8. Comes in Threes
eight
Comes in Threes
Grace blinked slowly, staring across the table at her boss. He was a man she knew, a man she’d known in some capacity for years and saw nearly every day. She’d never known him for cracking jokes, let alone in the middle of serious conversations, but that had to be what he’d just done. Except he wasn’t grinning, he wasn’t laughing, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking it back. She glanced to the side, hoping for a cue from Romeo, and found him watching her.
Her breath caught in her throat. Holy crap. She dragged her gaze back to Dante. “I’m sorry,” she said, speaking carefully. “Did you say mafia ? As in criminal underground or something?”
Dante nodded calmly. “I did.”
Her head spun and Grace looked away as she attempted to process that new and incredibly outrageous information. The mafia… She had been effectively working for some apparently giant mafia group for nearly a decade. Am I an idiot? Am I blind? How had she never suspected anything? And what was she supposed to do with this information?
In the prevailing silence, everyone heard Grace’s phone start buzzing violently in her lap. Probably both men saw her jump before she snatched the device up, fully prepared to dismiss what was surely yet another work call. She hadn’t even gone through all the notifications that had come in while she’d slept.
But it wasn’t a work call, and somehow—unsurprisingly—her sister’s name on the screen only fueled her frustration. “Here’s a thought,” Grace said as she practically smacked her still-buzzing phone onto the table, “maybe one of you big, scary mafia men could convince my self-absorbed sister to respect someone else’s working hours.” She wasn’t at work, granted, but any other Tuesday she would have been and Cait most certainly didn’t know about even a portion of her series of atypical events. Cait could never know.
The words were barely out of Grace’s mouth before Romeo slipped the phone from her fingers and accepted the call. She gaped at him, horrified and thrilled all the same time. She ought to have been furious, or at least humiliated, but she couldn’t work herself into either.
“Caitlin, right? This is Romeo De Salvo.” He paused and the tone of her sister’s voice carried through, a little sharp but satisfyingly delayed. Romeo shifted the phone to his opposite ear and settled his free hand on Grace’s thigh, beneath the bunched- up hem of her shirt. Even through the thicker material of the pants, she could feel the heat of his touch. “Yes, that De Salvo. I’m sure you’re aware, but Grace is a busy woman. You can’t be calling her during work hours unless there’s an emergency.”
Grace bit her lip. It was the second day in a row that her sister had called, which in itself was unusual. If she’d remembered that right away, she might have answered. Cait had sworn there wasn’t an emergency, but what if she was playing some stupid word game?
The professional-friendly tone of his voice slipped into something harder when he spoke again seconds later. “You should listen more carefully when your sister talks.” His fingers pressed a little more firmly into the curve of her thigh. “Or is the truth just that you can’t handle the fact that your younger sister has a better, higher-paying job, and you think if you continuously talk her down you’ll somehow make her less?”
Her jaw dropped at what he suggested. There was no way her always superior, always perfect older sister felt the way he described.
Cait’s voice went up so many octaves Grace was able to pick out some of the words. Not that she needed the confirmation of her sister’s displeasure.
Romeo talked right over her. “If we’ve got that cleared up, I am also busy. I’m going to have to charge you for my time if you insist on keeping me on the phone. Plus business lost, of course, if you make me miss my next—” He pulled the phone from his ear, grinning wickedly. “She hung up.” He set the phone down on the table, technically within her reach, and turned to catch her gaze. All without lifting his hand from her thigh. “Your sister called. Said she just wanted to catch up.”
Grace huffed out an aggravated breath, unintentionally shifting closer to him. “I’m sorry about her. Thank you.” It was awkward, but she also felt grateful in an arguably juvenile way. The hand now mostly between her legs was definitely cheating.
The amusement fled from Romeo’s expression. “Is there a reason your sister seemed to think you work reception?”
She swore she felt a vein throb at her temple. “Did she actually say that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Personal inquiries will have to wait, brother,” Dante said.
Grace returned her attention to him in time to see him dipping his head in the direction of the hall. She frowned, confused and embarrassed with how easily she’d forgotten the bombshell these men had dropped on her before her sister’s phone call. That wasn’t the sort of thing a person should just pitch from their mind.
Romeo pulled his hand out from between her legs and stretched his arm out over the back of her chair, as if her sitting directly beside him at a table with so much available seating wasn’t statement enough. But his attention was outward, she realized, and then another man walked into the room. One she did not know.
He looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties and probably close to her own height of five-nine, with a sturdy but not overtly muscular build. He had short brown hair and deep brown eyes, the latter of which he quickly averted after taking only a single step into the room. “Apologies for the interruption, sirs.”
“What the fuck, Enrico?” Romeo asked sharply.
The newcomer, Enrico apparently, didn’t flinch or lift his gaze from the floor. “I thought you should be made aware of situation that just occurred outside, sir.” He pulled a tablet from behind his back. “A woman we haven’t been able to identify drove up to the gate and…” He cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable. “She egged the security console, sir.”
If just one thing that morning could stop shocking the crap out of her, Grace might start to feel like she had a grasp on things. But someone just randomly showing up in broad daylight and egging Romeo’s front gate—Romeo who was apparently a big-bad mafia guy—just seemed entirely asinine.
She was only mildly soothed by the briefly shocked silence that overcame the brothers, too.
Romeo dragged in a breath. “Egged? As in some fucking moron just randomly decided to vandalize my home?”
Dante held out his hand. “Tablet.”
Enrico strode forward and set the table into Dante’s palm, then moved back to his previous position at the precipice of the room.
Romeo promptly shifted his attention to his brother.
A question popped into Grace’s mind and out of her too-shocked-to-function-properly mouth. “Could it just be a bitter ex-girlfriend?” He obviously had a history. She wasn’t stupid. And she had to imagine he hadn’t had clean, mutual breaks with every single person he’d been with in the past. That was the extent to which she could think about it before something in her chest twisted painfully.
Romeo grunted. “No.” His arm moved to her shoulders. “Been years since I had anything serious enough for that word.”
Flustered and absolutely not sure what that meant for her and them, Grace furrowed her brow. “Jilted lover, then. You know what I’m trying to say.”
Romeo opened his mouth with the clear intent to argue further, but his brother was faster.
“Has this been sent to Mikey?” Dante asked.
“Every second.”
Dante held the tablet toward Romeo. “Take a look. Does she seem familiar to you?”
Romeo held the tablet at an angle so he and Grace could both see it, and there was no way that wasn’t intentional. She shouldn’t have been grateful. She inched a little closer anyway.
It wasn’t a video, as Grace had assumed, but rather a still shot from the surveillance footage. A shiny, newer-model Honda was pulled up close to the console and a female with long, dark hair was leaning out. The hair reflected notably violet in the camera’s lens and Grace couldn’t help but think it was a wig, though she couldn’t technically see the woman well enough to be sure. More interesting than the hair, however, was the carton she had braced in her extended hand. It was a carton of a dozen eggs, as if she’d come straight from the store. Her hand was poised in such a way that Grace was sure the next image would be of the woman smashing those eggs all over the pedestal-like console.
Romeo swiped, and Grace was proven right. The woman’s hand was in the downward position and several eggs had fallen forward and already splattered against the console. In the next heartbeat the entire carton would be pressed wholly and insultingly against the technological surface. He swiped again, and this time the viewpoint was different. It was from the camera inside the console, before the eggs had struck.
The new angle provided a better look at her face—or it would have, but she was wearing large, dark glasses and a medical mask. The most the camera could do was confirm that the violetish hair was indeed a wig, based on the peek of almost golden bangs stubbornly poking over her forehead. The final picture was blurry and entirely useless, verifying only how thoroughly drenched in egg the console had become.
“Sonofabitch,” Romeo grunted as he shoved the tablet across the table.
Enrico took a lunging step forward to catch the device before it could crash to the hard floor below.
“Did you recognize her?” Dante asked.
“Under that damn wig and stupid ass shit on her face? Of-fucking-course not.” Romeo drew a breath. “Enrico, tell me someone’s already cleaning that up? I don’t want Lucy seeing that shit.”
“As we speak, sir. Mo’s checking in with the rest of perimeter as well.”
Grace opened her mouth, despite knowing she probably shouldn’t. “Did … anyone get the license plate?”
Enrico’s gaze flicked her way for half a second before once again dropping away.
“It looks like a rental,” Dante said.
“Right,” Grace said, nodding, “but someone had to pay for it. Even if they paid cash, there would have been paperwork, and possibly more cameras.”
Romeo blew out a breath and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “So, did you get the damn plate?”
Enrico nodded slowly. “It should be visible on the video footage, sir.”
Dante picked up his phone. “We’ll have Mikey make sure his team looks into that.”
“Anything else?” Romeo asked, projecting the question to Enrico.
“No, sir.”
