Page 168 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Camilla says hello,” his brother-in-law said.

Cross scratched at the underside of his jaw. “I meant to come over and have dinner the other day, but shit happened.”

“Shit like my father telling you to get your ass out of this city?”

“Kind of like that.”

“Yet here you are,” Tommaso said.

“Tom, let me ex—”

“I don’t think I need you to. It looks to me like you’re about to steal our guns.”

Cross tipped his head to the side. “Well, yeah?”

The truth was supposed to set a man free, after all.

Tommaso did not look impressed.

“Theo has a guy come around and check on the warehouse once or twice a night, but the guy asked me to do it for him tonight as he had a thing to handle. I did not think I would find you here.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I doubt that.” Tommaso let out a hard breath. “What, was fucking us over on gunrunning not enough for you? You figured why not sneak in and steal their shit, too? Jesus, I didn’t peg you for the type, Cross.”

“You know I’m not, man.”

Tommaso had to know that about Cross, if nothing else. The two young men had worked together since before Tommaso even had his goddamn license to drive. It was Cross who championed Tommaso to Camilla when his sister wavered on settling down, or running scared from her feelings. They had known each other for a decade.

Tom was one of the very few people Cross considered a friend. He didn’t have a lot of those. They were more trouble than they were worth.

“Then what are you doing here?” Tommaso asked.

Cross shrugged. “I need guns, and you have them.”

“Cross—”

“Tom, I don’t have a lot of time. I need you to look the other way, and pretend like you didn’t see me here. Just let me take the fucking guns, and we can work the rest out at another time.”

“You’re insane.”

“Right now? Yeah, a little bit.”

Tommaso scowled. “How about this? You get your ass out of our warehouse, and I won’t tell the boss what I found you doing. Then, I won’t have to explain to my wife how I got her big brother killed. That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“Sorry, can’t do that.”

“Cross, we good, or …?” Zeke hollered out from the office.

Tommaso’s glare turned back on Cross. “You brought someone else here?”

“Yeah, a friend. Mind your fucking business. I told you to look the other way.”

“And I told you I can’t—”

“Tom, they have Catherine,” Cross interrupted quietly. “I know you don’t know a whole lot about my personal life because I don’t share that shit, but here it goes. Catherine Marcello is my life. Everything about it, she is it. Personal. Public. Love. Hate. Every single little thing about me, is that woman. She has been my whole life since I was fourteen years old. Always. And they have her. I need guns; you have them. So right now, I need you to let me take them, and we can deal with the rest later.”

Tommaso stilled on the spot.