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He nods, letting that sink in. “Okay, the shooter is a hired gun. Hitman. Assassin. Maybe if you tell me more, I might be able to tell you who he was. The list of men with the skills and either the guts or insanity to make a hit inside Petals is pretty small. The suit was Carlos Rivaldi, bastard son of Sal Rivaldi. Names mean anything to you?”
I shake my head, and he scoffs lightly, smiling a little. “So fucking innocent. Let’s rewind. Meghan, you know Petals is a money laundering front for the mob and Dominick is The Boss, right?”
I squint, making sure I heard right. “Wait, Boss? Money laundering?”
Shane nods. “Boss. As in, Boss of the Angeline family.”
I shake my head vehemently, but after a moment, my brain whirls. I think back to some of the customers, the business meetings in Dominick’s office, and the large security team that has always made me feel safe. Petals is a small club. There should be no reason they always have three and sometimes four guys working security. I thought it was because of the clientele, a sense of fancy-schmancy to make the celebs feel like VIPs.
I gasp, looking at Shane. I knew Dominick was a shrewd businessman, but the level of what I’ve walked into . . . did my former boss, Donnie, know when he came up with this idea for me to work undercover? Does Jeanine know? Do they even care that I’m covering stupid celeb gossip in a freaking mob club? Oh, my God, everything I’ve been doing suddenly seems so much more dangerous. My reporter senses felt like there was more to Petals, but something like this never even occurred to me. How could it have? It’s crazy. “Dominick is The Boss? Holy frack. But . . .” My words stutter, another thought jumping forward. “Oh, no! Allie!”
Shane shakes his head. “Allie is fine. She’s Dominick’s. Well, she isn’t, but she might as well be by the way he looks at her and I suspect feels about her. He wouldn’t touch a hair on her head unless she directly betrayed him. That’s why I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?” I ask, the reporter in my head pushing back the fear. It’s not hard. Right now, I’m pretty sure that information means life, and Shane’s about my only source of more information.
“Dominick is the head of the Angeline family, who are basically mortal enemies of the Rivaldi family, even though there’s been peace for years. It’s been a Cold War in the area, two sides that posture and talk a lot of shit, but nobody’s been willing to actually draw blood. Still, it’s not like Carlos Rivaldi was welcome inside Petals. So why was Carlos in Dominick’s club? The Rivaldis have their own bars, their own club. So why would he be at Petals?”
He looks to be thinking for a moment, but my mind has already begun rolling, considering angles and strategies and manipulations. It’s what’s given me my best stories, being able to see all the possible motivations and consequences of people’s actions. “Maybe he was a spy? Or you said he’s the bastard son. Maybe he’s pissed at that label and wanting to stir stuff up? Or maybe someone just invited him to come check out the show and have a drink? It could be anything.”
Shane rubs his jaw, his words coming slowly as he considers my comment. “You’re right. Carlos could’ve been spying for his daddy, in which case Dominick would be pissed as fuck and could’ve hired the hit. There’s another option though.”
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding when I understand a moment later. “Dominick invited Carlos.”
Shane nods. “If he thought he could bring Carlos on board, it’d have changed the entire game in this part of the country. The Angelines are the big dogs by far, but it wasn’t always that way, and the Rivaldis do have some pockets of power. Sal Rivaldi’s getting up there in years. The issues between the two families started with Dom’s daddy. If Dom and Carlos thought they might be able to forge an undercover alliance and get Sal to retire quicker, either voluntarily or the hard way . . . Daddy Sal might have heard about it, and he’s not the kind to forgive treason, even from his own blood.”
I swallow, feeling like I want to throw up. Down the rabbit hole, and I’m still not sure how deep I’ve gotten. “He’d kill his own son?”
Shane nods once, chuckling darkly. “Carlos is his bastard son. He just found out about him a few years ago and there’s no love lost. Apparently, Sal had a one-night stand when he was trying to make inroads with the Colombians, and he left Carlos’s mom with a souvenir.”
“And he never knew?” I ask, and Shane nods.
