The Sicilian I assumed was in charge of the others had to have a spark of recognition, or he’d have already come at me. Instead of answering, he focused on Jamie and Daniel. “Is this a setup?”

Jamie shook his head. “I’ve sure as hell never seen these men before.” He cast an anxious glance at Daniel, waiting for his response.

Oh, Daniel knew. He for damn sure knew who we were now. But he hadn’t expected it to go down like this. He’d been waiting for us to walk into an ambush and get our asses handed to us.

No, kid. Your plan failed.

Daniel swallowed hard. “No, uh . . . clue.” His voice wavered, his acting skills subpar at best. That’d be his shit luck later when he had to explain himself to his boss.

Not my problem. “I’m here for the boy.”

The Sicilian in charge hesitated, his extended arm trembling ever so slightly. He was putting the pieces together. “Who is he to you?”

The slight quiver in his voice said everything. The pieces weren’t just clicking into place. He already knew the answer.

“Who he is doesn’t matter. All that matters is who I am.” My patience was wearing thin the longer he kept his Sig aimed at Colin. “My family is not an enemy your boss wants to have.”

While this guy wasn’t in charge of their syndicate, he had to be high up in the ranks. High enough that the other men in the room had fallen back, deferring to him.

“Your name?” He was trying to hold it together in front of his men, but he was seconds away from pissing himself.

I tilted my head slightly, voice calm and deliberate. “Constantine Costa.” I let it hang before adding, “Of the Sicilian Costas.”

He swallowed hard, his tan skin visibly paling. Eyes closing, he exhaled a slow, shaky breath. Then, his arm dropped to his side.

I could finally breathe again.

“We do not want a problem with you or your family.” His chest expanded as he drew in another breath. He let it go and opened his eyes, his entire demeanor shifting.

“You won’t have one if you let me take him out of here and you never come near him or my family again.” I didn’t need to attach the “or else” there. He knew what had happened to the mafiosi who’d crossed my family in the past. The majority were six feet under or cremated.

I finally looked at Colin, and he was staring back at me with wide, what-the-fuck eyes.

Yeah, yeah, I know. This was not how I planned to introduce myself to him as his father.

“You have my word. My men will let you walk out of here. They will never come near you or the boy,” the Sicilian assured me, his accent much thicker than mine.