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What was there to say? I was a traitor. I chose Enzo over my own flesh and blood.
The worst part? I’d do it again.
“There’s a hit out on our father,” I said as my fingers squeezed around the vodka bottle.
Ro cocked his head. “A hit? How—”
I shook my head. “Don’t ask me how I know. It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Is anyone else called pussycat?”
“Fuck,” Ro said as he wiped a hand through his hair and exhaled. “You know there's a hit out on you, too, right?”
My jaw went slack. “Wh-what?”
“People think you killed Silvio.”
My eyes widened. “What?”Oh fuck.“I didn’t kill Silvio!”
“Weknow that, but try to tell that to his brothers. You being here just brings more heat on us.”
“So what? You want me gone?”
Ro shook his head. “You can’t stay here.”
I swallowed hard. Where the hell would I go? I purposely isolated myself the last few years, trying to pull away from the business. I wanted to make a clean break. Or try to.
I racked my brain, trying to think of someone I hadn’t already fucked or fucked over. I hadoneplace I could go, and it was with someone I never thought I’d have to ask a favor from.
My eyes locked on Ro’s, pleading without words but knowing he was right. I couldn’t protect my father if I was drawing heat of my own. “Fine, but promise me one thing...”
“What?”
“Protect him, but don’t tell him I told you,” I said with a defeated drop in my shoulders.
“I won’t,” he said as he drew me in for a hug. I held my arms out at his affection. It felt as if he was saying goodbye. He wasn’t allowed to say that to me. Not yet.
* * *
My car smelledlike me with a hint of lingering cigarette smoke. I was glad to be back in my own vehicle. My hands on my own wheel. What I didn’t like was where I was heading—to the home of an old friend who’d been out of the game long enough to have become obsolete. The only person who could provide a sanctuary for me.
I drove through busy city streets until I parked in front of a high-rise building. Apartment windows lined its walls. I leaned back and let my eyes crawl up until I spotted a soft light where his apartment was. I got out of the car and walked to the stoop and hit the button on the call box. A loud buzzing broke the silence.
“Hello?” came a drowsy voice from behind the speaker.
“I’m here to visit Rosario Esposito. Apartment 402.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Please hold while I call him for approval.”
I leaned against the flaking concrete, tugging my jacket closer to my body. The light flickered above my head as I waited for the man to return. He never came back to the call box, but the sound of the heavy door lock disengaging told me he’d accepted my strange, unsolicited visit.
My heels clicked on the shiny black-and-white tiled floor in the lobby. The security guard waved me off as I walked toward the elevator. The moment I hit the button, the doors spread, and soft music welcomed me inside. The ascent to the fourth floor felt like an eternity in the older elevator, and I felt every lurch on the way up. The bell rang and the doors spread open. I took a moment to ground myself and tried to remember which way his apartment was. I went left, heading down the long hall until I reached the door labeled 402.
