I’m telling you this."
I waited, holding my breath.
"Rumor has it that the O’Hara clan is holed up in the Poconos."
I frowned, wondering why a New Jersey crime family would hide out in the sticks in Pennsylvania.
Leaning closer and pitching his voice lower, he confided, "Including Seamus."
He delivered the information with such deliberate weight that I knew it was important, but I didn’t know why. "So?"
Delveccio leaned back, his sharp gaze searching my face to see if I was messing with him. Determining I wasn’t, he shook his head in disbelief. "Seamus O’Hara is such a power-hungry S.O.B. that he took out his own father in order to take over the organization."
"So not a nice guy," I deadpanned.
Delveccio glanced up and down the hallway. "He fed him to the fishes."
"I thought that was an Italian thing," I blurted out without thinking.
Thankfully the mobster wasn’t offended.
"He chopped off a couple of body parts from his old man while he was still alive. An ear, a couple of fingers."
Bile rose in my throat at the idea, and I leaned back against the wall for support.
"Fed them to a tankful of piranhas. You know what they are?"
"Mobster-eating fish?" I joked weakly.
Surprised, Delveccio let out a guffaw that echoed in the hallway. "Is it any wonder I like you?" Then growing serious, he finished his story. "Then he dumped his old man in the tank. He was still alive when they started tearing his flesh from him."
A cold panic gripped me as I realized just how much trouble Armani had managed to get herself into.
"But you didn’t hear it from me," Delveccio warned. "Capiche?"
I nodded.
"Are you sure this friend of yours is worth all the trouble you’re getting yourself into?"
"I sure hope so," I muttered, wondering what kind of a mess I’d end up in this time.
He turned to go back in the room and I followed him. Suddenly, he spun around, capturing me in a giant bear hug.
Stunned, I gasped, which was a bad idea because I was almost overwhelmed by the scent of garlic oozing from his pores and his overwhelming cologne. "Be careful," he whispered in my ear. "I kind of like having you around."
He released me just far enough so that he could kiss me on both cheeks. "You're sorta like family," he muttered gruffly, but I could hear the concern causing him to choke up.
Stunned, I almost fell over when he let go of me and took a step back. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath while he hurried back into the room to check on the kids.
My head swirled and my stomach clenched nervously. I knew that if the mobster was that worried, going after the O'Hara family to get Armani and Joy Gilbert back was a bad idea, a very bad idea, but I didn't have a choice.
"You keep interesting company," a deep, gravelly voice noted from behind me.
I didn't have to turn around to know that it was Jack speaking. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, Patrick's voice in my head reminding me, "Don't get caught."
I turned slowly to face Jack, trying to figure a plausible excuse for what he'd just witnessed.
He leaned with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes simmering with an unspoken accusation.
I cleared my throat, striving to sound nonchalant. "You're here early."
He arched an eyebrow. "So are you."
"I wanted to see my niece." I waved at the doorway Delveccio had disappeared through.
"Before visiting hours?"
"I've got a busy day."
"I can see that." His tone was so dry that it scraped along my nerves like sandpaper.
"What do you think you saw?" I countered, meeting his gaze with a challenge shining in mine.
"You're very chummy with Mr. Delveccio."
"It looks like—" I cut myself off, realizing the mobster wouldn't appreciate me giving the scoop to the reporter about his grandson's recovery.
Jack tipped his head to the side to get a better look at me. "Looks like what?"
I shook my head. I had enough enemies. I didn't need to make Delveccio one too.
"You're keeping the
I waited, holding my breath.
"Rumor has it that the O’Hara clan is holed up in the Poconos."
I frowned, wondering why a New Jersey crime family would hide out in the sticks in Pennsylvania.
Leaning closer and pitching his voice lower, he confided, "Including Seamus."
He delivered the information with such deliberate weight that I knew it was important, but I didn’t know why. "So?"
Delveccio leaned back, his sharp gaze searching my face to see if I was messing with him. Determining I wasn’t, he shook his head in disbelief. "Seamus O’Hara is such a power-hungry S.O.B. that he took out his own father in order to take over the organization."
"So not a nice guy," I deadpanned.
Delveccio glanced up and down the hallway. "He fed him to the fishes."
"I thought that was an Italian thing," I blurted out without thinking.
Thankfully the mobster wasn’t offended.
"He chopped off a couple of body parts from his old man while he was still alive. An ear, a couple of fingers."
Bile rose in my throat at the idea, and I leaned back against the wall for support.
"Fed them to a tankful of piranhas. You know what they are?"
"Mobster-eating fish?" I joked weakly.
Surprised, Delveccio let out a guffaw that echoed in the hallway. "Is it any wonder I like you?" Then growing serious, he finished his story. "Then he dumped his old man in the tank. He was still alive when they started tearing his flesh from him."
A cold panic gripped me as I realized just how much trouble Armani had managed to get herself into.
"But you didn’t hear it from me," Delveccio warned. "Capiche?"
I nodded.
"Are you sure this friend of yours is worth all the trouble you’re getting yourself into?"
"I sure hope so," I muttered, wondering what kind of a mess I’d end up in this time.
He turned to go back in the room and I followed him. Suddenly, he spun around, capturing me in a giant bear hug.
Stunned, I gasped, which was a bad idea because I was almost overwhelmed by the scent of garlic oozing from his pores and his overwhelming cologne. "Be careful," he whispered in my ear. "I kind of like having you around."
He released me just far enough so that he could kiss me on both cheeks. "You're sorta like family," he muttered gruffly, but I could hear the concern causing him to choke up.
Stunned, I almost fell over when he let go of me and took a step back. I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath while he hurried back into the room to check on the kids.
My head swirled and my stomach clenched nervously. I knew that if the mobster was that worried, going after the O'Hara family to get Armani and Joy Gilbert back was a bad idea, a very bad idea, but I didn't have a choice.
"You keep interesting company," a deep, gravelly voice noted from behind me.
I didn't have to turn around to know that it was Jack speaking. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, Patrick's voice in my head reminding me, "Don't get caught."
I turned slowly to face Jack, trying to figure a plausible excuse for what he'd just witnessed.
He leaned with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes simmering with an unspoken accusation.
I cleared my throat, striving to sound nonchalant. "You're here early."
He arched an eyebrow. "So are you."
"I wanted to see my niece." I waved at the doorway Delveccio had disappeared through.
"Before visiting hours?"
"I've got a busy day."
"I can see that." His tone was so dry that it scraped along my nerves like sandpaper.
"What do you think you saw?" I countered, meeting his gaze with a challenge shining in mine.
"You're very chummy with Mr. Delveccio."
"It looks like—" I cut myself off, realizing the mobster wouldn't appreciate me giving the scoop to the reporter about his grandson's recovery.
Jack tipped his head to the side to get a better look at me. "Looks like what?"
I shook my head. I had enough enemies. I didn't need to make Delveccio one too.
"You're keeping the
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