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Two quick mental jumps and I thought I knew exactly why that was. Penny had been working for Michael and found herself the target of several other families. They’d decided she must know what was going on with the Rossi family—which she didn’t—and had come after her. We’d spent the last week protecting her and trying to shake the people who’d been trying to steal her.
One of whom was Anthony Massimo.
The Massimos were hassling the Rossis, using their pets, the Carusos. We didn’t know why or what they wanted, but they’d been killing Rossi and Brennan soldiers.
And the Massimos had been the ones following Penny.
If Joseph thought this attack was something to do with the Rossis and wanted Penny sheltered...
An attack in Manhattan.
Right after an invitation from Anthony to come down and see him play. At a bar. A bar in Manhattan.
Oh my God.
“What’s going on, Brooks?” Penny asked. “I can see you going through the steps and I know you’ve got the answer. What the fuck is this text about?”
I had my purse in one hand already and grabbed her hand with the other. “I don’t know for sure. He didn’t give me any more information than he probably gave you. But I’m guessing there was an attack on a family in Manhattan. And I’m guessing that family is the Massimos.”
“And we’re what? Going to run down there and find out?” she huffed.
I noticed that she was keeping pace with me, though, which meant that she wasn’t going to argue with me when I said yes. Penny might be a lot of things, but she’d never been timid. Sure, she looked like a sixteen-year-old goodie goodie, but the truth was, she was nearly as dangerous as the rest of us. Partially because people never saw her coming.
“We’re going to find Sloane and figure out what’s going on,” I said firmly. “Unless you want to hunker down here and wait for the guys to come give us their version of the story.”
“And I’m guessing this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’re worried about Anthony,” she said.
It had everything to do with the fact that I was worried about Anthony. I’d thought he was just another mark. Just a source. But the second I’d realized he might be in danger—that this attack might have happened in the very bar he’d invited me to, and that it might have included him—I’d realized that I was wrong.
He might be a Massimo. He might be on the wrong side of this war, and I might not know whether I could trust him or not. But somewhere between finding out where he was playing and being pressed up against the rail of his boat, appreciating the hard length of him and remembering all the things we’d once done together, I’d let down a few walls.
My body had remembered who he was to me.
And now my heart had evidently caught up.
My brain? My brain just wanted the information he might be able to give us. It wanted to save my friends and family by handing them the answers to the questions we still had. But my heart was a whole lot more invested in making sure Anthony was still alive.
And right now, for possibly the first time ever, I was listening to my heart instead of my brain.
* * *
“What do you know?” Sloane snapped, sliding into the passenger seat of the car and throwing her purse into the backseat.
She’d been out when the call to hunker down went out, and after a hurried phone call we’d headed for the café where she’d been sitting. As long as we were out and disobeying orders, we’d decided that we’d rather do it together. Besides, I needed Sloane’s analytical mind. I was all emotion and no logic right now, and I needed her to bring me down.
And if we were going to be heading into war, I figured three heads were better than just two.
“Almost nothing,” I told her. “But I’m guessing the family that was hit is the Massimos, and I’m guessing it happened at the bar where Anthony is supposed to be playing tonight.”
She paused for a moment, giving her mind a chance to work through that, then said, “Have you bothered to text him to ask? Who would attack the Massimos? And why would Joseph care?”
I yanked the wheel and sent the car into a skid around the corner, then jammed on the gas and sent the car streaking toward the bar I needed. Yes, I’d fucking texted Anthony.
He’d yet to answer me, though, and that pissed me off so much that I skipped right over that question and went to the next one.
“Who would attack them? I don’t have a fucking clue. Why would Joseph care? Probably because the Massimos have been sending the Carusos after the Rossis and Brennans. And if the Massimos found themselves on the wrong side of an attack, they’re going to guess that the Rossis and Brennans are behind it. It’s called retaliation.”
Look at that. My brain was working after all. I’d just needed to give it a moment.
