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“He’ll want something from you, won’t he?”
“Maybe.” In barter for her to drop the story, or for her life? “You’ll like Merv’s. Great pie.”
From her father, she expected nothing less. Pie wouldn’t salve this ail. Things were heating up. They were getting closer to the fire. Silvio Manzani. If he was responsible, bringing him to justice wouldn’t be easy. No, it would be impossible.
THIRTY-THREE
A MEETING. One they barred her from.
In the breakroom after the sun had set, her family prepared to go out there alone. Without her. Nothing in the trio of men was fazed. They exchanged information, ideas, like this was an everyday occurrence. Maybe once they’d been mixed up with the Manzanis, but back then the crime family was their allies. They’d stood up for the Manzanis, not against them, Ford and Jagg anyway.
Jagg. Why had she done this to him? Why put him in this position? What would he have to give up to keep her safe? The worst part was she couldn’t even ask. She couldn’t go over there and hold him or kiss him or ask him to be careful. Singling him out against her own father and brother would be too telling.
But, damnit, she didn’t want anything to happen to him. To any of them. If something went wrong, all the people she loved most could be taken away from her in a snap. All it took was the wrong word, upsetting someone, and a quick trigger pull would end them.
“Doesn’t matter if we’re armed,” Ford said. “They’ll take whatever we carry.”
Bringing guns would lead to others showing they had firearms too. Introducing them wouldn’t be smart, yet she couldn’t deny wishing they had some form of protection. Especially protection that could be used from afar and didn’t require them to get close to anyone.
“We’ll leave a weapon in the car.”
Sitting on the couch, Sersha at her side, helplessness invaded. “We’ve got to be able to do something.” It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. Sickness churned in her belly. She stood up. “Dad, I’m coming with you.”
“That’s worse than you asking me to take you there,” Ford said, breaking from the trio. “Dad’s going to Hustle.”
“Man can get distracted in there,” Sersha said, rising at her side to tease. “You going to keep your eye on the ball, old man?”
“I’m parking outside, not going into that insanity.”
“You don’t have the best opinion of Evander,” Sersha said. “Don’t let that get in the way.”
“I don’t have the best opinion of any of your men, Scamp. Still keep breathing every day.”
“I can come with you.” Sersha folded her arms. “Evander would come in his pants right there if I walked into his sex club.”
“We’re not going anywhere for fun.” Strat snagged his keys from the island. “I’m sitting there to check Silvio doesn’t call on reinforcements. Every Manzani guy with a pulse goes to Hustle on a Friday night.”
Which was probably exactly why Silvio chose that night for the meeting. Fewer bodies at the Carlyle meant fewer eyes and ears. The don apparently wanted to keep his secret, too much to hope that he was ashamed. Arrogant idiots like Silvio Manzani didn’t know the meaning of the word shame or of guilt.
“If you see them leaving Hustle en masse, you’ll know this is an ambush.”
“We can get out of there if it goes south,” Jagg said. “We’re on alert. We’ll figure it out.”
Winging it didn’t sit right. A plan, something concrete, would be reassuring. Knowing was better than mystery. Though it was exactly that kind of thinking that got them into the debacle.
“This is happening because of me.”
The men were talking to each other again. Grabbing jackets, talking signals and boundaries.
A hand slid into hers. Sersha’s.
“Trust them,” she said. “They know this world.”
And she didn’t. She may be Kurt Stratford’s daughter, that didn’t give her insider knowledge on how the night would go down. Her limited experience meant nothing. Hearing the stories, reading the newspaper, it wasn’t the same. She’d been such an idiot. The danger was real. How had they lived this life for so long?
They’d been right all along. Parentage didn’t matter, she didn’t share the nerve of the brave men ready to go out there and defend her.
“I should be there,” she murmured to the woman at her side. “What if they get hurt because of me?” They’d never forgive her. She’d never forgive herself. “They’re paying the price for my ambition. We shouldn’t be sitting doing nothing.”
