Revenge Read Free Page A

the
peace between their families, that he’d honor the truce that had
been sealed by their marriage. Those twenty-six years of peace were
over now—undone by her death. At least Andretti seemed to think
so.
    Perhaps Enrico had been naïve to think that
Carlo would honor his daughter’s memory by keeping the peace she’d
helped broker. He should have known better. A vulture would never
be anything but a vulture. Andretti had never had a scrap of honor
and never would. The man was a bottom feeder, a scum, a leech on
society—
    Enrico’s attention was caught by a large,
heavyset man in a sharply tailored suit standing to the left of the
lobby doors. Massimo Veltroni, Carlo’s man. Veltroni’s black eyes
snapped to his, the intent in them clear. A chill ran through
Enrico, that sick anticipation rising again, his skin prickling
with awareness. Damn it—he’d been stupid, stupid, stupid. And now
it was going to cost them dearly. Per favore , Dio , spare Antonio. He’s too young.
    He tapped both guards on the shoulders and
they followed his gaze, closing ranks in front of Enrico,
automatically shielding their capo from danger.
    Enrico’s hand fell down to grip the Glock 9mm
in his jacket pocket. As capo , he rarely carried a weapon,
but Ruggero had insisted after seeing the dead falcon. Now he
appreciated his guard’s caution.
    He couldn’t tear his eyes off Veltroni. The
image of a cobra looking to strike came to Enrico’s mind. The man
reached into his suit jacket, a tight smile on his face.
    Enrico tensed, and Antonio and Ruggero pulled
their weapons, Ruggero’s movements so fluid and practiced they made
Antonio look like a clumsy amateur. Which he almost was. Antonio
had his gun out and ready mere seconds after Ruggero did. But
seconds counted. Seconds meant the difference between alive and
dead. Enrico heard women shriek at the sight of the guns, and then
the scuffle of feet as people scrambled to get away from them. But
he didn’t look behind him; eyes on the threat, always. That was the
rule. Distractions meant death.
    When Veltroni saw the guns, he broke into
laughter, a genuinely mirthful smile creasing his features this
time. Enrico was puzzled. There was nothing funny about the
situation. Not in the slightest.
    Veltroni slowly withdrew his empty hand from
his coat, his fingers in the shape of a gun. He pointed at Enrico
and pretended to take a shot, even blowing off smoke from the end
of his thick forefinger. Reaching up, he tipped the brim of his
fedora to Enrico. Then he turned and ambled out the door.
    “Fuck,” Antonio said, his voice hushed.
    Fuck was right. They’d almost walked into a
trap, and Enrico’s pride had led them there.
    Antonio and Ruggero put up their guns and
Enrico released his grip on the Glock. Glancing around them, they
hurried outside to the car waiting to take them to the private
airstrip.
    This day had started off bad, and it was
quickly going straight to hell.

    Kate Andretti snuck out of bed, careful not
to disturb her sleeping husband. She looked down at him, his wavy,
sandy brown hair scrunched up by the pillow, his tanned face slack
and innocent as he snored. She hated sneaking off to take her birth
control pills, but Vince couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to
get pregnant now. There was no sense bringing a child into a
marriage that was less than stable.
    But she had hope. Three months ago, Vince had
told her about a job at the Lucchesi Home for Children. Even though
the work was glorified data entry, she’d taken it. She was happy
computerizing the orphanage’s records and helping out with the
kids.
    And she was happy that Vince had actually
listened to her when she’d said she needed to work, that she needed
to make friends. Maybe he’d finally understood—at least in part—her
reasons for waiting. But still she hid the pills from him. Just in
case.
    Easing the bathroom door shut behind her,
Kate crouched down and pulled a box of tampons out from