Monday afternoon, I walked with Pietro from lunch back to The Syndicate, where we had business to finalize about shipments. A slight breeze blew toward us, my tie pressing against my chest.
An eerie feeling washed over me.
While Pietro gossiped about the latest woman he had picked up from the club, I paused for a brief moment and scanned the street. Something didn’t feel right. And I swore to God, if it was another family member getting it on with an FBI—
When I spotted the black SUV with tinted windows that I didn’t recognize about half a block down from the entrance to the club, I gritted my teeth. A female sat behind the wheel, typing on her phone but gazing at us.
Hands balling into fists, I grabbed Pietro by the collar and stormed into the building with him in tow. After I slammed
