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“That’s fine if it’s okay with the others.”
Uncle Salvatore rests his hand on her upper back, and I know it feels paternal to her. Her spine isn’t ramrod straight anymore.
“You’re welcome whenever you’re ready.”
We exchange a quick peck, and I watch her walk out. Mama, Maria, and Auntie Carlotta follow her, my aunt closing the door behind them. The moment it clicks, I want to know.
“Who the hell did this? Who shot at Michelle, and who the fuck tried to kill her in the car?”
Carmine shakes his head, and he knows I don’t want to hear what he has to say.
“We don’t know. No one has claimed responsibility. By the time we could get anyone to the accident scene, whoever ordered this or orchestrated this already had people clear it out. You know Luca got the alert the moment the first car hit you. We got it when you triggered your belt.”
I forgot I even did that. It’s been so drilled into me I didn’t even notice it. I must have hit the small button on the inside of my belt buckle. We all wear trackers. The men have them in their belts, and the women have them in jewelry. I must have done it as I drew my gun.
“Who got there first?”
“David.”
He’s a solid guy, and I know he’s loyal.
“What did he have to say?”
“The police and ambulances were already there, but the cars were gone. He listened to the police scanner on his way. Their response time was fast, but the only thing there was the glass from your car and theirs. These people were prepared. They had to have tow trucks waiting, expecting the guys would either total them or be dead.”
None of that surprises me, and I say as much.
“These are pros. These weren’t some two-bit criminals someone hired, not caring if they lived or died. This is too well planned to be anything less than one particular man.”
We all know who I’m talking about. Robert Simms. He’s a fucking ghost. The man comes and goes as he pleases. None of the syndicate heads know that much about him, but we’ve all used him. He has no alliances except to his money. Until recently, everyone in our business believed he hid his money under a fucking mattress. It was only when he targeted Pasha that we discovered the truth.
Pasha’s wife is a forensic accountant, just like him and just like me. At least we all have expertise in the area, even if it’s not our day-to-day shit. Evidence pointed to us, but it didn’t take her long to realize someone planted it. She also discovered Simms’s real identity, which links him back to the Cold War and the former USSR.
I grit my teeth and force myself to calm the fuck down before I keep going. We suspected it might have been him, but our initial leads didn’t pan out.
“He went after Chellie because she’s friends with all the Kutsenkos. Simms can’t touch any of them after he failed with Pasha. But he’s still pissed Pasha got involved with his son and made him run off. This is personal. He wants to hurt that family, but he also wants me to blame them. He wants to stir the shit, so we retaliate against the bratva for making Chellie a target in the first place.”
Papa’s grim expression matches Uncle Salvatore’s. They could practically be twins right now. I look at everyone else, and Papa’s just about to speak when someone knocks at the door.
“Come in.”
I call out, expecting it to be Chellie. It is, but Uncle Cesare and Auntie Paola are behind her. If ever there was a couple made of oil and water, it’s Carmine’s parents. Now that they’re separated, they’re actually practically besties. They live their own lives romantically and otherwise, and they don’t ask each other questions. But when it comes to our family, especially Carmine, they’re entirely unified.
Auntie Paola pushes past Uncle Cesare to walk in alongside Chellie. She doesn’t push my girlfriend — fiancée — out of the way, but if Chellie were already family, Auntie Paola would.
“Are you all right,cucciolo?”
Little cub. She’s been calling all her nephews that, andcucciolafor her nieces since we were born. She was in a serious accident when she was twenty-five, and we all feared Carmine would lose his mom. So, she’s pretty sensitive to anything like this.
“Sto bene, zietta.” I’m fine, Auntie.
“You would have thought I was the doctor in the family if you’d seen how I looked over Michelle. I’ll spare you that since you’re a man.”
The way she says that last word. It’s a running joke from when I was thirteen and tried to assert that I could make my own decisions about eating eggplant — which I loathe — and told her I was a man. I’d been carrying a knife with me for a year after all.
She gives me a kiss on my temple and hurries out of the room. Chellie looks completely lost now that it’s a room filled with men who look like linebackers in custom Italian suits. I kick Marco’s hip since he’d practically sat on my feet when he dumped his ass at the end of the bed. He huffs but smiles at Chellie. I wouldn’t exactly call him gracious about giving up his seat, but he hurries out of the way.
The moment she’s within reach, I can’t keep myself from touching her. I’ve been focused on the conversation, but I haven’t stopped thinking about her. I realize how close to my ears my shoulders have been when I wrap my arm around her shoulder and relax. I nudge her closer, and when she inches nearer, I press her head to my shoulder. She takes a moment to relax, likely embarrassed, but she sinks into my embrace.
