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Principal. There was a term I had a hard time understanding when I heard it the first time in this line of work. I was eleven and had only been in the U.S. for about eighteen months. I knew principals ran schools. So, I didn’t understand why Uncle Salvatore and my dad kept calling my mom a principal when they were assigning her a detail. I finally asked Papa one night, and he explained that’s what bodyguards sometimes call the person they protect. It makes sense here since Sinead’s firm is the client, not Sinead personally.
“Maybe we want to stay in her good graces in case we need to hire her one day.”
He’s goading me. Armando must have told him I’m into Sinead. Actually, there’s no way he didn’t. Pablo’s fishing. Let him. He can dredge the bottom of this lake and still come up with nothing.
“My spaghetti is getting cold.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re being facetious about that.”
“You know I carbo load.”
That earns me a snort.
“Hasta luego, Gabe.” See you later.
“Ciao.”
If I believe him, then one crime family down. Two to go. Plus all the other little shits who want to sit at the grown-ups’ table. No steps forward, two steps back. Who the fuck is doing this?
ChapterSixteen
Gabriele
I head back into the kitchen. No one but Sinead looks up at me. I shoot her a smile I pray is reassuring. I move to stand beside her and rest my hand at the small of her back, but only for a moment. When I slide my phone back into my pocket, she looks up at me, questions clear in her eyes. I sweep my gaze over the guys.
“Margherita’s sick. Pablo says it’s cancer.”
Lorenzo is standing across the breakfast bar from me. His eyes widen as he speaks.
“How bad is it?”
“I don’t know. Pablo didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. But they only found out a few days ago. I shot Uncle Salvatore a message as I walked in here. He’ll do what needs doing.”
Usually, that means scooping someone up and sending them to the garage. In this case, it’ll be call Margherita’s husband, Luis. He’s Enrique’s younger brother. He’ll offer any and all contacts he has to the best doctors in the world. He’ll send flowers, and he’ll make sure my aunts know, so they’ll send food the family can freeze. Those four women alone will make sure that entire family’s fed for a month with what they send.
Even though Carmine, Luca, and I seriously fucked up the women and children are untouchable rule, it still applies. We suspend all rivalries when it comes to the women. It’s why the Irish and the Colombians helped us when Maria was kidnapped. It’s why we and the Irish helped the bratva when one of their wives’ sisters was in trouble. It’s not like we used to carpool with Pablo and his younger brother, Juan. But she was a snack mom on our peewee sports teams. Yeah, not only did we go to high school together, but we played kids’ sports together before each of us turned twelve. That’s when we started carrying knives to protect ourselves from each other.
Fucking rites of passage. Our fucking families. It makes me watch Sinead as I consider whether I should truly bring her into this shit. I want to. I’ve tried pushing the thought from my head, but it’s pointless. I wouldn’t have touched her if I didn’t want this to be permanent. I’d still care about her safety, but I wouldn’t be driven to the point of tearing down and destroying whoever set me up and is fucking with her. I wouldn’t have called her mine if this wasn’t for keeps. I want us to be takingourkids to peewee and little league sports.
Carmine’s voice breaks into my thoughts when he comes to stand next to me. He keeps his voice low enough for Sinead not to hear him on my other side.
“Gabe, I got the weather report.”
It means he knows which way the wind’s blowing. He found out either who bugged Sinead’s apartment and hotel room, or the journalist and editor responsible for the article. All the men need to speak privately. I glance down at Sinead’s plate, and I see she’s eaten a healthy portion, but most of it’s still on my side of the plate. I put my hand back on the small of her back and keep it there this time.
“Do you feel better now that you’ve eaten?”
“Yeah, but all these carbs are making me sleepy.”
“Do you want to go up and rest? You can watch TV up there if you want. I need to talk to the guys.”
“I need to get some work done.”
I give her the Wi-Fi username and password, and she heads upstairs. I watch her until I can no longer see her on the second-floor landing. Once she’s out of earshot, I turn to Carmine. He gives us the rundown.
“I found out who wrote the article. You won’t believe it.”
“Don’t tell me an O’Rourke.”