“Then you’re dismissed.”
Enrico twisted in place and disappeared back the way he’d come.
Romeo leaned close, until his lips were above her ear, and whispered, “Was that jealousy I heard earlier, angel?”
Heat flashed through her, burning her cheeks and coiling down inside her body. Grace pursed her lips. She didn’t want to answer him, because she didn’t want to admit the answer to herself.
Another presence filled the hallway opening, this one larger and more naturally intimidating. “You know you have a problem outside?” Cristiano De Salvo’s deep voice startled Grace and wrenched her attention forward again.
Cristiano stood nearly exactly where Enrico had, his young wife Felicity tucked under his muscular arm. He had a duffel bag and a full-sized clothing bag strapped over his back. The clothes couldn’t possibly be for him, given the way the bag dangled.
Romeo straightened somewhat, keeping his arm around her, and grunted. “Yeah, I heard. Good of you to show up after the psycho with the eggs.”
Dante motioned to the chairs opposite them. “Mikey’s not coming, take a seat.”
Cristiano nodded and pulled the chair across from Grace out, ushering Felicity into it, before thumbing the straps. “Where do you want these?”
“They’ll go upstairs,” Romeo said. “For now, just set ‘em on the sofa. I’ll take everything up later.”
“Uh-huh.” Cristiano turned and strode away from the table.
Felicity smiled slowly and offered a small wave to Grace. “Are you feeling okay this morning?”
Grace hesitated. “I … I think so.” How was she supposed to answer that? Clearly Felicity had heard something about her night, which was embarrassing in and of itself. She and Felicity were friendly but not necessarily true friends, so it wasn’t like they socialized. And now she had to assume the kind woman knew about the whole mafia thing, just as she had to assume about Iris, and Grace had no idea what to do with any of it.
Dante spared her the trouble of articulating a more thorough response when he addressed Felicity and said, “Thank you for your help this morning, Felicity.”
“It was the least I could do,” Felicity said.
Cristiano reappeared, unburdened, and claimed the seat at her side. He tugged her chair up flush with his, curled his arm around her torso, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re too generous, baby,” he said to her, his words carrying effortlessly.
Grace stared at them, suddenly hyper aware of Romeo’s arm draped around her shoulders and the way she herself was sitting decidedly off-center in her chair. In her mind, she could easily picture if Iris were with them, as she’d been in the company of Iris and Dante several times and knew the way they tended to always find a way to be touching in whatever they did. It was cute, heartwarming even, and up to that moment she’d had not a small amount of jealousy.
All of a sudden, however, Grace felt incredibly overwhelmed.
“I assume you haven’t had time to pay a visit to our latest guest?” Dante said, directing his question to Cristiano.
Cristiano looked over at his cousin without releasing his wife. “Not yet. Figured after this I’ll take Felicity home, then pay him a visit. He ought to be strung out by then.”
“Um,” Felicity said, her voice almost inaudible. “What about…?”
“She knows,” Romeo said.
Grace felt her breath lodge in her chest. What was she overhearing? What was she possibly about to overhear? Did she want to? She watched Cristiano arch a brow, cut a momentary glance at her, then return his attention to Dante and open his mouth. And she knew it was too much. She shoved away from Romeo and away from the table, nearly knocking over her long-forgotten coffee cup in the process. “I need a moment. Excuse me.”
She made no move to reach for her phone. She didn’t want anyone to think she was running away to call the police or FBI or whoever it was a person might call to report this sort of thing. She simply went the long way around the table, out of reach of all of them, and told herself firmly that she was not already missing Romeo’s warmth.
Because that would have been crazy.
Almost as crazy as waking up to a middle-of-the-night phone call because she was being ambushed by gangsters looking to hurt her boss who was, oh by the way, apparently a mafia boss.
If she knew the property at all , she’d have gone somewhere else, somewhere less emotionally conflicting. But she didn’t know the property. She’d basically only walked one path and she was well aware that her little freak-out was not the time to wander aimlessly, so she went to the only space she knew for certain how to get to. She took herself all the way back upstairs—mostly in the hopes of not overhearing the mafia conversation—and returned to Romeo’s bedroom. Which probably wasn’t smart, because it smelled like him. It felt like him.
Tears stung her eyes and Grace let her feet carry her to the bed, where she climbed on top and crawled to the center. She pressed her back to the headboard, grabbed a pillow, and buried her face in the cool cushion. She didn’t really know if she was going to cry or scream or hyperventilate, or all of the above even.
