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What doespiccolinamean? It sounds so— so —gentle the way he says it. He’s being gentle while he hugs me. I feel completely protected from anything and everything. I feel tiny against him, and I want to burrow closer. Knowing someone’s been in my home terrifies me way more than entering the Polish lions’ den. I would have had no one to blame but myself for that. This is different. This is my home where I live alone.
“How’d you know my place was bugged? How long could they have been there?”
“They’re brand new. There wasn’t any dust on any of them. The door being off alignment made it easy for them to jimmy the lock and get in. Whoever it was knows you’re my lawyer. Either they found out before the reporters ambushed us, and it became public knowledge. Or they did it while you were at work.”
“Who?”
I lean back to look up at him. There’s genuine sadness in his eyes, and it makes me want to comfort him.
“Who isn’t it? The obvious answer would be the Polish Mob. But they’re not the only ones. It could be the Colombians, the Russians, the Irish, the Mexicans, the Albanians, otherCosa Nostra. I can’t be sure yet.”
“I didn’t realize there were that many people who might want me dead.”
“They don’t want you dead,piccolina. They want to know what you know. This is why I wanted a detail assigned to you. This is why I was so pissed that you tried to ditch Afonso and me. From today on, you go nowhere without one.”
“Today on? That sounds indefinite.”
“It is. At the very least, until the case is over. Then I think you should have protection for several months after.”
“I don’t know how to pick a private security company. Do you know any?”
Did his arm just flex? It felt tighter for a moment.
“This changes things. You will trustnooneoutside my family, Sinead. No one. If the man or woman isn’t related to me but says they’re with my family, don’t believe them. Don’t go anywhere with them. Call me or text me immediately. I will answer. If you’re alone somewhere, keep your phone unlocked and in your hand. Pull up my contact and have it ready to call if you feel threatened at all.”
“Gabriele, you’re scaring me.”
Last night was a fucked-up kind of exhilarating when he found me. It triggered some kind of roleplaying fantasy, even though I knew it was not the right time or place. It was because I was certain he was there. He won’t be here every night.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But someone broke into your house and put nearly a dozen devices in here. They wanted to make sure they missed nothing. I don’t want you to stay here right now, but I won’t force you.”
“Where would I go? A hotel? I don’t want to bring this anywhere near my friends, and I have no family around here. I grew up in Rhode Island.”
“I understand. I want you to stay with a woman I’ve known since before I moved to America. She’s like my second mom. She’s my best friend’s mom, and I’ve stayed at her house so many times I have a room of my own there. Her name’s Paola Mancinelli.”
“Like as in the political strategist and campaign manager? Like the woman who picks mayors?”
“To me, she’s just Auntie Paola, but yes. She’s influential. She also lives on her own, but has tons of security on her property. Her son, Carmine, goes there all the time. He and his wife have dinner there once a week.”
“Like a big Italian family dinner?”
“That’s Sundays at Uncle Salvatore and Aunt Sylvia’s.”
“You guys get together every Sunday?”
“Just about. We have a midweek snack at another family home on Wednesdays.”
“Snack?”
“Yes. Three courses instead of five.”
“The other Mr. Mancinelli?”
“Yes, but not the one you met. They have an adopted second cousin. We grew up with his sons.”
“Just how many of you are there?”
“Salvatore, Sylvia, Pia, Natalia, Massimo, Nicoletta, Luca, Olivia, Marco, Lorenzo, Maria, Matteo, Domenico, Carlotta, Paola, Cesare, Carmine, Serafina, and me.”
