fact that his expression was crazy intimidating. He carried himself with the same kind of swagger Genna used to see in her father, that untouchable 'I do what I want, just try to stop me' attitude. With just a look she pegged him as part of the mob. The question was which part... what family did he come from?
Not that one was better than another. The fact that any of them might've found them wasn't good at all.
"Why?" she asked defensively, taking a step away, creating some distance between them as she regarded the man. "Because I'm a woman? Because I'm pregnant?"
"Because it's not yours," he answered, approaching the car and peering inside of it.
"How do you know it's not mine?"
"For one, you hotwired it," he said, surveying the interior. "It would've been easier to just shove something in the ignition."
"I didn't want to damage anything." Was he seriously giving her grand theft auto pointers? "Figured I'd stumble upon the key eventually."
The man didn't respond to that, circling the car. Genna's eyes darted around, her gaze flickering back into the house, planning an escape route.
"Did you learn that from your father?"
That question damn near stalled Genna's heart. "What?"
"Hotwiring cars. Is that something your father taught you?"
Genna swallowed thickly. "I taught myself."
"Interesting."
"Why? Because I'm a woman?"
"It has nothing to do with you being a woman," he said, pausing beside the car, "and everything to do with your father being Primo Galante."
The sound of that name on the stranger's lips made Genna lightheaded. Primo Galante. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't have to lie to me. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't. I'm not in the business of hurting pregnant women."
"What about the non-pregnant ones?"
"Only when necessary."
"Well, at least you're honest," she said, clutching her stomach.
"You can relax," he said. "I'm not here for you."
"Why are you here?"
"I was nearby on business and figured I'd check on the property."
Her brow furrowed. The property?
"I inherited it years ago," he explained, "but I have no use for it, so when Amaro asked about a safe house, I offered it up."
"Oh, it's yours."
"Technically."
The man reached inside the car, flicking the wires apart, cutting it off. It struck her then, as she watched him. He knew the car didn't belong to her because it belonged to him.
"I didn't know," she said, motioning to the car. "I knew it belonged to somebody, but it was just sitting there, and that was kind of sad, you know? Because it's a great car, and really, it's a shame to let it rot."
"It is a shame," he agreed.
"You said you inherited this house, right?"
"Yes."
"Can I ask you something about it?"
"You already did."
Genna couldn't tell if the guy had deadpanning down to a science or if he just legitimately left his sense of humor back wherever he came from. "Can I ask you some more stuff?"
"If you insist."
Something told her he wasn't the kind of guy who took kindly to insisting, so she treaded lightly. "The people that used to live here, the family… what happened to them?"
He didn't answer right away, his attention on the car still.
"I mean, I know it's none of my business," she continued. "But I've been living here in their house, surrounded by their stuff, and really, let's be real… there isn't shit to do out here except think. So I was just thinking, you know…"
"About what kind of people would live in his hellhole?"
She hesitated as his eyes shifted to her. "Basically."
"Long story short, they're dead, for the most part."
He didn't elaborate.
"Is this like an Amityville Horror type deal? You know, one goes nutso and kills the rest?"
"Not quite."
"Well, can you maybe make that short story version a bit longer here?"
He walked around the car, coming closer, and leaned against the side of it. "The woman was psychotic. The man thought isolating her here would help, but isolation doesn't solve problems. It just narrowed the pool on which she could prey. She drank herself to death, alone and miserable, long after driving everyone else away. The man didn't live long enough to see that happen."
"What happened to him?"
"He got himself killed."
Whoa. "And the kids?"
"Girl grew up to be just like her mother. Got herself killed, too. Man didn't live long enough to see that, either."
"And the little boy?"
"He suffered the worst fate of them all."
"What happened?"
"He gets to stand here and entertain your questions."
She gaped at him. "You?"
He extended his hand. "Corrado Moretti."
"Genevieve Galante," she said, shaking his hand. "Call me Genna… or