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“Fuck you,” he says but keeps his hands up as I grab him by the back of the neck and steer him into the hall.
Carlo’s there, looking grim. He seems unhurt, thank god, but he shakes his head. “Dead,” he says.
“Seamus?” My captive tries to jerk forward, but the barrel of my gun on his skull makes him stop. “You fucking killed Seamus?”
“Guess we got the right guys,” I mumble as I keep shoving the Irishman back through the ratty living room and into the apartment hallway.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. “Why’d you kill my fucking brother?”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Carlo says, hitting him hard in the guts. He doubles over and I have to keep hold of him to make sure he doesn’t fall. People are looking out of their apartments, and it’s a small miracle that nobody’s in our way.
Carlo’s men are there. His first crew is made up of three soldiers, all of them well armed, all in ski masks. They help drag the Irishman down the steps.
“We don’t have long,” Carlo says. “Got to get out of here.” We reach the bottom floor and hurry out the door. The door’s still propped open, and I make sure it closes once we’re in the parking lot.
I sit in the back with our captive, my gun still on his head. He’s curled up on the seat, hands covering his face. I can’t tell if he’s crying or what but I don’t care. Carlo peels out, flying into the street, and turning left away from the train tracks. In the distance, a police siren wails.
We drive in silence. My heart’s racing. That was fucking close. If we had taken just an extra couple of minutes, the cops would’ve been there way too fast. As it stands, I keep waiting for some trooper to pull us over, but soon the city’s looming in the distance and getting closer by the second. Once we’re in the limits again, I start to relax.
Carlo parks outside of a boring row home deep in the Rossi territory. “We’ll keep him here.” He twists in his seat and stares back at our man. He’s staring down at the floor, his eyes red-rimmed, looking like he’s in a daze. “You alive in there?”
“Fuck you,” he says.
Carlo shoves open the door. “Let’s take him inside and have a conversation.”
The house was set up for situations like this. The basement is soundproofed with a drain in the middle. A single chair’s waiting over the drain. I sit our Irishman down and use a length of rope left for the purpose of binding him nice and tight. Once that’s done, I leave him in darkness and join Carlo upstairs.
“Renzo’s going to be pissed,” I say, grabbing a beer from the fridge. I want something harder but it’s all we have. Carlo accepts one too. We crack them open and drink deep. The alcohol will help soothe some of the adrenaline.
“Yeah, I know. One dead body, which means a fucking murder investigation.” He sighs and leans his head back. “I’ll have to ditch the car.”
“We’ll do it tonight.”
“No worries, I know some guys that can take it off our hands. Fucking asshole had a gun right next to his bed and didn’t even hesitate when I opened the door.”
“Paranoid.”
“No shit.” He laughs, looking a little shaky as he drinks some more. “But we did it. Aren’t you happy I brought the masks?”
I punch his shoulder, grinning to myself. Down below us, strapped to a chair, is the answer to all my problems.
I just have to figure out how we’re going to use him.
Chapter 39
Allegra
I’m a total wreck. From the moment Gian leaves, all I can think about is him getting killed.
I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. It’ll be like all the light in my life getting switched off at once. I finally realized that I want to be with Gian, and not just for some deal; I want to be with him for real. There are too many squishy, overwhelming feelings in my body, and I’m sick of trying to ignore it. I want that man, want him more than I ever thought I could.
He’s good for me. That’s so obvious. He wants me to be happy, even if that means we don’t have the traditional mafia relationship. Everything he’s done since coming back into my life has been in the service of pushing me toward my dream. Getting me back to work, encouraging me to apply to new places. Even though he doesn’t have to, he’s risking his life to fix my relationship with my family.
And the worst part of this is, they don’t deserve it.
Nobody’s called me since my father ex-communicated me. Only Sophia has shown any interest in having a relationship with me. None of my other cousins, none of my aunts or uncles, none of the people I thought cared about me. My father said I was dead and to them, I was dead.
It kills me, thinking about that. I suffer all night imagining Gian injured, bleeding, dying, all for a bunch of people who aren’t worth the struggle.
