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“I’ll say it,” Santo said, making everyone look in his direction. “Drive-bys. That’s… gang shit. Organized crime, they don’t do that. Not anymore. So it’s not another Family. It’s not the Irish or the Bratva. Who’ve we fucked with that has gang affiliations? Or, more specifically, who has Nino fucked with that has gang affiliations?”
That was the question of the day.
And nothing and no one came immediately to mind.
“I haven’t had a big job in a while,” I reminded them. I’d been working kind of half-pace since I’d bought my house. I wanted to devote time to that, so I’d been doing jobs with some of the other guys, but not running my own ones for a long time.
“But you do seem to be the only target,” Dante reasoned.
“Yeah, seem to be,” I agreed.
To that, Luca let out a sigh.
“Okay. We need to go over every job you’ve ever done. Then figure out who any of those people might have connections to street gangs. Or would be willing to work with them.”
Because most higher-up organizations didn’t outsource.
And we definitely didn’t outsource to rookies.
“Drive-bys are so messy,” Lucky said. “Who would be this reckless? In a neighborhood like this?”
“Reckless,” Dino repeated. “Or just don’t care about collateral damage.”
“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Luca decided.
I wanted to disagree.
But if someone was willing to do a drive-by, what was to stop them from infiltrating my house? Shooting me in my sleep?
I did have to leave.
“Savannah.”
I didn’t realize I’d even breathed out her name until Luca was nodding at me.
“Yeah. I think she needs to go with you at this point too,” he agreed.
Shit.
Not only were we going to need to have that talk I’d been dreading, but now I was going to force her to go to a safe house with me until shit got sorted out.
“You should go up and talk to her,” Matteo said.
“Right. Yeah,” I agreed, exhaling hard as I sat my gun down on the table.
“Here,” Santo said, handing me a bottle of scotch. “She might need a drink for this.”
I took the bottle, then made my way up the stairs.
A part of me noticed the wreckage all around. The holes in priceless antiques. The real glass window panes shattered.
The other part, though, was focused on the talk I was going to have, the woman I was going to need to break some not great news to.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the bathroom door.
And there she was.
In the tub, the sheet draped over her.
