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A war with Altiere will play into what Fontana wants. It will force me into doing what he asked—taking out a don that Fontana wants eliminated. And it ends one of two ways—either with Fontana installing someone in his pocket in my backyard, or with me taking over all of Los Angeles.
Either of those put me closer to Sicily, not further away. And if Fontana knows the part I’ve played in this, he’ll hold cards that will make it hard for me to refuse him.
It will bemyfault that war breaks out.
I need to clean this up as quickly as possible. But first, I have to know if Emma is still here.
Quickly, I stride out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Thankfully, the shop’s alarm wasn’t set, so there’s no need to worry that cops will be here anytime soon. My only concern, besides Emma, is the other artist showing up—her friend.
One thing at a time.
When I walk out to the back of the shop, Emma’s car is no longer in the parking lot. I let out a sharp sigh of relief. At least she didn’t hear what happened. She’ll know, eventually, but it’s one thing to know, and another to see or hear something like that.. I’m almost sure that she’ll go straight home—the condo is her safe space, the place where she would feel most comfortable after something like that happening.
I want to follow her. But I have to deal with this first.
I go out to the Mustang, fishing in the glove compartment for a burner. I don’t need them all that often these days, but old habits die hard, and right now, I’m glad for that.
Quickly, I dial the number of our cleaner. They’ll be here as quickly as traffic will allow, and I don’t have to worry about anything being left behind to trace to me. So long as I can keep things quiet, there’s no need to worry about the fallout from Altiere.
And then another car pulls up into the parking lot just as I’m finishing the call—a beat-up Impreza—and the other artist steps out. He catches sight of me and grins affably—until his eyes flick to my hands, and he sees the blood there.
He freezes, turning paper white as he starts to back up to his car.
Shit.
He’s now a potential witness to what’s happened here. It’s not a good outcome. But I also can’t take out Emma’s friend. Truthfully, I don’twantto hurt him. None of this is his fault.
I put my hands up, keeping my expression calm.
“Brendan, right?”
He swallows hard, clearly trying to make up his mind as to whether telling me his name or not is a smart idea.
“I already know it is. I know Emma. Do you know who I am?”
Brendan looks like he doesn’t know whether he should run, or stay frozen in place. “Yes,” he croaks. “You’re that guy Emma was working with. The one who stopped by that day. She was pissed at you.”
I nod. “That’s right. And I’m also someone that you don’t want to cross. Now your boss, Rico—he crossed me. Frankly, he pissed me off. I’ve handled that problem, and I’ve got people on the way to finish handling it. Normally, I’d take care of a loose end like this, since you’re not going to be able to go into that shop without seeing exactly how I handled it. But since Emma cares about you, I’m inclined to let you leave, as long as you understand that you were never here. Understood? You have no idea what happened. You’re going to get in your car, and you’re going to leave.”
Brendan nods, his eyes wide and frightened. He swallows hard, fumbling for the handle of his car door, and I can see him starting to shake. “Okay.” His voice cracks as he yanks the door open. “I—okay. Sure thing. I’m—I’ll just—go.”
He barely waits for the engine to start before he throws the car into gear, the tires spinning in the gravel in his haste to escape.
I don’t wait for the cleaner to arrive. If they have problems, they’ll call me. I head back to my car, throwing it in gear, and heading straight to Emma’s. But once again, when I drive around the block, her car is nowhere to be seen.
Panic fills me. I have to know that she’s safe. I sit there, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, until I reach for my phone and call her again.
No answer.
The tension in the car is thick enough to cut with a knife. I wait and watch, long past caring how many of her boundaries I’ve slammed through, until I finally see the Chevelle pull up a few spots down from where I’m parked.
I don’t stop to think how angry she’ll be over everything that’s just happened. Her safety is the only thing on my mind, and I spring out of the car, striding toward where she’s just gotten out of hers.
“Emma,” I call out her name, and I see her freeze.
She turns to face me, and I can see the tension written across her features.
“What the fuck was that, back there?” Her voice rises, fear still apparent in every word. “Have you been following me all day? That was you banging on my door, wasn’t it? And then—I thought I recognized that car at the shop. I told myself that was ridiculous, that there was no way you’d follow me like that. That you’d learned your fucking lesson after the first time. But you really are the type of guy that I thought at first, aren’t you? Can’t take no for an answer. Can’t stay away when you think something belongs to you.”
