Mark's phone dinged as he took another draw on his coffee. He'd been sucking back the stuff all morning long, trying to battle the fog in his head. He glanced down at the screen. It was her again. They'd been trading texts back and forth like teenagers all morning long, but this one almost made him spit out what he'd just sipped:

I'M LEAVING EARLY. REPEAT TONIGHT?

He put down his cup and grinned like an idiot. Even though sleep was what he really needed, he was willing to give it the old college try. His body might decide enough is enough and give out on him, but fuck it, making love to his wife throughout the night until they were both on the verge of exhaustion was one hell of a way to go.

"Tell me why we are even letting him in here."

Angela's voice in his ear was not much more than a whisper, but filled with venom. Mark turned his head to the young woman sitting beside him, her long red mane being tossed around like a two-year-old thoroughbred anxious to get on with the race. And that's exactly what Angela Chilvati was. Harvard trained, smart as a whip, she was ready to break free from the second-string position and prove herself worthy after living in the shadow of two older siblings.

"You know the saying . . . keep your enemies closer." He patted her hand. "We'll let him say his piece, turn him down politely, and have him escorted out."

Angela leaned back into the soft leather of her chair and stared across the table at her sister, who carried similar features except for the blonde hair kept straight and tidy in a blunt cut that ended at the chin. She seemed unaffected about the fact that Pino Trovato was about to walk into the main hub of the Chilvati offices. It would be his first visit, and in all likelihood the man would start salivating when he entered the fifteen-hundred-square-foot, two-story boardroom. All that space was needed to accommodate the imported monstrosity of a table, the custom walnut slab lacquered to a high shine and surrounded by twenty-six black, hand-crafted goatskin chairs.

Theoretically, one of the two women should have been seated at the head of the thing since together they had controlling interest, but they had both insisted that Mark be the one to face the enemy head-on. It was a smart tactic, the best way to keep Trovato guessing.

Mark lifted his gaze to the portrait of the family's patriarch hanging above the fireplace at the far side of the room, wondering what that man would think of this little meet and greet. Pino and Augustus may have been in the same line of work at some point, but it didn't mean they were friends. The Trovato crime family was based in New Orleans, and they were known to be violent in their fight to obliterate other ethnic gangs. Although they often bragged about their ever-expanding territory, they still didn't have one-tenth of the power of the Chilvati family and had always resented the empire Augustus founded. Legitimacy was the mistress of that business, something no one admitted to but everyone lusted after.

There was a knock and his secretary, Lisa, opened the door wide enough to look right at him. "Mr. Trovato is here."

"Show him in," Mark replied, standing to button his suit jacket. Angela and Loretta followed his lead, the sisters exchanging a glance and some unspoken message that Mark was not privy to. Which was good in his book. They needed a strong bond, because one day he would be stepping back and they would be running things on their own.

Seconds later the door opened again and Pino Trovato was escorted in. He passed the hat in his hand to Lisa before turning to face them full-on. It had been years since Mark had seen him last and although there was a little more grey going on in that dark hair, there was no denying the man's identity. The long scar that marred the right side of his face was not something one was likely to forget.

Mark gave him a nod. "Trovato."

There was no response as the older man rounded the far end of the table to come up on Angela's side, all the time ignoring the view of the city he wanted to take control of. Although his body was big, there was a deadly calmness in the way it moved. He stopped, turning his back on the wall of windows, the glare from which throwing his face into shadows. He was likely an expert at avoiding bright light whenever possible.

"Can I get anyone anything?" Lisa called from the doorway.

Mark didn't even bother to offer. "No, we're good, Lisa. Thank you," he answered, not taking his eyes off their guest. No need to have Trovato lingering longer than needed. And on that note . . . . time to get started. "This is Angela and Loretta Chilvati."

