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Vito sweats heavily. Two spots of red have blossomed on his white shirt. Gunshot wounds. He’s still conscious, but barely.
Lita is in full panic mode, grabbing her little brother by the shoulders and searching for the reason he’s bleeding. “Oh my god. Where are you hurt?”
The dazed boy doesn’t say a word as I join Lita in trying to locate the source of his wound. There might be more than one. Blood stains can be deceptive. I look at his back and see nothing, no obvious sign of trauma.
Vito groans inside the car. He coughs. “Nah, that ain’t the boy’s blood.”
Robert chokes out a cry, followed by a low moan. He slumps against his big sister and Lita wraps her arms around him.
Gage is the one to ask the crucial question. “Then whose blood is it?”
“His mother’s.” Vito’s jaw hardens. “She’s dead.”
Chapter34
Haven
Ican’t shake the feeling of dishonesty, even though I told Conner exactly where I was going. I even told him I was going to meet with Andrei. Conner trusts Andrei, especially after Gage confirmed that Andrei told my cousins to piss off after they tried to collect him for their team.
He’s not sure what to think of Fiona. I’m not either. My initial instinct was to defend her. She’d always been tight lipped about her past and I always figured she must have her reasons. But I keep waiting for her to come clean about being summoned to Essex Street and she hasn’t.
There is one tiny detail I didn’t share with Conner about my current errand. Andrei’s request to meet at the club for a chat is out of character. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been anything but a stoic straight shooter. If he planned to do me any harm, this sure as shit isn’t the way he’d go about it. But I doubt he’d speak his mind in front of Conner. When I get home I’ll tell Conner everything that was said. But right now I take comfort in the fact that Conner is at home with Lita as I rocket toward the east side with a gun in my lap.
Soon enough I’ll have no reason to return to this side of the city. I’m leaving the family business.
My future will not be blood and depravity. My future is with Conner.
It’s thoughts of Conner that keep my mind clear as I drive into the murky east side. The more time I spend away from here, the uglier it looks when I return.
This is Saturday morning and aside from clusters of children playing games too close to the street, there isn’t much going on. The parking lot of the Back Door is deserted except for a single car. Andrei’s ancient Malibu is parked crookedly beside the dumpster.
Though the shadows interfere with a clear view, there’s definitely someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Andrei’s profile is distinctive. I’d know his hulking shape anywhere. He might have dozed off while waiting for my arrival. His head is tipped back in the driver’s seat and he doesn’t stir when I approach.
My steps slow down and my heart speeds up. I’m glad to have the gun in my hand. Because now that I’m right next to the car’s window I see the reality of the situation.
There’s a hole in Andrei’s right temple. I freeze, listening for the slightest sound that would reveal the presence of someone else. Someone alive. Someone who kills.
“Marino is breathing on me, girls.”
My palm sweats around the handle of the gun. There’s no noise other than the rustle of traffic on the next street. The dumpster is spattered with dried blood and the blood is being attacked by flies. He was killed out here beside the dumpster and then moved inside his car.
Andrei’s mouth hangs open, like he’s shocked to be in this condition. Sudden grief tightens my throat. Andrei had always been a friend. Sure, he had his enemies. Who doesn’t? But I can come up with no explanation for why he would be sitting out here in his car with a hole in his head.
Taking a shrewd look around, I see nothing out of place. Mine is still the only other vehicle in sight. Across the street, a pair of elderly women leave my old apartment building and laugh over a private joke as they walk down the street.
But the door to the club is open. And it shouldn’t be.
Common sense whispers that if there was a killer around who wanted me dead then I would have already found that out. Blood pounds in my ears and my throat is dry as I step through a door I’ve walked through thousands of times before.
The lights are on. Fiona sits at a center table, halfway between the stage and the door. Her tight dress is covered with purple sequins and her red curls are piled on her head. With every light shining the club looks seedy. Ugly. A place that feeds off vice and corruption.
She drops something from her hand. The pair of dice I always keep in my desk clatters to the scarred wood. Both land on the number one.
“Snake eyes,” she says. “Fitting.”
My hand flexes around the gun. With my other hand I close the door behind me and flip the lock. Whatever is about to happen, it’s only between me and her.
Fiona pushes back from the table and appraises me with mild interest. “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today. But I’m glad you’re here. You should go pour yourself a drink. You can pour me one too.”
