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I cross the room to Cassio and offer him my hand. I don’t plan on losing today, but I’d be an idiot to operate with blind confidence. Cassio stands up straight as he shakes my hand. “If anything happens—”
“It won’t,” Cassio says, cutting me off. “But if it does, Sophia will be safe with me for as long as she chooses.”
I nod and offer him a smile. “Thank you.” At that, I move to my sister. Neither of us utter a word, because we wouldn’t know where to begin. Instead, she throws her arms around me and nuzzles her head against my chest. I return her embrace, my throat raw with emotion.
Sophia is aware of our plan. Gio, I, and our men will infiltrate Vitale’s compound here in New Orleans. It’ll be a bloodbath, one, without Gagliano’s men, we may not all survive. If we do, Sophia will have her moment with Vitale once we’ve extracted him and brought him here to Laroux House. If she doesn’t hear from us, she and Cassio will take the jet to his home in Savannah. She’ll be safe there. And, whether he chooses to fight with us or not, Gagliano will be reunited with his daughter. However much I’d like to shield Ariana from the Mafia, if something happens to me and Gio, her father will be the only one left with the means and desire to keep her safe. Despite my inability to be in her life, I will never stop protecting her, even if it is from the shadows.
“I love you, brother,” Sophia says then.
“I love you too.” At that, I pull away from her and stalk toward the door as if walking fast will allow me to escape my emotions and not just the emotions of potentially seeing my sister for the last time or even the utter agony of saying goodbye to Ariana. As I reach for the handle and open the door of my childhood home to the chilly winter breeze carrying the scent of moss and evergreens, I am not only walking away from the two women who mean the most to me, I am going to avenge the two women who were taken from me.
As I step from the stoop to the gravel drive, making my way toward the black van waiting for me, my eyes drift to the oak trees just off to the side. It is among them that I find Cara. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. But as I take her in, I see it’s been worth it. The gray-blue skin of her ghost has warmed to her natural tone. Her face is free from tears, mascara smudges, and any signs of dishevelment. Similarly, her nightgown is no longer torn and stained, and she finally looks like the sister I remember. Her improved appearance lets me know that the truth truly has been revealed and the man responsible for her death, and my mother’s, will finally meet his end. I know she isn’t real. I know her ghost is nothing but a figment of my imagination, a visual representation of my own journey to make peace with her death. Still, seeing her reinvigorates me and reminds me of the purpose of this mission and of everything I’ve endured over the last year. The memories of her and my mother focus my mind and ease the ache of heartbreak. That is, until Gio finally takes note of Ariana’s absence.
“I thought Ariana stayed the night,” Gio says.
“She did,” I mumble. As I reach for the handle on the passenger side of the van, I hesitate. I don’t care to have this conversation in front of the men waiting for us inside. I turn to Gio to find his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “I decided it best she doesn’t accompany us today.”
“And she accepted that?”
I purse my lips as memories of the morning threaten to take hold of me. “Not exactly.” Gio nods and lets out a sigh. Perhaps he pities me, same as my sister. Only, I imagine his pity isn’t so much out of concern for my heart rather what Ariana will do to me once she wakes. As the thought threatens to unravel my focus, I push it from my mind and open the door to the van. Whether I live long enough for Ariana to hate me or die before she gets the chance to, one way or another, this ends today—all of it. If we don’t get on with it, the anticipation may kill me first.
31
As we arriveat Gagliano’s townhouse in the French Quarter, the skies above fill with stormy clouds as thunder rumbles. It’s a three-story brick building with black doors and shutters and a wrought iron terrace adorned with greenery that wraps around the second story. As the wind kicks up, the ferns hanging from the second-story awning begin to blow and the gas flames of the street-level lanterns are snuffed out. That’s not a good sign. Given my hesitancy to bring Gagliano into the fold, it’s enough to give me pause.
“You okay, Boss?” Gio asks, stopping a few feet away. I shake my head and shift my gaze to the quiet street. It’s not that I don’t trust Gagliano. I mean, sure, I don’t know him that well. Just a few months ago, I was questioning who between him and Vitale I trusted the least. But there is no doubt in my mind that when he learns his daughter is alive and that Vitale is the one who killed his love, Valentina, he will join our cause. I suppose it’s that certainty that makes me hesitate.
Once Ariana and her father are reunited, her life will change forever. She’ll be a Mafia princess. She will forever be connected to murderers, drug dealers—criminals. And between her father meeting with associates at his home and her attendance at Mafia-only parties and events, it won’t just be Gagliano she’ll be exposed to. The mere thought makes me clench my fists. I know what this world will do to her. Perhaps, even more so, I know what the men of this world will do to her, or, at least, try. And if they learn she works for the FBI, they’ll kill her and her father, suspecting them spies. Deep down, I know the last thing I should do is walk through that gate. But I also don’t have a choice if I hope to survive today’s events nor do I have it in my heart to keep Ariana from her father, even if the thought of them being in each other’s lives makes my skin crawl.
