Page 58 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Someone’s going to need to get it closed.”

His friend sounded so far away, yet still close.

“I mean, I guess your nose isn’t broken. That’s a plus.”

Zeke’s attempt at humor did make Cross chuckle even though he still couldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t think that particular thing was good. The laughing made his chest hurt like hell, though, and he coughed through the ache.

“Ow, fucking hell,” Cross mumbled.

“Who came in on you like this?” his friend asked.

Easy, careful touches pressed on Cross’s face.

“How long have you been on the floor?”

More touches, and low cusses.

“Your face is fucking battered to hell,” Zeke said quietly. “What did they hit you with that your eyes are swollen shut, man?”

“Marcello.”

“What?”

“Dante.” Every word hurt. Every inch of him hurt. “Dante Marcello.”

Zeke swore heavily. “No way.”

“Just get me off this fucking floor.”

“And then what?”

Cross didn’t know. He only knew what he had been told. New York was not safe for him. It wasn’t safe for his family, either. At least, not while he was there, too.

Anything else was details.

Those didn’t help anybody.

Cross’s fingers felt as stiff as they had that night Zeke found him bloodied, beaten, and damn near dead on the floor of the penthouse. He stretched his fingers, and curled his hands into fists, cracking knuckles in the process.

“Sir, can I help you?”

He walked straight on past the girl standing at the podium, and further into the restaurant. He didn’t even look at her when she called for him a second time.

Cross knew this particular restaurant that was owned by Lucian Marcello. He had eaten in it once or twice. A quick scan of the main floor told him that Dante wasn’t eating with the regular patrons. The restaurant was fitted with a private dining area, and a man stood at the entrance of the section with his hands clasped at his front.

An enforcer.

Any made man knew what one of those looked like.

Cross headed that way.

Instantly, the enforcer caught his eye and put a hand up. “The boss is—”

Cross put his own hand into the guy’s face and shoved him aside. Quickly, he stepped inside the private dining area. Three people sat along the far windows. Two men with their backs turned to him, and a red-head staring out the window.

He didn’t need to see their faces to know who they were.

Lucian, Dante, and Catrina Marcello.