I meant the beach, in St. Martin, but there’s no sense in bringing that up.
“Why’d you kidnap him, anyway?” I ask. “You snatched him, let him go, and then grabbed all three of us. For an abductor, you suck.”
He cracks a grin. “Do you think I like doing this? I killed Roberto. Took over the entire damn Italian organization in New York.”
“Do you want congratulations?” I glare at him.
Is that what Mikhail had been blabbering about, how the Italians were in disarray, and now was the time to strike?
“Wait, you’re seriously the new don?” I ask.
The idea is crazy. He was a soldier, the muscle for Roberto. At least that’s what I’d assumed when we’d met. That’s what he’d led me to believe. Had he lied to me?
“I’m the one asking the questions,” Antonio retorts. He glances in the rearview mirror as he drives us in the opposite direction of our home. “Are the twins mine?”