I don’t know if he thought that would buy him more time to take us out and take over the chair. These are questions that I have no answers to. I have no answers to anything right now. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to think of how to save her.
I can’t.
Carlos knocks on the door and says food is here, so I turn off the shower, step out, and dry off. Slip on my t-shirt, pull out my jogging pants, and open the door, letting the steam fill the room. I’m hungry and I just want to go to bed. Everything hinges on the bank tomorrow, and it opens first thing in the morning, so we’ll have breakfast, get in there, and get out.
I send a quick text to Sasha asking about Isabella. She replies,
Sasha:She is sleeping but didn’t eat her supper.
~ ~ ~
We wake up in the morning and head down to the restaurant in the hotel, have a quick breakfast, and then head out to the bank. It’s Friday morning, and I want to get in, get out and back to Chicago with the paperwork, so we can schedule a meeting for either tonight or Saturday morning and get this shit over with.
Carlos pulls up in front of the bank and I step out, adjusting my suit and everyone on the street stops and stares at us. Carlos steps up beside me and we move toward the bank. To them, we look like some scene out of a movie. A black car pulls up in front of a bank. Two six foot three Italian men, with dark sunglasses wearing suits, step out, looking like something out of The Godfather.
Carlos holds the door open for me and I step in, heading to the first desk I can find. There are about seven people in the bank; three of them are bank tellers, and they all just stop and stare. It’s dead quiet here. I head over to the first open teller and asked for Sally Baker.
She steps away and heads to the back office. A few seconds later, a tiny older Italian woman with gray hair comes out from around the corner and approaches me.
“Follow me, please.”
She takes us to a back office and closes a door, signaling for us to take a seat. I undo my suit jacket, sit and cross my legs, clasping my hands on my thigh.
“How can I help you?”
I dig into my pocket, lift the key and twist it in my fingers. Her eyes go wide and her face pinches as she glares at us.
“Where did you get that?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Does it really matter? I’m here for what that key will open.” I say flatly.
She glares at me. “It’s not as simple as that. Your name?”
“Alexander Russo.”
“And his?” she points with her chin.
I grip the key in my fist. “It doesn’t matter what his name is.”
She lifts her chin proudly and moves papers on her desk. “Angelo Gallo was my cousin, and I was left with strict instructions to make sure that I hand this information over to the right person. I thought your father would be the one to retrieve it.”
“Well, he’s not here and I am. So, can you show us the vault or not? I have a schedule to keep.”
She smiles at us. “Cocky, just like your father. I’d recognize those silver eyes anywhere.”
She gets up, and we follow her to the back of the building, where she unlocks a large door. We step into the main area, and there is a table in the center with two chairs. She holds her hand out for the key, and I give it to her. She walks over to the wall, unlocks the little metal door, and removes the tin box.
She puts it down on the table, takes out a key and hands me back the key that Angelo gave us. We both put them in and turnthem at the same time. The lid pops up.
“I’ll let you boys do your business. Tell your father I say hi and tell your mother I miss her. We had quite a time when we were younger. Just leave the box on the counter and I’ll put it away. Whatever Angelo left in here, I hope you find the answers. I miss him every day.”
With that, she leaves, and Carlos and I step up to the box. I lift the lid, and inside is a brown envelope, and that’s it. I don’t really know what I was expecting; a gun, diamods, fuck anything more dramatic than another plain brown envelope.
I pull it out and flip it around, looking at it. Nothing is written on it, and it’s sealed. I hand it to Carlos and drop the lid.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here and go back to Chicago. I want to know what’s in this.”
Once back at the hotel, I text my father and he is setting up a meeting for tonight. We grab our shit and check out, heading to the airport. I check my messages on the way and there's one from Danny. I just shake my head. What now?
