I turned to him. “What kind of look?”
Maximus grimaced, shook his head as if it was something dirty he had to say. “Never mind.”
“Spill, Maximus.”
“It’s the look my father has when he looks at my mother.”
I stared, then scoffed. But my heart sped up completely uncharacteristically. I clicked the reminder away but it stayed locked inside my brain.
Maximus continued staring as if he could x-ray information out of me.
“She’s no one.” The words rang wrong.
Maximus’ gaze didn’t waver. “So G’s a she.”
I raised my finger in warning. “Drop it, all right?”
“It can’t be Cressida. You don’t have a cutesy name for her that starts with G and it’s not her birthday. The closest thing to an endearment you’ve used for her was bitch.”
Why couldn’t he drop it? I usually shared almost everything with him, but I hadn’t mentioned my encounters with Greta with a single word. To no one.
“Have you found an affair so you can bear being married to Cressida?”
“She’s not an affair.”
The protective note in my voice was unmistakable and really piqued Maximus’ interest. “You’re in trouble.”
I was.
“It’s Greta’s birthday today.”
“Greta?” Maximus’ eyes flitted with a hint of recognition but then disbelief wiped away that look. Of course, he wouldn’t believe it.
“Greta Falcone.”
Maximus stared, waiting for the joke.
Cackling filled the cell. Both Maximus and I turned toward our captive. He gave me a toothy grin. “How sweet. The Vitiello giant got a taste of Camorra whore pussy.”
Static filled my ears as rage boiled up.
“Amo!”
I moved across the room before Maximus could react. I pulled my knife, grabbed the man’s long, greasy hair so he met my gaze and rammed the blade with such force into his abdomen that I wondered if my fist was inside his bowels. I smirked down at his agony-ridden face, wide eyes and blood-sputtering mouth. I jerked the blade upward, opening him up.
He sagged forward again but this time adrenaline wouldn’t bring him back. Stepping back, I slid the knife out. With a splash, part of his bowels dropped to the floor.
When I turned, Maximus was staring at me as if he’d never seen me before. “We were supposed to question him.”
“We did. We’ll catch another one.”
I went over to the sink and washed my hands and knife, then changed my shirt. My pants were black. Nobody would notice blood on them. “Stop staring,” I growled when Maximus still hadn’t moved. “Call someone to clean up this mess.”
“The mess you caused because you went berserk on behalf of a Falcone’s honor?”
I left him standing in the cell and headed out, toward my car, a black Mercedes G-Class. When I turned on the engine, Maximus slipped in, plopping down on the passenger seat. “Cleaning crew is on the way.”
I nodded and pulled away from the warehouse.