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Glass shattered against the wall at her side, making her jump. “He’ll do no such thing. Call the boys. Tell them our suspicions were right, and the plan’s a go. If he’s still breathing in the morning, I’ll have their heads.”
Fear eclipsed her heart: fear for Papa, for herself, and even for that stupid man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. She didn’t want him dead.
More, she didn’t want her father guilty of his murder. Forget that it was Roman—he was a cop. She had been taught all her life how to avoid them, how to sniff them out, because crossing a cop was dangerous business. Hadn’t Papa been the one to teach her that?
Had she thought she could convince him to relent, she would have stormed into the drawing room and demanded he take it back. But after her last episode of storming a room after eavesdropping, she didn’t think he’d be willing to listen. But there had to be someone…
Lorenzo. If anyone had a hope of setting things right, it was Lorenzo.
Her stomach churned and her pulse skittered as she took off at a run for Papa’s office and the phone. Time was of the essence. She’d call him, arrange to meet somewhere, and they could plan out what to do.
Papa’s desk was orderly and clean, nothing on it to show the decisions he made there. Not the top of it, anyway. But in that locked drawer she’d been ordered to empty if they ever had to leave town, there was probably plenty.
This would not make its way into that drawer. She’d find a way to stop Papa before those orders could be executed, before Roman’s death could ever be noted as an innocuous-looking payment in one of his ledgers.
She forced down the bile that stung her throat and reached for the gleaming black receiver. Her hand shook as she held it to her ear. “Hello? Operator?”
Nothing.
She juggled the handle, trying to disconnect and reconnect.
Nothing.
She tried dialing Lorenzo’s number directly. Still nothing.
Sabina slammed the receiver back onto its hook, nearly letting loose a choice word. There was no time for this nonsense. She’d just have to go to his apartment. It was inappropriate to go without a chaperone, but at the moment she didn’t care.
The hall sped by as she ran and slammed into the kitchen. She did not look at her mother when she demanded to know why she was in such a hurry. She just flew out the door and called over her shoulder, “I have to talk to Enzo.” Then she tore through the garden and onto the street before Mama could stop her.
The blocks between her home and his had never seemed so long. Every building stretched endlessly between them, and the faster her feet moved, the farther it seemed they had to go. It felt like an hour later that she paused to catch her breath outside the building Mr. Stein owned. Once she’d sucked in a deep lungful of air, she opened the main door and headed up the stairs.
The vigorous knocking reached her ears before she could see who was pounding on what door, but her heart suspected the worst. Seeing Helen in the hall outside Lorenzo’s apartment only confirmed it.
“Helen?”
The redhead looked up with hope instead of guilt, which allayed one suspicion anyway. “Sabina, thank heavens. Do you know where Enzo is?” Helen’s nose was red and her voice had been hoarse.
Sabina shook her head and closed the distance between them. “I was hoping he was home. I tried to call, but there was no service.”
Helen gave a short laugh. “You must have tried when the phones were down to honor Bell. Five twenty-five?”
“I don’t know. I guess it could have been. I didn’t wait to try again, just ran over here.” If he weren’t here, she didn’t know what to do now, either. Panic leapt onto her shoulders and sank in its teeth. “Could he still be at the office?”
Helen shook her head and sniffled. “I didn’t go in today, I was sick—but they had court this afternoon. They weren’t planning on being in the office at all after lunch. Are you okay, Sabina?”
Her knees buckled, and Sabina sank down against the wall. Tears welled up, then multiplied, and she could only manage a shake of her head.
Helen crouched down beside her. “I have a feeling we’re here for the same reason. I was at one of your father’s joints last night and heard something I shouldn’t have. The one time I wasn’t trying to learn something, and I overheard a doozy.”
“He’s going to bump off Roman.” Her voice came out as the barest of whispers.
Helen’s fingers found hers and squeezed. “It’s worse than that, Sabina. It’s Enzo’s brothers he wants to do it.”
“No.” Fierce denial propelled her back to her feet, shut off the tears. She pulled Helen up with her. “We have to stop this, Helen. If my father sanctions the murder of a cop—and if it’s Tony and Val doing it…”
“You don’t have to tell me. It’ll tear Enzo to pieces. But what do we do?”
She shook her head again and wiped at her eyes. Ice. But not numb. No, resolved. She would find them. Somehow. She would stop this. She would not let his brothers break Lorenzo’s heart, would not let their hands be stained with the blood of Roman O’Reilly, federal agent.
