Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“Mrs. Leone?” Ernesto, my chief of security replies on the second ring. “Is something wrong?”

“There are bodies you need to dispose of. On the roof. At the entrance. And at the back door.” I open the fridge and reach for the bottle of water. “And there’s another one on my balc—”

The crunch of glass under heavy feet echoes from the living room behind me. I turn around just in time to see my demon toss the body of the dead hitman over the railing, down to the frost-covered lawn.

“It’s under my balcony, Ernesto,” I correct myself.

“Bodies?”

“Yes. Get rid of them. And call the alarm company, have them here first thing in the morning.” I throw the phone onto the counter and reach for a glass from the cupboard. “I’ll see if I can find you some clothes.”

I pour water into the glass, avoiding looking at him. The hardwood floor creaks beneath his shoes as he rounds the island separating the living room from the kitchen and comes to stand behind me.

I grip the edge of the counter and close my eyes. Still reeling that he’s here. His absence left a gaping hole in my chest, nothing in the world could fill it.

“I thought you forgot me,” I whisper.

Warm breath fans the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Even when I was on the brink of madness, barely alive and unable to grasp where or who I was, I remembered you.” Hisvoice is raspy next to my ear. “Where’s my gun? There are things I need to take care of.”

The familiar hurt pierces my chest. He’s leaving . . . Again.

“On the top shelf by the front door.”

His touch disappears. I keep my eyes focused on the glass of water as I listen to his retreating steps. A few moments later, I hear the front door open and then close with a heartbreaking click.

He’s gone.

Chapter 31

The eyes of six men follow me as I step inside the formal dining room, which had long ago been turned into a meeting space at the Leone Villa, and take a seat at the head of the long black table. This was Batista’s spot up until a year ago when his health no longer allowed him to be here. My inner circle always knew that I was making the decisions for the Family, even with my husband presiding over meetings like this, but once he was too sick to attend, we dropped the charade completely.

I lean back in the plush black leather chair and sweep my eyes over the faces of the men present. Salvo is sitting to my right, his face set in hard lines. He’s probably blaming himself for last night’s situation, and I’m sure Massimo will hold him accountable as well once news of the assassination attempt reaches my stepbrother. I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen, or Massimo might kill Salvo the moment his sentence is done. As the underboss, Salvo is already burdened with so much work, and I can’t expect him to personally oversee my safety, too.

The men remain silent while my gaze moves from one to the next, pausing on each face for a couple of moments. Who’s the bastard who ordered the hit? I knew something like this could happen as soon as Batista died and I announced that I wouldn’t be stepping down. No one expected that. A woman, officiallyleading a Cosa Nostra Family? Such a thing was unheard of. But I didn’t expect anyone to be so bold as to try to kill me in my own home.

“So, do you think it was Ajello?” I ask, even though I’m sure it wasn’t New York Don. The culprit is sitting right here in this very room. I just don’t know who it is, yet.

Six pairs of eyes stare at me, but no one says a word. I’m sure Ernesto has already filled them in on the events of last night, including the number of bodies he had to collect from around the house. The man, or men, who ordered my assassination are now most likely banging their heads on the wall, wondering if someone spilled the beans and warned me. They must be dumbfounded by the fact that the entire team of hitmen was neutralized, and baffled about who might have done it.

Maybe they think I did it myself. If I wasn’t furious, I would laugh. The image of my demon sitting on that recliner covered in blood after he took out the killers rises in my mind, and right on cue, an ache hits me square in the chest.

I can’t believe he’s back.

I can’t believe he left.

Again.

I push the thought away and, leaning forward, cross my hands on top of the table.

“Or maybe it was the Albanians,” I add in a calm tone. For now, I’ll let them all believe that I think it was an outside job.

“Dushku,” Brio agrees. “We’ve been partners with the Albanians for decades, and you’ve cut ties with them without a proper explanation. I can understand how they would see such a move as a betrayal. A move, which I might add, you’ve made on your own, without consulting with the rest of us.”

“Popov gave us better rates.” I meet his gaze. “Or are you suggesting I should have rejected his offer and kept working with Dushku, even though that would have meant unnecessary financial losses for the Family?”

Brio clenches his jaw. “Of course not.”