Dark brown eyes that were almost black focused on her. Filled with such intense sadness, Dez hated that the woman freaked her out so much. But something about Gina Brutale set her nerves on edge.
“Yeah.” She slid off her stool. “Come on.” Gina sucked back the rest of her scotch and dropped the glass on the bar.
She glanced at the women with her. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
The women didn’t respond. Instead, they stared at Dez. Perhaps the most uncomfortable experience she’d had in a long time, and Dez’s job consisted of uncomfortable experiences. But the way they stared at her—that’s what freaked her out. Like they were silently plotting which parts of her body would sauté well in olive oil.
Gina walked away from the bar and Dez followed her, glancing back once at the women. They were still staring at her. She fought the urge to shudder.
Gina walked to an office in a deserted part of the club and went to open the door, but someone pulled it open from the other side. A woman who resembled Gina stepped out. The two women stared at each other. Actually, they really glared. Almost vicious in their intensity.
Eventually the woman’s brown eyes turned to Dez. “Who the fuck is that?”
“None of ya fuckin’ business.”
Dez rolled her eyes. This sounded like one of those typical arguments between girls in her old neighborhood. They usually degenerated into hair pulling until knives were eventually drawn.
She didn’t have time for that.
“Can this wait? I gotta life.”
Gina proceeded into the office. The other woman made to move around her but stopped and suddenly sniffed Dez instead.
Dez reared back. “Can I help you?”
She grunted. “Another one.”
Dez had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t have a chance to ask as the woman walked off.
Shaking her head, she entered the office, closing the door behind her.
“Interesting girl.”
“She’s a bitch.” Gina slid on top of a highly polished mahogany desk. “And my sister. Anne Marie.”
“My sympathies.”
She snorted. “We all have our own personal hell. She’s mine.”
Dez took in the office. Fancy, but it didn’t look very used. Lots of mahogany and glass. It didn’t look like the office of a woman.
“Whose office is this?”
“My father’s. But he doesn’t come here very often.”
Dez almost gave in to her desire to find out more about the well-known but rarely seen Gino Brutale. Instead, she forced herself to remember she was in this club for a reason. Not to see if she could find out more about Brutale’s mob ties.
“So…you wanted to talk to me about Alexander Petrov’s death?”
“Yeah. Ya see, he was…”
The woman struggled with her admission, but Dez didn’t know why. “He was…” she coaxed.
Brutale stood tall, suddenly proud. “He was with me. He was my lover.”
Dez didn’t understand why Gina needed to fear admitting that information. Brutale was no youngster. She appeared to be in her early to midthirties. And it wasn’t like Petrov ran some rival mob family, unless Missy was up to more than she realized. Which Dez seriously doubted.
Dez waited for Gina to continue.
“I saw him the night he died. When he left me that night, he was very much alive. I don’t know if anyone followed him. I do know Missy Llewellyn would lose her friggin’ mind if she knew about us.”
Dez stepped forward. “And did she know?”
“I don’t know. But he was going to leave her and stay with me. I don’t know if he ever got around to telling her that, though.”
“Petrov and Missy Llewellyn were…together? A couple?” Maybe, but who would put up with that heartless bitch?
“It’s too complicated to explain. But, basically, she owned him.”
What the hell does that mean?
“What do you mean she owned him? She had something on him?”
“No. But he belonged to her. She wouldn’t take him leaving well. Especially if he were leaving her for me.”
“Why you? What connection do you have with the Llewellyns?” A Jersey girl like Brutale wouldn’t exactly be welcome at a Llewellyn banquet, and they both knew it.
“Our families have…a history, you might say. We’ve hated each other for a long time.”
“Do you think Missy killed him?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Shootin’ him in the back of the head, though, doesn’t really seem Missy’s style, ya know?”
Dez shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ya.”
“All I’m sayin’ is, you need to look at Missy Llewellyn for this. Look at her close. She shouldn’t be able to get away with this. Just cause he loved me and not her.”
“Yeah. But are you sure he loved you?”
Brutale locked her beady dark eyes on Dez’s face. “What?”
“Maybe you want me to focus on Missy because you want her to suffer more. Maybe Petrov wouldn’t leave her. Maybe he didn’t love you at all. So you got rid of him yourself.” Dez didn’t really believe that, but she wanted to see Brutale’s reaction.
She wasn’t disappointed. She blinked and suddenly Gina Brutale stood right in front of her. Their bodies almost touching. Rage and sorrow came off Brutale in waves, practically knocking Dez out of the room.
“I loved him. He loved me. Anybody tell you different, they’re lyin’. We had plans, him and me. Plans to run this family together.”
“Maybe your father wasn’t okay with that.”
“My father will do what I tell him to do. The women run this family. Not the men.”
Well, that was new. “Okay.”
Brutale glared at her for a long minute. Then she took one step back. Then another. Eventually a good five feet separated the women. But Dez still didn’t feel safe. She wouldn’t feel that way until she got the hell out of the building.
“But I will say this, Detective—whoever killed him better pray to the Mother Mary you get to them first. They
