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Taz stood in the corner, silent, looking equal parts relieved and annoyed.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, can we celebrate the bastard being dead?” Frankie went to the bar in the corner and started pouring amber whiskey from the decanter. He lifted a glass toward me, but I shook my head. I’d already had my fair share of celebratory “Cy’s dead” drinks.
“Frankie’s right. We may not like how it happened, but it’s done,” Mickey added, taking a tumbler from Frankie.
I picked up the phone and took it off speaker. “You’re coming home.”
The guys pretended to give me privacy as they gathered around Frankie.
“Thanks to you. God, I love you.”
“I love—”
The door to the office swung open, and two of the guys from Carmine’s warehouse rushed in with their guns drawn.
As I turned, my hand dropped from my ear, and I found myself face-to-face with Lorenzo and his gun.
“What are we celebrating, gentlemen?” Lorenzo asked, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing the muzzle of his gun to my temple. The phone fell from my hand and bounced under a chair.
“Let her go,” Marco bellowed, his gun pointing at Lorenzo, unconcerned that he had two guns trained on him.
Lorenzo’s hold tightened, and he brushed his nose along the shell of my ear. “I don’t think I will.”
“Lenny. Johnny. You’re fucking dead,” Frankie spat.
“Please. What are you going to do, pretty boy? Tell Carmine?” Johnny laughed and nudged Lenny. “What do you think, Len? Should we be worried?”
“Nah,” Lenny sneered. “Carmine’ll be too busy being dead.”
Another dark-haired man came in, closing the door behind him.
“Vinnie?” Frankie scoffed. “Un-fucking-believable. Is Franco coming too? Are you and your brother really siding with this asshole?”
Vinnie wiped his nose, smirking. “Franco’s loyal to Luca to a fault. He’s too close-minded to see the future of the family.”
“And what exactly is the future of the family?” Marco stepped out from the pack, and Lenny took a step back. “Enlighten me.”
Lorenzo gave him a feral grin. “Me.” Marco barked out a laugh, and Lorenzo’s hand twitched, making the gun dig into my skin. “What’s so funny?”
“You. What do you have to offer the Morettis?”
“You’ll see.”
Aldo and Joey took small steps, putting themselves in line with Marco, their hands resting near their sides.
“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Lorenzo pointed his gun at them, and they froze. “Stay where you are. Your turn is coming. How are you doing, love?” he whispered in my ear.
“I’d be a lot better if I could put a bullet in you too,” I said without thinking. Apparently, murder made my mouth reckless.
“Too?” Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
“Uh, boss,” Lenny muttered, staring at his phone.
Lorenzo huffed against my neck, making me cringe at his closeness. “What?”
“Cy’s not coming.” Lenny held his phone, so Lorenzo could see it. There, in high resolution, was Cy’s dead body, just as I’d left it, crumpled on that leather chair.
“How is this possible?” He turned us toward Lenny and Johnny.