Trovato's gaze went from one to the other as the introductions were made before giving a little bow in Loretta's direction. Birth order meant everything in the archaic traditions his family refused to give up. Males came first, of course, but with Gus in jail, and her being the oldest remaining Chilvati, he naturally assumed Loretta carried the power, even if she was a woman. Too bad she didn't have some honkin' family ring he had to kiss. From down on his knees. Mark would have enjoyed seeing that one.

"The pleasure is mine," Trovato said, his pronunciation sounding more like De ple-zour ez meen.

Mark thought he was laying the Italian accent on a little thick after all these years. If he was trying to impress the women in the room, he was barking up the wrong tree. They were not easily fooled.

Trovato turned his focus to Mark. "Mr. Spinelli, good to see you again."

"Thank you." Mark gestured to the chair in front of the man as the three of them took their seats again. "So what can we do for you today?"

Trovato stayed standing, moving closer to the table to rest his hands on the top of one of the well-padded chairs, a dominance game Mark was not interested in playing.

"I've heard that lumber company of yours was quite the big investment."

The tension in the room went into the red zone. Yes, the purchase was public knowledge and had been talked about in the media, but as an opening line, it sounded more like a threat. "So?" Mark all but barked, his patience tested.

Trovato shrugged. "Given the recent downswing in the market along with the breakdown in negotiations over the timber-rights with Callahan, you are a little strapped for liquid assets."

Now that was confidential. Mark's temper started to flare. "You have something to do with Callahan backing out?"

The sarcastic smile that eased onto the man's face was uneven, the muscles on the right restricted by the scar. "That family has been through a lot, both the daughter and the father. It's no wonder he's a little, shall we say, fearful."

Suddenly, both Angela and Loretta turned their heads, making Mark realize there was a low growl coming from deep in his chest.

Trovato didn't seem to notice. Lifting his hands and turning his palms to the ceiling, he continued, "I thought perhaps you might be open to a partnership of sorts. This territory still belongs to the Chilvatis"—he glanced at Loretta—"but it is not being used to its full potential. If we worked together, there is money to be made—"

"Not interested," Mark bit out.

Trovato remained undeterred. "We could just come in on our own. I was simply being polite, offering you a cut"—this time it was a nod he gave Loretta—"out of respect for the family."

Respect? The only things The Trovato family respected were violence and power. And if it weren't for the two women grounding him, Mark would have been more than willing to offer some of that up. "Just be aware of who you are trying to fuck with here. It would make for a very crowded affair, what with us, the police, and the green soldiers, not to mention the Marine Corps and FBI, all sleeping in the same bed."

Trovato crossed his arms and leaned back. "Well you have only one-third of the vote in this room. You may have grown soft Spinelli, married to your little police captain, but these women have the Chilvati blood running through them. Augustus never would have passed up on an opportunity this lucrative just to please a piece-of-ass."

Mark shot up, his chair rocketing out behind him, his rage a geyser about to vent. "I suggest you watch how you refer to my wife, Trovato."

Angela stood up beside him, drawing Trovato's glare. "I think you had better leave." Grey eyes shot daggers at the man.

The eyebrow without the scar lifted. "Ahh. . . the Chilvati temper is alive and well I see. This one is much like her father." His eyes snapped to Loretta. "And this one, more like her mother perhaps? Sweet and naive?"

Man, did he have that wrong. How about more like her brother—quick to assess people and quite willing to use their weaknesses against them. It was a highly effective trait in business.

Loretta rose, like a queen from a throne, regal in the calm and cool way she held back any emotion. "We are not interested in your business dealings, Mr. Trovato. We have chosen the path of legality, not stupidity."

"I wouldn't call either Augustus or Gus stupid."

Mark had to smile. The most important thing he had learned while working with the sisters was never to bring up the father or the brother.

"We are done." Loretta walked over to the door, pulled it open, and held it. Meeting adjourned.

With no other options, their guest retraced his steps, but there was no embarrassment or disappointment in his air. In fact, he looked pretty damn sure of himself.

