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Then I hear a scream.
Kelly’s inside. That window is the second-floor sitting room where she’s been working.
I’m running inside of a burning house. There’s no way that we can keep this away from the fire service. I have to get Kelly out.
I’m running up the stairs. Kelly’s stumbling around in a smoky hallway.
“Kelly!”
I pull her away from the fire. She’s coughing really hard. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve brought in some kind of mask. I take off my shirt, tear it into two pieces, and put one piece over her face. She gets the idea and holds it over her nose and mouth. I cover my nose and mouth, too. It’s hard to see in here.
There’s a lot of smoke. I think that there’s only fire in one room. I’m yanking her down the stairs right now. When she stumbles, I throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She’s coughing really hard, despite the makeshift mask.
Then we’re coming outside into the fresh, clean air. I can hear the wail of sirens.
I put her down on the grass outside.
“Kelly.”
She’s coughing uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face. I can’t believe that I put in her in danger. She’s far too young to die. Ariana doesn’t care about the death toll as she takes over our operations.
I realize in this moment that Kelly is Ariana’s opposite. Kelly would never try to take over my organization.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper so quietly that I don’t think she can hear it. A little louder, I say, “We’ll get you to the hospital as soon as we can.”
Then the sirens are louder than ever. A fire truck and ambulance are rolling up. The firemen are running like crazy.
“Is there anybody in there?”
“Nobody.”
The firemen are pulling the firehose out. I’m sitting on the ground next to Kelly as I watch them put out the fire.
Then I see the police car. I jump to my feet.
“What the fuck are the pigs doing here?”
“They come out for every fire call. Could be arson.” Kelly’s voice is very thin and weak. I think that the smoke damaged her voice.
I don’t recognize the men coming out of the police cruiser. A chill runs down my spine. These men don’t look like policemen. They’re feds.
“Iacopo Genovese?”
They have on FBI windbreakers.
“How can I help you?” I say as if my house isn’t literally burning beside me.
“We’re worried about the fire in your house. Might be arson. Mind if we take a look around?”
“You guys don’t look like arson investigators.”
“We have a diverse skill set.”
I realize what Ar
iana did. She doesn’t mind taking down the Genovese family by putting me in jail. Now that they can get into my house, she thinks that they can access my records.
I’m not an idiot. They’re not at home.
