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“What’s up?” Damianasked.
Cole didn’t mince words. “There’s been an explosion at the Tribecaapartment.”
Damian eased Aria off him as he sat up. “Tribeca? The whole building or just myunit?”
“Just yourunit.”
“Injuries?” Damianasked.
“No. It was carefully constructed to be contained,” Colesaid.
Damian stood. “Amessage.”
“Looks thatway.”
“Security pick anything up on the cameras?” Damianasked.
“They’re pulling the footage now,” Cole said. “But… well, I hate to say it, the apartment is aloss.”
Damian didn’t give a fuck about the apartment. He hadn’t stayed there once since the night of Primo’s death. He assumed Malcolm and Stefano knew that, which made the hit even moreominous.
The message was clear: I’m going to hit you where youlive.
An attack on Westchester would benext.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Damian said, hanging up thephone.
Aria was sitting up on the couch, her eyes bright. “Whathappened?”
He didn’t even think about keeping the details from her. “Someone hit the Tribecaapartment.”
“Someone?” She lifted her eyebrows. “You mean Malcolm andAnastos.”
He nodded and paced the room. He hadn’t expected them to come for an apartment he didn’t live in anymore, which was exactly why he should have expected it. Every attack they’d perpetrated over the past six weeks had beenunexpected.
He should have known better. Should have left the place guarded in spite of his absence. Someone in the building could have beenkilled.
But hindsight was bullshit, a waste of time. The only thing that made sense was to look forward, to ensure something like this didn’t happen again, to make sure they didn’t come forWestchester.
ForAria.
He thought about the meeting that morning at the Syndicate’s New Yorkheadquarters.
He didn’t want to bring anyone else into his operation. It was already pissing him off that he hadn’t finished the job in New York, that Farrell and Nico and the others were still trying to bring New York under control when word was, Vegas needed theirattention.
He was a fuckingprofessional.
And this was notprofessional.
“What are we going to do?” Ariaasked.
“I’m going to make a call,” Damian said. “Then we’re going toTribeca.”
She stood. “I’ll get mycoat.”
He waited for her to leave to dialFarrell.
“I just heard,” Farrell said without preamble. “What do youneed?”
“Locke Montgomery’s phonenumber.”
