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“Okay…” She grabs my sleeve and pulls me out of the way when the transport driver takes a stretcher from the rear of the van. “And how will they do that?? Just ask nicely?”
I choke out a laugh that borders dangerously close to hysteria. “Yeah. Please, thank you, nine-millimeter guns.” Then my lips peel back in anger. “I’ve half a mind to just go there myself and put a stop to it. After all, these families are just a bunch of over-inflated egos who never truly outgrew the school playground mentality.” I glance across at her and raise a brow. “Honestly, what makes them all so special? What makes them powerful?”
“Uh… probably those nine-millimeter guns you mentioned,” she sniggers nervously. “Or, ya know, bigger guns. I doubt they all use the little ones.”
“Uh huh. But Archer is the police. Why shouldn’t he just arrest them now and be done with it?”
“Not sure it’s that black and white.”
When the little girl is secured inside a bag and zipped up, then placed on the stretcher and strapped down, Aubree turns on her heels and starts toward our car.
“There’s clearly a hierarchy over there between dudes in charge. We don’t much like the schoolyard bullshit,” she adds before I can interject. “But they respect it. Those families respect each other more than they respect the law—and, in a lot of cases, they have the law amongst their ranks.”
“How do you know this stuff?” I follow her to the car and slide in on the passenger side. The moment she drops into the driver’s seat, I look across. “How does Little Miss Peace and Good Vibes know anything about the New York mafia?”
“I Googled it, then I watchedThe Godfatherbefore bed last night.” Grinning, she slips the key into the ignition. “Whateverwethink about all of this doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that these men we think are idiots turn out to be idiots with power and money. They don’t mind hurting other people, they’re not scared of the police, and I suspect if Archer tried to arrest any of them, they’d laugh in his face and possibly end his life.”
Scowling, I look through the windshield and hate how anger and worry bubble through my blood once more. “You think I don’t know this, Aubree? Ilivedin New York. I was medical examiner on hundreds of casesthosefamilies put in the morgue. I know they’re dangerous, but I prefer to think of them as spoiled little boys who like to bully others.”
“It’s your coping mechanism.” Shrugging, she pulls out behind the transport van and follows it onto the street. “I get it. But behind that coping mechanism is knowledge that our guys are in danger. But watchingThe Godfatherhasn’t prepared me for what they’re actually doing. Do they make an exchange, money for their brother? Do they appeal to the godfather himself?”
“Oh my god.” I drop my head back and press my fingers to my eyes. “Please stop saying godfather. You sound insane.”
“He could fix it, right? The guy who is the boss of all the other guys. He could tell Guy A to give Guy B back to his family, no?”
“Sure.” I see stars behind my eyelids. Shapes. Oblivion. “Estefan Cordoza is thegodfather. But he doesn’t do shit for free. Why would he help Micah Malone, and not Emilio Pastore?”
Silence hangs for a beat as she pulls us around a quiet corner. “You just said a lot of names, and none of them were in that movie I watched.”
“The movie isn’t real life!” I lower my hand and turn to her with a sneer. “The movie is fiction, and Cordoza isn’t. Micah Malone is a real dude, and though I don’t much care for him right now, I know Archer does. Emilio Pastore is a slimy old jerkwad who likes to touch women half his age. He marries, he kills, he discards, and then he looks for a new bride. When the last one didn’t—”
And then realization slams me.
“Michelle Mancino…” I turn to Aubree and attempt to breathe past the lump of nerves strangling my throat. “Michelle Mancino!”
“Who?”
“Malones,” I tell her. “Pastores. Cordozas. These are the three main families in the New York criminal world’s playground. But not all that long ago, there was another.”
“Michelle Mancino? A chick ran that family? Badass.”
“No! Michelle’s father ran it. Michelle was just… a hostage, I suppose. But she was the apple in Pastore’s eye. He wanted to marry her. Keep her.Ownher. She was the one and only reason I was able to survive my date with Emilio.”
“Wait.” Aubree jerks the wheel and peers across to me. “You dated one of the godfathers?”
“Stop. Saying.Godfather! And yes. Sort of. I went out on one single date with a dude. He was momentarily charming. Much too old for me, but he was nice, and he was insistent.”
“Right, and we know you respond to insistence,” she sniggers. “And by ‘respond,’ I mean you kick them in the nuts.”
“Well…” A slow grin works across my lips. “I didn’t kick him in the nuts. I said yes, we had dinner. But I didn’t know he was Emilio Pastore at the time. He was just a man in a suit. Luckily for me, he was pining for someone else. I felt icky the entire evening, so I excused myself early, and that was the end of it. I later realized who he really was, and that I was fortunate to have escaped. I’ve never seen, spoken to, or heard from him again. But it would appear the Malones have. I married Archer, word of that got out, Emilio Pastore got a little cranky, and now World War Three is waging in New York City.”
“All because of you.” Aubree sits back in her seat and presses a hand to her heart. “So romantic.”
“Not romantic! What the hell is wrong with you?”
She laughs. “So, Emilio dated you, but really, he wanted Mackenzie Mancino?”
“Michelle,” I correct. Then I realize she’s playing with me. “I know you didn’t forget her name. Yes, he wanted her. Not because he loved her, but remember, four families in the city. That somewhat implies a twenty-five percent split of power. Bring two of those families together by marriage, and now we have a much larger piece of the pie.”
