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“Gotta lot of updates, but a few I wanted to share before you get released. Ease any . . . anxieties.” I stare, waiting for him to keep speaking. “Spoke with the department before I came here. No further investigation into Lilah for Paulie’s death. Self-defense. He shot at her husband, hit her a few days prior. Enough witnesses to confirm there was no malice, no planning on her end. They want her to come down next week, give her formal statement, but she’s clear.”
“But . . .” Lilah looks around like she isn’t sure if she should be speaking.
“All good. No bugs, no ears,” Marco says. She nods, looking at me.
“I’m not licensed. That gun wasn’t registered to me.”
“Yes, it was,” Marco says. “And yes, you are.” There’s that smile on his lips, and Lilah looks confused.
“I never—”
“We did though,” I say, squeezing her hand. “We know . . . We know the right people to make it happen. Everything was aboveboard.”
“Or at the very least, looked that way,” Marco says. The look on her face is almost cute as the wheels turn, as she starts to understand what we’re saying.
“Other updates?” I ask, moving the conversation along.
“Met with the men. They have everything under control. They’re still on board with the changes in the family. If anything, the chaos cemented the need for you two to be in charge,” Marco says.
I can almost feel the relief pouring off Lilah.
She’s been worried about that, about how what went down would be seen by the family. If her taking down Paulie would give them a sour taste, if it would make them question her.
I knew all along it would be the opposite, if anything.
Watching Lilah stand up for the family, stand up and be brave as fuck would only make the men more loyal to her.
“So they . . . ,” she starts, looking around. “They aren’t mad?” Marco laughs.
“Jason’s mad you stood in front of a gun a mad man was pointing, but other than that, no. They love you, Lilah.”
“Interesting,” she says, deep in thought. It makes me laugh, the movement jerking at sore muscles and stitched flesh and making me cringe.
“Oh god! Should we get the nurse? Are you okay?” Lilah asks, jumping up. I swat at her hands.
“Jesus Christ, Lilah, no. Stop it. I’m gonna lose my shit if you don’t stop hovering.”
“I’m gonna be hovering until you fucking die, Dante Carluccio. Better get used to it,” she says, and I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance while Marco laughs.
But what I don’t tell her is I will endure her fussing and hovering every day of my goddamn life if it means I get to spend every moment with this woman.
FORTY-SIX
-Lilah-
A few hours later, as I sit in Dante’s hospital room, we have another visitor. One I’ve been dreading seeing, all thing considered. I squeeze my husband’s hand and he does the same, reassuring me as I smile at her.
“Knock, knock,” Teresa says, standing in the doorway. “Mind some company?”
“Of course not, come in,” Dante says, tipping his head into the room. She walks in, standing in front of a chair but not sitting.
Moments pass before I finally speak.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Teresa,” I say, staring at the woman. She’s dressed in a black dress similar to the one she wore at the celebration of life just yesterday, her hair a bit tousled but otherwise the perfect, put-together mob wife.
I should take notes.
Paulie Carluccio was announced dead on arrival when the medics entered at the home. With so many witnesses, keeping the death in the family was too risky, and the proper channels needed to be taken.
