Page 76 of The Fixer

“And he’s been teaching me self-defense. After his friend was murdered a few months ago—”

The women at the table gasped. Marie’s hand shot out to grab Rachelle’s arm while Rebecca and Silvia reached for each other. Rachelle’s face pulled down in a deep frown, sadness weaving through the air around her.

“Mamma, you knew? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Is it anyone we know?”

“I didn’t know him, but I knew of him,” Rachelle said, dipping her chin. “He was a good man who did good things. His loss affected many.”

Silence hummed between us. I was unwilling, unable, to say anything more. Every time I opened my mouth, the wrong things came out. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and never come up again.

“Eliza?” Silvia said, voice too cheery for the dark moment between us. “How would you like to learn to cook something? Maybe you can take it home to my brother.”

“I’d love that.” Relief flooded me, filling my heart as Jet’s sister extended an olive branch that could possibly pull me out of the hole I was digging for myself. “What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe something sweet? He always had such a weakness for chocolate brownies.”

“Oh! I know!” I stood as Silvia did, hope bounding through my chest. “How about some cinnamon sugar cookies? He told me he’s been craving them since we met.”

Rebecca’s mouth dropped open, and a noise that could only be considered a cackle rumbled through her chest. I was sure the woman was crazy. Sure the woman needed some help. But as the others started chuckling, the true meaning dawned. And I knew, it wasn’t her who needed help.

It was me.

19

Jet

For the first time since D’Angelo sent me to work for my father, I felt halfway normal. Eliza would be safe with my family—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. And I was getting shit done to ensure she stayed that way.

Yet a piece of me still felt like it was missing. A large piece in the shape of my crew. With Santini in the hospital and me being forbidden from reaching out to the others, I could only hope whatever Mateo had up his sleeve would be enough.

Zeno had left my apartment before us, saying he had things he had to do. I supposed it was for the best. When Paulo forbade me from reaching out to anyone in his organization, I was sure his lieutenant was on that list.

It was me and Mateo, hunting down the fucking gang that shot up Santini’s car and landed him in the hospital. The gang that had the audacity to come after me and my girl. They would pay, every last one of them. They’d soon realize you didn’t fuck with anyone in D’Angelo’s organization, no matter how far removed.

Mateo had texted me to meet him at one of the Medina safe houses in the city, instructing me to park out back and meet him upstairs. But I did it with my gun at the ready. After Kosta, “safe house” didn’t mean what it once did.

And fuck, if I didn’t want to put a bullet through every fucker I found inside that apartment.

“The hell is going on here?” I demanded once I stepped inside.

Zeno was there, next to Mateo, along with Benny Gallo, Nick Marconi, Mike Fontana, and Scotty Nazario.

My crew.

“You didn’t think you’d be doing this alone, did you?” Zeno asked, eyeing my gun.

“Yes, I’m fucking doing this alone!” I seethed. “Do you realize what this could mean for us? D’Angelo forbade me from contacting them. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“No one’s asking you to talk,” Mateo offered, a wry grin on his face. “You could just sit there and listen. In fact, I actually suggest it.”

“What are you—”

“Sit,” Zeno warned, a sharp bite in his tone. Rarely in the time I’d know the man had he so much as raised his voice.

But, all things considered, he was higher than me in the organization, a lieutenant personally selected by D’Angelo when he was young, and I preferred to keep my throat intact.

I sat, eyeing the man who was more stranger than not. He paced in front of me, scowling as if it was him I’d defied, not D’Angelo.