22. Target Practice
Target Practice
Salvatore
“Ithink he’s dead.”
Andrea jumps out of the way before my knife connects with its target. A muffled groan carries over the waves lapping against the boat.
“Not yet,” I say.
Dante is still among the living. He’s only lost consciousness once since I cauterized what’s left of his leg after I cut it off. His eyes roll with the motion of the sea.
Andrea drops next to him for a selfie. “Smile. Here.” He puts his sunglasses on Dante. “We can reenact Weekend at Bernie’s before you die.”
Idiot.
“Salvatore…please,” Dante gurgles, in pain from Andrea poking the knife wounds in his chest and legs. “I’ll tell you everything. Just kill me quick.”
“Start talking.” My biceps strain to lift my slow-jigging reel. The lure touching the bottom of the sea flutters through three long pulls that promise sore shoulders in the morning.
Dante shivers. His eyes shift between me and Andrea in our fishing gear. “Tino has a new partner to expand his territory in Sicily.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t know, but he’s not from here. They meet every two weeks at Eden. They were there last week.”
“Why would they need to meet in private?”
“Because Agostino and Nino would never agree to the partnership.” Dante winces. “That’s all I know.”
Trafficking.
In all the years Tino’s father has ruled as don, the Preda have never dabbled in migrant smuggling. Neither does the Scilari. Some honor remains among thieves. If Tino is working around his family with an unknown threat, that’s a problem.
I get a bite on my reel and wind the line. Luiggi steps from the helm to pull in the latest catch he drags onto the boat. Fishing clears my head. It requires patience and strategy to entice prey with the facade of safety.
Dante’s body jerks at the five-pronged trident I send into his chest. Guess his mother isn’t getting milk or her son.
“Want to give a warning next time?” Andrea rolls away from the slumped corpse.
“Toss him overboard,” I say. “We’re done here.”
Andrea salutes. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
We’re miles from the shore for anyone to suspect anything but deep-sea fishing at night.
Luiggi wraps Dante with a rope he attaches to weights. He and Andrea toss the body overboard, sending our temporary informant to a watery grave.
“Feel better? Or do we need to go back to shore for someone else to kill?” Andrea chides.
“We got what we needed,” I say, ignoring the temptation to spear him with my harpoon. “Did we get an ID on who was with Tino?”
Luiggi shakes his head at his phone. “None of our cameras picked up his face. Only his back when he went to the VIP area.”
Fuck.
“I’ll set up a meeting with Renata,” I say. “There’s something she’s not telling us. Trouble informed me—“
“Trouble.” Andrea grins. “You two have nicknames?”
I glare at him to shut the fuck up. “Women have been disappearing from Eden. There might be a connection between the hits on our warehouses and whoever Tino’s new partner is. Bianca agreed to help.”
“Can we trust her to stay quiet?” Luiggi’s green-gray eyes slide to mine. “We don’t know her. What if she’s working for the Preda, or another of our enemies?”
“She checks out.” Andrea’s mouth is half full of sandwich, like he didn’t just throw a dead body into the sea.
“So we let her into our operations?” Luiggi spits. “We know better than to let pu—“
My hand is around his throat before he can finish the sentence. Luiggi is taller than my six feet, but I have him on muscle. His face flames under strips of moonlight when I squeeze tighter.
“Say it again. I fucking dare you,” I growl.
Luiggi’s brows draw. He drops his hands and stares.
Bianca should be just pussy, one of many women whose names I’ll forget over time.
Allowing her to see any part of this business exposes us to unnecessary risks.
I don’t believe in coincidences, but I believe in fate.
There’s a reason she found her way into my life.
Luiggi stumbles when I release his neck. He coughs and straightens his fishing gear with a glare. Our ten-year partnership will not save him if he challenges me. My word is final.
“Bianca’s ability to appear trustworthy while extracting information is an asset.” I keep my tone low. “We’ll find out who is working with Tino, make their deaths painful, and continue with our operations. She’ll return to the States.”
Forgotten.
Are you sure about that?
Luiggi shakes his head. “Keeping her is a mistake, Salvatore. I don’t want what you’ve built to fall over…a woman you don’t even love.”
He brushes past Andrea and me.
My phone rings, flashing the number Bianca called when she’d snatched it during our game of hide and seek.
“Ciau.”
“Ciao, my ass! Where is Bianca?”
Andrea’s frown deepens at Stephanie’s shriek. She’s still in the States, per her background check. She bought a ticket to Napoli for next month, likely to stay with Bianca. They’re best friends who grew up together, which means a package deal once she demands to come here.
I hit the speakerphone.
“My girl called me out of breath from this number. Her phone is off, and our grace period to not bother each other should we be put through a mattress is up. Where is she?”
“I assure you Bianca is back at my residence,” I say.
The line goes quiet.
“Who are you?”
“Salvatore Bennici, your friend’s companion for the duration of her stay.” Andrea smiles at my middle finger.
“How do I know you don’t have my friend tied up in a dungeon?”
She is.
“One of my properties is on a citrus grove,” I add. “I’m taking her there soon.”
“A citrus grove?” Stephanie’s voice perks. “She wanted an Under the Tuscan Sun experience. I want proof of life, or I’m flying there to beat your ass.”
The call ends.
Andrea is on the ground, holding his sides. “These women got you whipped!”
“Shut up.” I make a mental note to take a photo of Trouble once I see her.
Dealing with one Bianca is a lot to handle. Two might kill me.
Andrea clears his throat. “I should move in to watch you lose your shit. Bianca’s friend is ready to kill you, and your girl is mad.”
“She’s not my girl.” My gaze casts over dark waves. “Do you think I’m making the wrong decision?”
“I think you’re soft on her,” he says. “Didn’t your parents get married within a month or two of dating?”
Pain I once buried creeps into my chest. I swallow the burn clawing up my throat, the urge to scream I’d laid to rest with my parents three decades ago.
“Let’s go back,” I say.
Luiggi guides us toward the shore. Waves crash and crest. The scent of the salty air taking me back to the days on my father’s boat. We’d spend hours on the water, with him teaching me fishing techniques his father had taught him.
In a different life, I could imagine a wife and child to pass Parisi traditions down to.