“Emilio said it’s the same three-man crew we’ve been hunting again. We only have two of them. The third is in the wind, or maybe he wasn’t there that night.”

Stefano didn’t reply. Instead, he stared out the window, his gut churning. They could have killed her. The three muggers were notorious for their violence and it was escalating with every robbery they committed. Vittorio had “talked” with two of them once already when they’d mugged a woman in their territory. He’d gotten her money back from them and made them pay for her injuries. He’d also extracted a promise that no member of the Ferraro community would ever be targeted. That was their one chance. The only chance.

“Are we looking for the other one, Gee?” Stefano asked, still staring out the window at the passing buildings. He loved their small village within the city. He loved the people there. Some he’d known almost from the first breath he’d taken. Others had moved in later, but he considered them all his. Under his protection.

“We’re looking, but so far, nothing. They’ve been living off the grid so there’s no trail at all. The last place they stayed was an abandoned building about three miles outside of Little Italy. We think the third one drives for them and is named Scott Bowen. He wasn’t in the abandoned building. He must have gotten the hell out when he realized it was our family that took his friends. He was either there the night they mugged Francesca or he heard word on the street. But whatever the reason, he’s gone.”

The gates opened and the car slid up the private drive to their sprawling home. The moment they exited the car, Henry, their valet, was there to take the car keys. Both men moved away from the house, selected a shadow and made the ride to the warehouse owned by their family in the very heart of the city, far from their territory. They didn’t want a camera at a stoplight to accidentally catch their car moving through the city.

Stefano jerked open the door and strode through the cavernous space. The smell of blood and fear hit him first. That didn’t surprise him. Emilio and Enzo weren’t known for their kindness to anyone who beat up women. They hadn’t wanted Vittorio to allow the two muggers to walk away when they’d first encountered them. Technically, the two men hadn’t crossed into Ferraro territory, but even if they had no idea Francesca belonged to Stefano, they had to know Joanna did, or they were just plain stupid, coming that close to Ferraro territory.

Tom Billings and Fargo Johnson stared up at him through swollen bloodshot eyes. Emilio had done a number on both of them. Terror entered their eyes when they saw who had walked in. Stefano stood in front of them, but didn’t say a word. He merely reached for the file Enzo handed him. Seeing the thick papers, the two men looked at each other and instantly began fighting the ropes binding them. Stefano wasn’t worried they’d get free. Emilio had mad skills when it came to tying knots. He didn’t match Ricco’s skill, but what he tied up stayed that way.

His cousins had been busy, detailing the muggers’ long history of crimes. Stefano took his time reading. He didn’t skim. When he was deciding someone’s fate, it was only fair to explore every detail, even when the men had put a knife to his woman’s throat. He couldn’t let it be personal, but he found it was. No matter how hard he tried to think clearly, he knew he couldn’t make the decision on what would happen to the two muggers.

“Send for Vittorio and Ricco,” he told Giovanni. “Have them drop whatever they’re doing and come immediately. Ask Taviano and Emmanuelle to come as well.” Giovanni nodded and took the file Stefano handed him. “All of you read that. I’ll stand down from this one and you four make the decision. If there’s an even split, have Eloisa cast the deciding vote.”

“Stefano . . .” Giovanni protested. “You have the right. She’s your woman.”

“No way am I touching this one. Not when I want to rip their dicks off and shove them down their throats.”

Both muggers froze. Billings swallowed hard, shaking his head. “We didn’t know who she was, Mr. Ferraro.”

The knots in Stefano’s belly only coiled tighter. His breath hissed out of him. There was no way to suppress the rage roaring through him. “It shouldn’t matter who the fuck she is, you coward. You don’t put a knife to any woman’s throat. It was just your bad luck that you chose her, but had I heard you did this to any woman again, I would have come after you. Vittorio let you off with a warning and you should have left the city or at least gone to the other side of it and stayed as far from us as you could get.”