Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I should be upstairs, watching Ginevra eat. Instead, I’m in a secluded parking lot beneath the casino, flanked by two armed guards. I’m still wearing this morning’s suit, only reinforced by a bulletproof undershirt. Strength doesn’t need to hide behind armor.

This place is hardly used, yet the air thrums with the mingled scents of oil and exhaust fumes, and of course, the approaching truck. Its headlights cut through the dim light, illuminating the empty space.

My men tense, their hands hovering near their weapons, but I remain in place.

The truck pulls up in front of us and stops its engine. Its back doors swing open, and one of my men steps down. The second drags out Salvatore Bellavista like a sack of meat.

His silk smoking jacket hangs off one fleshy shoulder, and his cravat wraps around his neck like a noose. Both men march the old man to my feet and force him onto his knees, shoving his face into the oil-streaked concrete.

“Release him.”

They step back.

Bellavista raises his head to stare up at me through wide eyes. When he realizes it’s me, his mouth falls slack.

He should be afraid.

“Did you get the compensation I sent?” His voice wavers, his bravado betraying desperation.

I stare down at him, unblinking, allowing the silence to stretch as the weight of the situation settles into his thick skull. Tension mounts, and I savor every moment of his fear.

“The money came through,” I finally say, “but your problems go deeper than a prodigal son releasing counterfeit chips.”

Bellavista shifts on his knees, his eyes darting between me and my men. “What’s this about, Benito?”

“Every scumbag we’ve rounded up in the last twenty-four hours with those deactivated chips mentioned two people. A woman and an old man named Victor Bellavista.”

Confusion flickers across his jowls. “I don’t know any Victor.”

“This Victor knows you well enough to infiltrate your factory and steal chips.” I cock my head, studying him for signs of deception, but all I see is terror. “Funny, how you shot your own son over the fraud. Almost like you were covering up something bigger. Something bad enough to take down your whole family.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, trailing down his temples and sliding down his pale cheeks. His eyes dart to the gun holstered at my side, and he shudders.

“Everyone knows your family wiped out the Capellos,” Bellavista says, his voice cracking. “You waited five years for the right moment to take out their entire bloodline.”

My brows rise. Turns out the outside world doesn’t see us as weak.

“My son was a liability,” he adds, his voice wavering. “An addict making stupid mistakes and drawing unwanted attention. I couldn’t let his recklessness bring your wrath down on my family. I did what I had to do.”

He drops his gaze, his shoulders sagging, his spine sloping to the oil-stained floor.

I crouch down to look Bellavista in the eye. “Is your son still alive?”

He hesitates, then offers a tight nod.

“Then you’ll question him. Between the two of you, you’ll uncover this ‘Victor’ and bring him to me alive. Fail, and the Bellavista name will be wiped out of existence.”

His lips tighten. “Over counterfeit chips?”

“Over the conspiracy I’m yet to uncover,” I say.

Bellavista breathes hard through flared nostrils. An outsider looking into this situation would call me unreasonable. After all, the man shot his son over the fraud and covered our losses.

But giving people the benefit of the doubt is what led to Dad dying, and our mother defecting to the Galliano family only to get killed. Everything started with Ginevra breaking our engagement and taking up with Samson Capello.

Dad brushed it off as just a young woman not wanting to marry a simp. I knew it was a symptom of something insidious. Ginevra needed to pull away before her father and Capello ruined our family.

“There’s no conspiracy,” Bellavista says from between clenched teeth.

“Why would I believe the word of a man who continued doing business with the bastards who stole my father’s casino?”

His eyes flicker with regret. The neutrality that kept him wealthy while we were down has turned around and bitten him on the ass. After a moment of tension, he nods, the motion stiff. “I’ll investigate it.”

“Good.” I stand and gesture to my men.

They move in, bundling the old man back into the armored truck. As its engine roars to life and pulls away, the phone in my pocket vibrates. I pull it out and see Reaper’s name flashing on the screen.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“What do you know about a massive crater on the other side of town?” Reaper asks.

Brow furrowing, I gaze out at the disappearing tail lights. “What crater?”

“One of our surveillance units tracked a truck leaving the scene of a massive explosion. The damn thing backed straight into the Montesano armory.”

“When?” I snap.

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No one who matters. The truck reached a destination on the edge of town, then reversed out of it before getting swallowed into an expanding crater. Then it arrived safely into Montesano territory.”

I take a step toward the elevator, deciding to call Roman before heading upstairs to check on Ginevra. Vitale bursts through the doors, his face twisted with urgency.

“Boss,” he says, barely catching his breath. “Someone’s rigged the slot machines.”

My gaze sharpens, even though my mind still lingers on Roman and the crater. “What do you mean?”

“Payouts have been boosted. A woman just won half a million. She looks almost identical to someone who won six months ago.”

I grind my teeth, my pulse quickening as the bulletproof undershirt grates against my skin, making me want to scratch. This morning has already been too full of surprises, and the thought of another scam running under my nose sets my nerves on edge.

Frustration builds under my skin like a pressure cooker ready to explode, but I blow out a long breath. “Where is she now?”

Vitale points upstairs, the direction I’d planned to go anyway. “In one of the VIP lounges enjoying complimentary champagne, but it won’t be long before she bolts.”

“Keep her there. I’ll deal with the woman myself.”

Problems pile up on my chest like lead weights—Ginevra, Roman, the crater, the scams—the pressure’s reaching a breaking point. I need to seize control before every fucker who doubted my right to the casino laughs in my face.