My cold eyes cast down on her. She flinches when I tap my hand against her cheek.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I stand, shuffling backward a few steps, and rest against the front of my desk, crossing my ankles and arms. “The list?” I make a hand it over gesture.
“It’s in my room.”
“Rocky,” I yell.
Rocky comes barreling into my office.
“Go into Natalia’s room.” I peer at Natalia. “Where is the list?”
“I can get it,” Natalia replies, her voice low, as if she doesn’t want Rocky to hear. “I don’t want him in my stuff.”
“You’re forgetting the part where I give a shit about what you want,” I hiss, looking down at her. “Now, tell me where it is, or I’ll have him search the room for it. I promise, Rocky isn’t careful with people’s shit.”
“Sure am not,” Rocky says, his voice tinged with humor.
Natalia acts as if Rocky weren’t even in the room. “It’s on the vanity … in an envelope.”
“Grab it,” I order Rocky. “And don’t fucking open it.”
“Yes, boss.”
Rocky walks out of the room in long strides.
Natalia pretends to inspect her nails as I inspect her.
She’s a beautiful woman—an Italian man’s dream. Hell, she’s a dream for any man with a beating heart and working dick. Thick hair runs past her elbows in a sheet of black—my favorite color. Full breasts, curvy hips, and plenty of ass. If it wasn’t for her smart-ass attitude or being my daughter’s best friend, I’d say she’s perfect.
When she and Gigi became friends, they’d sit by the pool in bathing suits. I lost count of how many men I’d punched when I caught them looking.
“I’m not looking at Gigi,” they’d insist. “I’m looking at her friend.”
Rocky reenters the office, holding the envelope as if it were a winning lottery ticket. In actuality, it’s a golden ticket to kill Vinny. I inch my finger forward, telling Rocky to hand it over, and when he does, I tell him to get his ass out.
Rocky stares at me grimly, not enjoying being excluded from this conversation, but he’s smart enough not to question me.
Natalia sits silently in her chair, her arms hugging her stomach as she chews on her plump lower lip.
I hold up the envelope. “Time to learn if you’re worth that ten-K bottle of wine … let alone my protection.”
She stays quiet, but the nervousness is clear on her face as I open the envelope.
Her handwriting is sophisticated, all straight lines and legible.
He likes to gamble.
He goes to his parents’ Hamptons home when he wants to clear his head.
He’s doing business with the Corobras behind his father’s back.
Detective Hedgekins and Officer Bean are on their payroll.
There you go, jerk.
I notice how she didn’t name a single name other than the Corobras. If anyone ever found this letter, no one would know who he was.
I crumple the pathetic list in my fist and drop it onto the floor.
“Natalia, Natalia, Natalia,” I say, walking around her as if I were a shark who smelled blood. “I told you, you needed to prove your worth.”
“I wrote you a list,” she yells, gesturing to the balled-up paper. “I did exactly what you’d told me to do.”
“Your list is pathetic,” I snarl. “I already know all that shit.”
Her every muscle is tense. “What else do you want from me? To make stuff up to have a good enough list for you?”
“Cut the bullshit. Give me every address of the Lombardi’s. Their home addresses, vacation homes, businesses—any place you’ve been with Vinny, I want the address.”
She returns to chewing on her lip.
“Natalia.” I smack my hand onto the desk, causing her to jump. “If you don’t start spouting out addresses, I will shove that paper down your fucking throat.”
She stares at me, looking almost sober, as if she hadn’t drunk one sip of alcohol. This is the moment it truly dawns on her.
That her life is not safe in my hands if she’s invaluable.
I don’t care about her, friend of my daughter or not.
“Thirteenth Avenue. Brooklyn. That’s his main address.”
“And what else?”
“I … I don’t know.”
I slowly withdraw my Glock 19 and place it on the desk. “You’d better think real fucking hard.”
“Burly’s Cleaners … through the back,” she replies, her eyes glancing back and forth between the gun and me. “You walk through the freezer, and there’s a door in the back. That’s where Vinny meets with the Corobras.”
“What do they run through there?”
She lowers her eyes.
“Natalia. What. Do. They. Run?”
“They stash drugs and cash in there. That’s all I know.” She blows out a ragged breath. “I wasn’t involved in Vinny’s work. He took me there once, maybe twice, when he made a quick stop. I was never there long, and he hid a lot from me.”
“And where’s the Hamptons home he clears his head at?”
“It’s either 306 …” She pauses and thinks before shaking her head. “No, I think it’s 308 Cod Maple Drive.”
I observe her, watching her every move—how she speaks, how her fingers twitch, and how she chews on her lip when put on the spot—and run her words through my head, memorizing them.
“Please don’t kill me,” she pleads, her words barely audible.
My hungry gaze meets her doe eyes. “Sweet Natalia, I never make promises.”
I spent two hours grilling Natalia on every question I had about the Lombardis and their inner workings. She told me their addresses, what safe codes she knew, who Vinny associated with, and what he said behind closed doors to people on the phone when she was with him.
Learning people’s secrets—especially when you can use them toward an adversary—is such a high. Stronger than any glass of liquor. Vinny telling her that information further proves he’s an idiot.
Natalia looked ready to fall out of her chair from exhaustion when I finally stopped my questioning and told her to go to bed.
The wicked never sleep, so I’m still in my office when Benny knocks before stepping inside.
Benny has never shied away from how we run our family and business. He was twelve the first time he saw me kill a man and then seventeen when he shot a bullet through the head of his first. Call it father-son bonding. I know Benny will be a good leader when he steps up. But he still needs time. There is still decency lingering in his heart, which I blame his mother for. He needs to release all of that before taking over the reins.
There’s no place for good-hearted men here.
We’re raised to be loyal and learn respect for those who deserve it. And then we teach what happens to those who become disloyal or disrespectful.
“Natalia?” he asks, a scowl on his face that closely resembles mine.
I arch a brow.
“You and Natalia?”
I can’t avoid a conversation about this woman for one second.