His Mafia Prince
Chapter 281: Who Is It?

Chapter 281: Who Is It?

{SASHA}

It takes us several hours to go through the files.

Tyler got bored fast, so eventually, I took the laptop up to the study and let Tyler wander in and out of the secret door to the library at will while I pored over the lists. But when I come across one name buried deep in the documents, I slam a fist down hard on the desk, making him jump where he’s laid himself out on the sofa across the room.

"What is it?" he demands, coming back to the desk to look over my shoulder.

I jab a finger at one particular name.

"Well, shit," Tyler breathes.

"That’s one way to put it."

Tyler pulls out his phone, but I grab his hand before he can call the person I know he was going to call. "No," I say gently.

"But Gloria needs to know."

"Yes, but we can’t trust this information to a phone conversation."

Tyler puts his phone down on the desk, his eyes intense, and leans over me. "She deserves to know..."

I stand, pulling him into my arms. "Of course not. So we’ll go ourselves, together, right now. Drop in unannounced. Explain the situation to her and..." I know what I’d do if it were one of my own, a rat in my ranks. But Gloria’s Family is her own to control. "And let her take care of it," I finish. "It’s her problem to manage."

Tyler’s eyes are hard and green when he tells me, "Well, if she doesn’t kill the fucker, I will."

***

When I told Tyler we’d go together, I meant it.

Our time in Italy together reminded me about the things I love most about this business: the adrenaline; the big-risk, big-reward opportunities; working in the shadows as an effective partnership, no one else involved.

We take one of the bullet-resistant town cars, and I drive us myself, having told only Luigi and Miles where I’m going. No bodyguards. No forewarning. And when we get a few streets out from Hillview House, our way is blocked by a large van—one of the checkpoints set up there.

My window is approached by a man I recognize from guard duty at Hillview, and I crack the dark window enough so that he can see my face.

"Fuck me," he says in surprise.

"Married," I tell him. It takes him a second to get the joke, and then he just gives a terrified smile. "I want an escort into Hillview, but keep it quiet. Need-to-know only. Understand?"

He gives a hasty nod and then motions another guard over, speaking into his ear. Things move quickly after that, and within minutes we’re pulling into the underground garage beneath Hillview House.

Conor O’Hara comes down to meet us, wariness in his eyes despite the width of his smile.

"Well, this is a surprise." I give a cool nod. Tyler says nothing, just slams his car door shut. He can’t quite bring himself to look at O’Hara, whose eyebrows inch up. "You’re here to see Ms. Gloria, I take it?"

"Correct," I tell him.

He pauses, then says, "I’ll have to ask you to hand over any weapons." "Not a chance."

"Don Adonis," O’Hara says, looking me straight in the eye, "I know you’re a friend to the family. But this visit is unexpected, and frankly, neither you nor your husband look all that friendly today. So I’m not letting you in to see Ms. Gloria without surrendering your weapons."

For all O’Hara’s geniality, he doesn’t mess around when it comes to protecting his Boss. I pull out my Sig Sauer, ignoring Tyler’s sharp, "Sasha," and hand it over.

I turn back to Tyler, looking at him over the roof of the car, and he holds my eyes for a moment before rolling his own. "Fine," he says. "Better fucking take mine, too." He stalks over to O’Hara and hands over his gun. O’Hara’s twitching brows are the only sign of surprise that Tyler was armed as well.

People really do underestimate my baby bird.

"Well?" I ask, once O’Hara has patted us down.

He looks us both in the face, his eyes still troubled, and then gives a nod. "Follow me."

Gloria is in the sitting room near the front door of Hillview House. She greets us warmly, and I wish, once more, that I didn’t have to be the bearer of bad tidings. But better she find out from us than wake up dead one day.

"This is such a lovely surprise," she says, waving us to sit down on the lounge suite opposite her chair. "And I can’t wait to hear all about your time in Italy. But what on earth are you doing here?"

We are not alone. In the room with Gloria and us are Sean and Murphy, and O’Hara stands by the door. "We need to talk," I tell her.

"Alone," Tyler adds.

Gloria goes still, except for her hands, which squeeze the arms of the lounge chair. "Alright," she says softly, and nods at the men.

But O’Hara hesitates. "Ms. Gloria, I’m not comfortable leaving you here alone."

"You can stay, Conor, of course."

"No." My voice cracks loudly through the quiet room. "Alone, Gloria. We mean it."

Her confusion morphs into concern. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can say in front of Conor, surely."

Tyler puts a hand on my arm. " Sasha," he says softly. "He has a right to hear what we have to say."

Tyler is right, but if we let Conor stay and the other two leave, it’s hard to tell what might happen. "Fine," I say, and plow ahead. "We have information on a leak in your family, Gloria ."

No one speaks, although Murphy and Byrne move a little closer to where Gloria is sitting, as though my words are a threat to her.

"A leak?" Gloria repeats.

"Someone in your Family has been working as a double agent for the Irish." There’s no point sugarcoating it, and I want this over and done with as soon as possible.

Gloria looks to Tyler, who gives a short nod. "How do you know this?" Her voice is no longer warm.

The atmosphere in the room changes, too. O’Hara comes closer to us as though we might suddenly attack. Murph and Byrne, on either side of Gloria’s chair, take a step forward.

"Because we found what the Irish has been looking for all this time," Tyler tells her. "It’s a list that Angelo made before she died. A list of every member of the Irish Fighters that she knew of, and everyone even remotely associated. All their crimes, any evidence she had against them, anything that implicated them. It’s a fucking powder keg. I can see why they wanted it back."

"Wanted it so badly that they were willing to sacrifice any number of men to get it," I add, taking up the story. "And when I went through the information, there was one name on there that was familiar to me—and will be to you, too."

I’m as tense as every other person in the room, preparing for any eventuality. Someone will make a move soon. They’ll have to, if only to break the tension. Gloria is gripping the arms of the chair so hard that her fingernails are digging into the brocade.

"I think you’d better tell me who it is," she says slowly. "But first, perhaps you’re right; I’ll send the men away. This is a private conversation."

"I don’t like it," O’Hara says at once. "I’m sorry, Ms. Gloria," he adds, wincing at her cold, imperious stare, "but it...it feels wrong in here."

"Yes, it does feel wrong in here," I say softly. "Because someone in this room is a rat."

Gloria turns her eyes from O’Hara to me. "That’s a serious accusation. You’re telling me one of my closest security advisers is actually a plant from the Irish mob?"

"Yeah," Tyler says. "That’s what we’re telling you."

I see O’Hara’s fingers tightening on his gun, and I take a step in front of Tyler. I can’t help myself—it’s instinct. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to stop me.

"Alright," Gloria says, paler than I’ve ever seen her, so pale that the light dusting of freckles across her nose stands out in sharp relief. "Then who is it?"

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