What the hell did one do when their world turned upside down?
“Give her a few minutes,” Dante said with a pointed glance at Romeo after Grace disappeared from the dining room.
“I still don’t understand how she didn’t already know,” Felicity said, almost as if she were thinking aloud.
“You’ve had very different lives up to now,” Dante replied calmly.
Romeo blew out an agitated breath, eyeing Grace’s abandoned phone. He recognized that more than likely Grace was feeling overwhelmed. Still, some part of her mind was obviously functioning, because there was no way that workaholic just forgot her cell phone when she left a room. She’d left it there—in plain sight—specifically so they would know she wasn’t calling to report them in some way. And whether it was self-preservation or an early sign of her acceptance, he chose to take it as a positive.
He just would much have preferred to follow after her rather than talk about more shit.
“You were right about the apartment,” Cristiano said before Romeo could ask the question. “It was pretty thrashed. Between what her attackers destroyed and what got hit in the gunfire when our guys took them out, she’s got a lot she’ll be looking at replacing.”
Romeo cursed under his breath. He was less looking forward to explaining that than he had been the truth of what he did.
“I got her a good selection of clothes, though,” Felicity offered. “Even some stuff for work since she seems to be such a workhorse. She should have enough now to at least last a couple of weeks, depending on how she manages her laundry.”
Romeo unlocked his jaw and looked across the table at his newest in-law. “Thank you, Felicity. I appreciate you doing that.” Asking someone to take stock of the front of the apartment was one thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to let another man dig through Grace’s wardrobe. He was grateful his brother had suggested this alternative, and more grateful Cris hadn’t strangled him for asking.
“There is one other thing,” Cristiano said. “We may still have a problem. Whoever did the cleanup didn’t do their best work.”
“Elaborate,” Dante said, voice darkening.
Cristiano pulled out his phone, opened to his desired screen, and slid it toward the center of the table. “Bullet holes,” he replied. “I only found one in the apartment, lodged in the wood of the kitchen cabinet. The bulk of the issue is the lobby.”
Romeo grabbed the phone and stood, moving to stand behind Dante and simply look over his brother’s shoulder. He imagined neither of them liked what they saw. It was the lobby, as Cris had indicated, and lacking any of the blood Romeo remembered from the night before. But a spattering of bullet holes dotted the wall and another, more noticeable, trail curved over the base of the front desk. He remembered seeing all of this same damage the previous night. And he remembered thinking the cleaning crew was going to have a bitch of a job. But they should have done better.
“Goddammit,” Dante growled. He shoved the phone back toward Cris.
Romeo took the cue to reclaim his seat. “Any blood?”
“Not that I found.”
Dante closed his fist on the table. “Do you know which crew it was?”
Romeo thought back to when he’d left that building. He had seen the cleaners show up to the scene, come to think of it. “Looked like Delta.”
Dante growled low in his throat and pushed to his feet, scooping up his phone as he moved. “Then I know my next stop. Cris, let me know what you learn. In particular anything pertaining to the name Filip Tracey.”
Cristiano nodded, moving himself and Felicity to their feet as well. The lovebirds practically moved in step with each other. It was sweet in that nauseating pit-of-your-stomach way.
Dante turned one more look his way. “You’ve got your wish, brother. Don’t fuck it up.”
Romeo grunted, biting back words he would probably regret, and watched from the table as his family took their leave. Finally. He loved his brothers, and he’d quickly warmed up to their wives, but this was not a day when he wanted a house full of guests.
His gaze flicked to the ceiling, not that he could see through it or that the room overhead aligned with where he suspected she’d gone, and something in his chest tightened. It had only been a few minutes. She surely needed more time to think things over and process her emotional response. To decide her emotional response.
Romeo grabbed up the dishes, stalked to the kitchen, and dumped everything in the sink for later. Then he snatched Grace’s phone off the table, muted it, and made his way into the sitting room. He was a little more careful with the bags Cris had brought, particularly the one apparently containing her work suits, and finally he made his way up the stairs. He had his phone, and though he’d prefer not to be disturbed for the rest of the day, he knew damn well he needed to leave it on.
Fucking egged, really? Was it possible the Ink Blots had hired some random woman just to distract him? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. No one had been hurt. Mikey’s team would scrutinize every detail of relevant footage. They would do the same with all the footage they’d gathered from Grace’s apartment, and if or when anything critical was found, someone would call him.
Until then, he had a woman who needed his undivided attention.