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I turn away. I can’t do this.
“How do you want to play this?” Rocco asks suddenly from the back.
Angelo’s eyes meet his in the rear-view mirror. “Exactly how we discussed.”
I turn to Angelo sharply. “So he gets to know everything and I don’t?”
Angelo sighs. “You want to hear fucking soldier strategy 101?” he barks. “It’s the same no matter where we are, the soldiers will be in position. They know what to do. I don’t even want you here, Fynn, but I know you wouldn’t stay back without a fight.”
“Damn straight,” I tell him.
“Roberto will have his own army,” Rocco says. “Make no mistake, Angelo, it could be a bloodbath.”
Angelo doesn’t seem fazed.
I half wonder if he hasn’t lost his damn mind.
Why would he take her?
She was an easy target… maybe… but still… my heart aches for her. I couldn’t stop her from being a target in my own fucking casino. What hope is there for us out there in the real world?
Those old feelings resurface; why we ended things years ago. Me being a Medici was just the tip of the iceberg.
The world we live in is dangerous.
“Call the troops. I need to know their location,” Angelo says.
Rocco does as he says, talking in Italian as he works out the logistics of where we're going and how to access the grounds.
It feels like forever, but we eventually get to the church.
Angelo takes his cell, and I check to ensure my guns are loaded.
I don’t see the car, but somehow, I know he’s here.
He dials a number, then puts it in on speaker.
“Don’t tell me you’ve finally worked it out.” Roberto’s voice is strong and laced with humor as it bounces from the speakers.
“It’s been a long time, Roberto,” Angelo says, his jaw kicking. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ah now, that would mean I’d have to kiss and tell. Something you should know I never do.”
Angelo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you doing this?”
He laughs. “You haven’t figured it out by now, golden boy?”
Angelo stares straight ahead. “I’m here. Which is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? The bombs, the tear gas, it was all a ruse to get me to leave.”
“As the great Don of Boston, I thought you’d have that all figured out.”
“Oh, trust me, cousin, I have it all figured out. I can only hope you brought more than one gun. You’re going to need it.” He ends the call and looks into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”
“We stay low,” Rocco says. “He’ll have his men scattered.”
“And ours?” I ask. “Where are they?”
“Everywhere,” Angelo, Dom, and Rocco all say at the same time.
