best efforts.

It takes all day, but in the end, I settle on two men worth checking out: Rocco Ferrero and Matteo Ricci.

I remember Rocco. He was always loud and outgoing, one of those stereotypical mafioso with a big personality and an enormous appetite. Dad never liked him much, but he was a good earner.

Matteo was a newly made Capo in the last year before my father died. I didn’t get to know him, but I remember rumors about him being ruthless and single-minded, almost to a fault.

I meet with Ronan a few days later at Bloody Strike. It’s another gray Chicago morning, and I’m relieved when the place isn’t filled with shirtless guys sparring. Instead, it’s only Seamus and Niall, plus Ronan making coffee behind the bar.

“Lovely seeing you again,” Niall says as I join them. Seamus gives me a polite nod and goes back to hunching over his phone. “Don’t mind my surly cousin there. He’s got a problem with Italians.”

“He’s working on that,” Ronan says, giving Seamus a hard look, who just ignores them both.

“It’s all right. I have a thing against Irish too, but we’re all moving past our prejudices for the sake of the family, right?” I give Ronan a sweet smile and he laughs as he passes me some coffee.

“What do you have for me, love?”

As I open up the folder I put together on Rocco, it occurs to me that Ronan’s little pet name hasn’t been bothering me as much lately. Which I don’t particularly enjoy.

I give him the rundown on Rocco’s profile. Niall’s half listening and Seamus seems like he’s oblivious to everything but whatever’s on his screen. Ronan remains on the other side of the bar, paying close attention. Almost too much attention.

“Rocco runs two nightclubs and sells meth out the back of them both. I’m not sure where he gets the supplies, but once we figure it out, that’ll be our way in.”

Ronan frowns and glances at Niall. “Who do we know that imports meth?”

“Bikers,” Niall says with a sigh. “The particularly nasty sort.”

“I had a feeling,” I admit. “I have contacts in some of the MCs from back when I worked with Marco if you’re interested?”

“We’ll hold off on that for now. What about this Rocco fella then?”

“The idea’s simple. We find out who’s supplying his meth, hit him during a shipment, and make him an offer. Sell his clubs to your family and profit or we murder him and take the club after he’s dad. Either way, we win.”

Ronan whistles. “Brutal. Efficient. I like it.”

“Thank you.” I give him a demure little bow. “It’s a talent of mine.”

“And what if we can’t figure out where the drugs are coming from?” Niall asks.

“We’ll work on it. This is just a rough outline, but once we start putting pieces in place, we’ll get a much better idea of where to go. Maybe blackmail’s a better route, or maybe Rocco’s got a weakness we can exploit. But we start with him.”

“Wonderful,” Ronan says, clapping his hands. He leans back from the bar and looks at his cousins. “All right, you two, you’re both dismissed. Seamus, I hope you weren’t taking notes.”

“Wouldn’t dare,” he grunts as he gets up and glances at me. “Nothing worth noting down, anyway.”

Niall rolls his eyes and drapes an arm across Seamus’s shoulders as he steers the surly Irishman away. “What crawled up your ass today, big fella? Got something against the pretty Italian girl?”

“Something,” Seamus grumbles as they walk off.

I watch them go, frowning. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Factions.” When I look back, Ronan looks serious. “Told you, love.”

“Why keep him around then?”

“We need somebody reporting back about how clever and useful you are. Enemies close and all that.” He comes around the bar and sits in the stool next to mine. I shut the folder, preparing to leave, when he reaches into his jacket and produces a gun.

I stare at it. He stares at me. We meet our gazes, and he’s smirking again.

“What’s this for?” I ask finally.

“I want you to carry it.” The weapon’s a small, snub-nose revolver, probably shoots .22 caliber bullets. Not a lot of power, but good enough for everyday carry and a little extra protection.

“No thanks. I’m not interested.” I try to push it away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Julien seemed serious when he was asking about you the other day and I’d feel better knowing you at least had a halfway passable weapon on hand in case anything happened. You do know how to shoot, yeah?”

I sigh and punch him lightly in the thigh. “Yes, asshole, I know how to shoot. My dad took me to the range twice a month for over a decade.”

“Then this shouldn’t be a big deal.” He pushes the gun at me, looking serious. “I can’t be around you all the time, love. Carry the piece.”

“This is dumb.” I take it from him and shove it into my bag. “It’s not necessary.”

“But it makes me feel better, and that’s worthwhile. Now, this Rocco fella. You’re serious about him? You think this’ll work?”

“I think it’s a good start anyway. I can’t promise anything.” I push away from the bar and get up. “What about Seamus? Is he going to be a problem?”

“Let me handle him. We can trust Niall, too, in case you weren’t sure.”

“I had a feeling.” I glance at Ronan and he’s watching me with real interest. His eyes slide down my body, along my tights, up to the skirt of my modest dress, and back to my eyes. “Can I help you with something?”

“Not at all. Just thinking about the little show you put on for me the other day, that’s all.”

“It wasn’t a show, you prick. It was more like sexual assault.”

“I’d never.” He grins and puts a hand over his heart. “I much prefer them willing. Begging is always best.”

I lean toward him, putting the sweetest little smile on my face I can manage. “You will never hear me beg, asshole.”

He laughs as I walk away. “We’ll see,” he calls out and my teeth clench because I’m worried he’s right, we really may see one day.