“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 better pray I never fuckin’ find out. Cause I’ll kill ’em myself. And I’ll make sure they suffer for what they done.”

Dez didn’t doubt Gina’s words for even a second. She wanted out of this building. She wasn’t even supposed to be on this case. Suddenly, nailing Missy took a backseat to her basic survival.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.”

Dez backed up from Brutale. She didn’t feel comfortable turning her back on the woman. She grabbed hold of the doorknob, opened the door, and eased out into the club.

She cut through the enormous place, including the back bar where she found Brutale. She had to pass the same pack of women, only this time Brutale’s sister was with them. As she moved past them, the lightest touch nipped her neck.

Reaching back, Dez grabbed the hand touching her and twisted until Anne Marie Brutale lay on the floor at her feet, howling in pain. Dez planted her foot in the woman’s side and twisted her arm again. This time even farther away from her body. A few more inches and she’d break the bone at the shoulder.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch me again.” The grip she had on the woman she learned from the Marine Corps. The statement—that was all Bronx.

Gina Brutale walked in. She stared dispassionately at her sister. It had to be the coldest look Dez had ever seen. As much as she detested her own sisters sometimes, Dez would never let anyone else hurt them. Not ever.