“Boss?”
“I’m ready,” I say. It’s a lie. Nevertheless, I tap my hand on my back and side pockets, feeling for my weapons, and then continue through the wrought iron gate leading to Gagliano’s courtyard.
An armed guard stands at the end of the pass-through. Once he recognizes us, he immediately steps aside and communicates over his comms that we’ve arrived. I give him a good once-over, assessing his abilities to maintain the safety of the home. If Ariana will be spending even a minute here, I need to know she’s protected by the best. Perhaps I should just find a personal guard for her myself, though I doubt she’d accept the gesture. I make a mental note to find someone with stealth, someone who can watch her from afar without tipping her off. A woman, to be certain, or a eunuch.
“Mr. Amato,” Gagliano says. He appears, dressed in a tan suit, on the second-story wrap-around porch overlooking the stone courtyard. “What a lovely surprise.”Yeah, lovely.“Please, have a seat. I’ll have my cook send out some refreshments and be right down.”
“That won’t be necessary. Please, join us now.” Gagliano’s smile leaves him as he registers my stern tone. He nods, tugs on the lapels of his suit, and follows my command. It occurs to me I should treat him with a bit more respect considering my feelings for his daughter and the fact that I’m here to ask for his help. However, I’m not sure I have the capacity to tidy up my manners on this day of all days.
Gagliano makes his way down the white-painted steps, and the three of us sit at the table situated between the fountain that anchors the space and the raised bed of white roses against the brick wall of the compound. As their sweet scent drifts in the chilly breeze, I wonder if Ariana will like them. She did say how much she loved the gardens at Laroux House, specifically the roses.
“Boss. Boss?Alister?”
“Hmm?” I turn to find Gio and Gagliano staring at me. “Right, um.” I clear my throat and sit up straight. “Might we have a bit of privacy?”
“Certainly.” Gagliano motions for his men to disperse. As they do, I take note of their placements, as does Gio. It’s why he’s always one step ahead of his opponent, though my interest in them is for a different reason entirely. There are four men who guard the main entrance and courtyard. Normally, I’d say it’s a bit overkill considering the modest size of the place. But, given the circumstances, I’m pleased with the number as I am with the additional three who guard the second-story bedrooms and offices.
With all his men out of earshot, Gagliano shifts in his chair. “What is this about, sir?” he asks. As he speaks, I detect a bit of unease. Perhaps he’s heard of my confrontation with Parisi. While no one saw me lay a finger on him, there were plenty of witnesses that know I was the last person to see him before his lengthy unexplained absence. Gio returned him to his wife last night. Still, perhaps Gagliano fears he will be next. Though I realize that those same witnesses could’ve reported back to Vitale. Perhaps our so-called element of surprise isn’t as surprising as we thought.Shit.
“Right, um, I wish I could handle this more delicately, but, unfortunately, we don’t have much time.” Gagliano looks between us. His lips droop with worry. The simple movement draws attention to the wrinkles surrounding his mouth, which remind me of his age. He isn’t old by any means. He’s in his forties. And yet, the silver streaks through his black hair and the loose skin around his brown eyes say otherwise. He lost the love of his life before he was even twenty. Not to mention his child. Even though Valentina and Ariana survived past what Gagliano believed was their end, Ariana has still lived an entire life, twenty-eight years, without a family, and he without his daughter. Even given my intimate acquaintance with loss, that kind of pain is unimaginable.
I lower my eyes from his gaze and do my best to offer him the respect and patience he deserves as I reveal all that we’ve uncovered about Valentina’s family, her death, Vitale’s vendetta, and the fact that his daughter is alive.
As Gagliano absorbs all that I have to say, his demeanor shifts from uptight and cautious to restless and surprised. He stands from his chair and paces the length of the courtyard more times than I can count. He’s quiet yet deep in thought until finally, he stops and drops to his knees in tears. He buries his face in his hands. Gio and I avert our eyes, giving him a moment. As his cries echo through the open-air space, my body stiffens. My thoughts of Ariana are unrelenting despite my best efforts to keep them at bay. His wails of both heartbreak and happiness serve as too stark a reminder of Ariana’s cries. It’s a sound I’m not sure I’ll ever get out of my head.
“My daughter’s alive,” Gagliano whispers, wiping his face with his handkerchief. “My daughter.” He stands and, slowly, makes his way back to us. “I…I didn’t even know it was a girl. Valentina, she—” His lip quivers, forcing him to take a moment to collect himself. “All this time, I thought Valentina died in that fire and I have lived with that guilt for almost thirty years.”
“Guilt? Why would you feel guilty? It was my father who ordered the hit against Carlo. If it had been Valentina in that house, her death would’ve been my father’s fault, not yours. Even still, Veronica’s is.”
