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hunting rogues. There were dozens of agents in their organization throughout the world,
     but he did not trust anyone as much as he trusted his brothers.
    Perhaps when he found il Diavolo , he could finally find out what had happened to their mama and papa. His brothers
     were all too young to remember them the way he did, but he would never forget.
    Dante knew that at times his brothers thought he was a tight ass who didn’t like to
     have fun, which was probably why he had not listened to his inner instincts at the
     club earlier. He cursed himself for his brief lapse; he would not be that foolish
     again. Dante vowed to wipe out every damn rogue who came his way.
    GianMarco seconded Nico’s opinion.
    “I know how you feel. No one knows about wanting vengeance more than I do. Take some
     time off. We are all worried about you.”
    “It’s easy for you to say, Marco, when you have had your revenge. You were fortunate
     enough to find the rogue who killed your wife and child, but have you really gotten
     over it?” Dante asked shrewdly.
    GianMarco looked as if he didn’t understand, but Dante knew that he did. “What are
     you talking about?”
    “You haven’t painted since Bianca died.”
    GianMarco shrugged. “I just don’t feel like painting. Besides, it’s hardly the same
     thing.”
    “Isn’t it?” Dante raised a brow.
    GianMarco shuffled his feet, looking like he wanted to change the subject rather than
     get into why he no longer painted. “Not really, but suit yourself.”
    “Look, let’s not argue, ” Nico interjected.
    Dante sighed. “Who’s arguing? It’s a simple discussion. I do have another task for
     the three of you, however.”
    “Oh, boy! It’s ass-kicking time!” Romeo chimed in with glee.
    “Can it, Ro. This is serious. Since we are in London already, there is a house in
     Mayfair I want you to visit. I hear that it draws an interesting crowd. See what you
     can find out, and if anyone discovers your presence, take them all out,” Dante instructed,
     before rattling off the address.
    “And where are you going?” GianMarco asked.
    “Back to New York. I have to pay a little visit to our informant.”
    <> <> <> <> <>
    A week later, on a flight back to Washington D.C., GianMarco reflected on the last
     couple of weeks. The nagging comment that Dante had made about him not painting anymore
     bothered him. He tried to push it to the furthest part of his mind. It was no one’s
     business why he chose not to paint anymore, not even his brothers. He frowned as he
     remembered what had happened after they left the hotel the night of the trap.
    When he and his two brothers had gained entrance to the Mayfair house they were scouting,
     they immediately knew why Dante had sent them there. They had hovered in the corner
     of the room undetected, observing what appeared to be a meeting of four ordinary men,
     but who were not ordinary at all. They were vampires, and they all seemed smug about
     something. They had been talking about an induction ceremony of some sort. It was
     only when the name of the woman from the club had been mentioned that GianMarco faltered, foiling their
     cover. The Grimaldi brothers annihilated the four rogues easily, unlike the ones in
     the club.
    These missions were beginning to take more and more out of him. GianMarco was disgusted
     with his performance that night. First, he had slipped up with the redhead at the
     nightclub and then he’d made his presence known to the rogues before they had gotten
     all the information they had needed. His brothers didn’t say anything about it, which
     only made him feel worse. He still wondered what the redhead had had to do with all
     of this. At least they had been able to take out some rogues that night. He would
     take a long rest before going back to the office. He hoped the new administrative
     assistant Oliver hired was at least someone he could stand to look at.
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
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