Lisa appeared with the hat, and after Trovato placed it on his head, he gave Loretta one final crooked smile before leaving.

A chill ran down Mark's spine as he watched.

Things were about to get messy.

)l(

Paul stopped in front of the address listed in the file on the seat beside him and took a look around the neighborhood. It was a typical middle class suburb of Washington D.C., safe, clean and well-maintained by all appearances. The houses stood in perfect alignment, identical in their curb appeal, right down to the blooming bushes in the front gardens, the colorful dots continuing as far as the eye could see. Someone had mentioned them recently. Zinnias? Azaleas? Or was it . . . Whatever. Who the hell cares. He took a deep breath to relax. The day was promising to be beautiful and warm at least. He was a little early, so he fished out the list of points he wanted to go over with the Colonel while he waited for Robbie to show up.

Minutes later a rhythmic thumping broke the calm, growing louder and louder and drawing his head up to the rearview. A canary yellow Jeep Wrangler with its top removed pulled up and parked right behind him, the driver a woman, wearing aviators and a ball cap pulled low over long, dark hair. He leaned forward, frowning into the mirror. Was that her? The black letters on the hat read backwards, but it was easy enough to flip the S, P, A, C . . . CAPS.

He groaned. "Guess it's better than F, B, fucking I," he muttered, getting out of his mid-sized rental.

He walked back to where her driver's door would have been, had it not been left in storage somewhere alongside the roof.

The pounding hip hop was silenced with a push of a button.

"This is your car?"

Robbie jumped down to the ground and he took in the crisp white cotton blouse paired with navy blue dress pants while she moved around, storing the hat away and reaching into the back seat to grab her leather tote.

The dark lenses reflected his own image when she came up to stand in front of him. "Yes, it's mine. Surprised?"

"No, I just wouldn't have pictured you in this."

She dipped her chin to glare at him over the Ray-Bans. "Too flashy?"

Shit. She was never going to let that one go. Paul narrowed his eyes. "No . . . I was thinking small sports car if you must know."

Robbie had gum in her mouth, her jaw working like a piston, and he wondered if it was a nervous habit. Then she tilted her head and a pink glob appeared between her lips, only to grow larger and thinner with each passing second. A bubble for Christ's—

Déjà vu threw his mind into a tailspin, firing up memories of being back at the Nest and standing next to her desk. "Hah!" He jabbed a finger at the air between them. "The gum chewer!"

With a flip of her tongue, the blow-up was retracted and popped. "Huh?"

"I do remember you"—he pointed toward her mouth—"with the gum."

"That's what you remember?" Her eyebrows shot up above the metal rims. "Wow."

"That too." He laughed and slapped his thigh. "You were always so annoying."

Her mouth pressed into a thin line, making him regret the choice of words, and he found himself scrambling to change the topic. Toning down the delight in his discovery, he added, "You brought me the Callahan file. Michelle, right? The one shipping rugs out of Pakistan."

"Yeah." She tucked the tote bag under one arm and started walking toward the house. "You know, they are still investigating that poor woman. It's a damn shame. Gus was a real prick."

He had to run a few steps to catch up to her. "I can't argue with that."

They walked the rest of the way in silence until Paul rang the bell. "Let me do all the talking," he told her.

She yanked off the shades and her stare burned with resistance as it met his. "If you think for one second that—" The door opened, cutting her off.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE

What did you think of the Chilvati sisters? Do you think they can handle Pino Trovato and his threats?😳

Paul finally remembered who Robbie is.🙄Took him long enough.

I've had a few people ask about Mark's and Virginia's wedding, so I'm working on a bonus chapter for The Silent Ones. It will be from Janine's point of view❤️Look for that in the coming weeks.

Dedicated to @KarenSampson for supporting all three of my books. Thank you! I must confess, I found her, tracked her down when I saw the great comments she left on a friend's book.😂😂😂😂

Thank you for reading and voting⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️I appreciate it!