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He takes off down the road and I follow him, running top speed as the car speeds away.
Another screech of tires behind us makes me look over my shoulder.
A motorcyclist speeds towards us and as he reaches behind him I know that’s the danger. Not the fucking car getting away from us with Stephanou inside.
Adrenaline launches me forward and I knock Gabe to the ground just as the biker sprays the place with bullets from his machine gun.
Chapter Nineteen
Salvatore
I don’t knowhow we’re still alive.
It was a close call, or maybe it was a message.
One that would work as a message if we lived. I don’t fucking know.
All I know is the man wanted us dead.
Dead… just like Frankie.
You don’t just come for Giordanos like that and shoot two of the main family members. He tried it though because he can. The fucking bastard knew he could. He knew he could kill us.
I’m inclined to believe that was more the intention than the aspect of a message.
The question iswhy.
Why now?
Where the fuck has he been all these years and what the hell brought him back?
We went straight to Pa.
Us the other week gathered in Vincent’s office was one thing. The calling of an emergency family meeting is another.
Now we’re in the meeting room at the family home. Inside around the long mahogany table is Pa who sits at the head. My mother who is hisconsigliere, Vincent, then me, Gabe and Nick.
It’s times like these when I fail to see how we’re supposed to fucking stay in the office and do the books - The accounts.
We’re supposed to stay off the streets and away from trouble.
Like fuck. What happens when the fucking streets come to get us like they did today?
Vincent just got off the phone and looks mad as all hell, no worse than Pa though.
“Speak boy, what the fuck is happening?” he bellows at Vincent.
Him talking to Vincent like that is something else. Vincent’s forty-two and nobody but Pa can make you feel smaller than an ant on his shoe when he’s pissed like this.
“We’re all in danger,” Vincent declares.
“And in what manner are we in fucking danger Vinny?” Pa yells and Ma snaps her gaze to Vincent, eyes narrowed. She’s not the standard Italian mother. Most cook and make sure there’s food on the table and the home is kept in order.
My mother is a woman like that in every sense of the word but she’s queen of the pack.
“Vincent please answer your father,” she says, her even tone doesn’t match her angst filled expression.
“I got tricked,” Vincent states. “A few months back I was under investigation by the feds. I had to speak to them.”
