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“NATE, TELL MOM I’Mgoing back to the city instead,” Rebecca said softly into her phone when we all got back in her car, minus Gil. “I’m fine. It’s been a long week and I have work to do. I can’t take anymore potato salad.”
We’d been plied with disgusting catered food for five days. My palette needed to be cleansed with a well-aged steak. And expensive scotch.
Rebecca said a few more muffled things to Nate then shut down her phone. “They didn’t hear the shots. Their car was first to leave.”
Vale cleaned up Becca’s headwound which was shockingly small. Forehead cuts notoriously bled like a motherfucker. Liquid stitches did the trick.
Her Town Car, the Executive Series model had a side bench. Still four men, one driver, and Rebecca meant we were cramped. Just by luck, I got her next to me, and I tucked her under my arm.
“How the fuck did this happen?” I asked Bastien and Giancarlo, and then looked at Vale. “This is how you protect her?”
“There were one hundred people there, Anthony,” he bit back, thanks to the freedom he had with my Becca. “Was I supposed to frisk everyone?”
I hated the asshole sometimes, but his attitude kept my Becca alive.
“We weren’t prepared for this,” Bastien said, his hands covering his mouth. “I don’t know if that makes us stupid.”
“Naïve,” Giancarlo commented. “You guys have guards, but we don’t walk around in riot gear. We keep everyone in fucking line. No one has anything to gain by taking a shot at us. Or her.”
“She’s got no back up,” Bastien said.
I held Becca closer. “Sure, she does. Us.”
Bastien stared at me and I noticed Giancarlo had as well. “Not us,” he said. “Our fathers are her backup technically. Namely, yours.”
“Are you suggesting my father hired that dog we buried?” I bit out to him.
“Guys, please don’t fight,” Becca said softly. “I have a splitting headache on top of everything else.”
“Where are we?” Bastien looked out the window.
“The L.I.E., sir,” the driver answered.
“How long until we’re back in the city?”
“We can pick up the HOV lane in a few miles. Maybe thirty minutes after that.”
“Sorry if we’re getting loud, Becca,” Giancarlo said. “But, yes, I absolutely think your father hired that dog, Messina. Nothing against you.”
“Great.” I sat back and looked at Bastien. “Did your father get out of the car to see if his queen was all right when the hitman fired his gun? Or help us stop him? Between him and his guards that was another four guns.”
Bastien’s eyes narrowed at me. “No.”
“See,” I said. “Papa leaving doesn’t mean he paid the guy to kill Becca.” There I was defending my father without any evidence for or against.
“Yeah, and before anyone asks, my family car took off too,” Giancarlo bit out. “Unlike you two, my mother knows what the hell is going on with us. All of us. She knew if something went down with Becca, I’d be right there. Taking the bullet for her.”
“That’s your mother,” Becca said softly against my chest.
“Becca, my father doesn’t want to kill you,” Giancarlo said, but looked at me like he too wasn’t sure.
“Great, we got three suspects. Are we adding anyone else to that?”
“Unless they got together and ordered the hit.” Bastien leaned forward. “Gian, how closely have been tracking that hitman site you found?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Not hourly. First, we have to figure out who that hitman was back there. Then I should be able to track his movements, his digital communications over the last couple of weeks.”
Becca’s driver pulled up to her townhouse. Gil had gotten there already and gave the all-clear signal. Calmly, we got out and escorted Becca inside.
With everyone on the other side of the door, I peered up and down the sidewalk, at all the parked cars, and the houses across the street. I took out my knife and held the blade against my throat. With a trickle of blood on the blade, I held it outward in a combatant stance, declaring war.
If someone was watching, they’d have zoomed in by now.
I annunciated so they could read my lips. “Fucking come near her again, and you will die too.”
