Chapter 6 #2
The vein in her neck bulged. “Maybe I act like that because I’m treated that way.”
I was pissed that she’d ditched me, yet I could understand why she was so upset.
The woman had done everything she could to break free of her father, and somehow his shit still blew back on her.
I spoke with a calm voice. “I get it. I really do. But my priority is keeping you safe, even if doing so also happens to make you miserable.”
“Tell me what’s going on. Why are we on lockdown?”
Vince had never instructed me to keep her in the dark, and I sort of thought she had a right to know anyway. “I don’t know that many details. Just that we have some extra eyes watching the house, and a guy named Sonny is a threat.”
Juliette’s face fell. “Sonny Altieri?”
I nodded. “You know him?”
All the anger was suddenly gone, and it seemed like she was on the verge of tears. She looked away. “I’m going to my room.”
***
I waited a few hours before knocking on her bedroom door. “Juliette? You okay?”
Her voice was small. “I’m fine.”
I pressed my ear to her door. “Can I come in?”
A few beats passed. “Yeah.”
She was lying in bed, curled in the fetal position, and didn’t sit up when I entered. “What happened earlier? I said a name, and you lost all your fight.”
“There’s nothing left to fight for.”
I pointed to the foot of the bed. “Can I sit down?”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
When I did, Juliette sat up a little, leaning her back against the headboard and wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m used to lockdowns and threats.”
“Then what is it?”
“The name you mentioned. I haven’t heard it in a long time.”
I hadn’t needed Frankie to tell me to look up Sonny Altieri.
I already knew he was a soldier for a rival family, one who seemed to be coated with Teflon.
He’d been indicted for murder three times in the last fifteen years—and got off on every charge.
Though I wasn’t sure why the mention of his name would upset Juliette, unless she was scared.
“Did he do something to you?”
She nodded. “Not directly, but to someone I loved.”
I waited for her to say more, but she just kept staring at her knees.
“One of the men he was indicted for killing?”
She shook her head. “He was never charged for killing Nick. I’m sure there’s a laundry list of other horrible things he’s gotten away with.”
“Was Nick a relative of yours?”
“He was my boyfriend. My high school sweetheart. He was shot in front of my father’s pizzeria.”
Oh shit. I remembered the story now. God knows I’d read everything I could get my hands on when I’d started working for Vince Ginocassi.
Nick Spagnoli, the eighteen-year-old son of Big Nicky, one of her father’s underbosses, was killed in broad daylight walking out of Gino’s Pizza with his dad.
It was assumed he’d been caught in mob-related crossfire, and as far as I knew, no one had ever been arrested for the murder.
“I’m sorry, Juliette.”
She sniffled back tears. “I haven’t thought about Nick in a long time, and hearing you say Sonny’s name made me feel guilty for that.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, but I wanted to make her feel better. “Did Nick love you?”
Juliette nodded.
“Then he wouldn’t want you to carry grief with you every day. He’d want you to find peace and move on.”
“Thanks.” She wiped a tear and tried to force a smile, but it looked more like a wilted flower. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes alone?”
“Of course.”
After I closed her door, I stood there a moment, listening. It sounded like the floodgates had opened. Part of me wanted to go back in and hold her, but I decided to respect her privacy.
Out in the living room, I sat for a while.
Juliette hadn’t eaten any dinner yet, so I thought about making something in case she got hungry.
Then a better idea hit me. Frankie had texted me the numbers of the two guys watching the house.
I’d seen their car outside earlier, so I went to the front door to check that it was still there before calling.
“Hey. It’s Wes.”
“Everything good?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. But I need a few things from the store, and I have to stay here. Can you make a run for me?”
“I don’t know. We’re supposed to be watching the house.”
“Vince knows I’m sending you,” I lied.
“All right then. What do you need?”
“I’ll text you a list.”
Forty-five minutes later, there was a light knock on the door. I’d watched the Mustang come back down the block, but I checked the peephole before answering anyway.
A guy I recognized as Eddie Guiliano shook his head. “What the hell do you need all this shit for?”
I took the bags. “Don’t worry about it.”
The guy shrugged. “Whatever. You know where to find me.”
Juliette still hadn’t come out of her room, so I had time to set up alone. When I was done, I knocked on her door again. “Juliette?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you come out for a minute?”
“Do I have to?”
I paused. “No. But I’d appreciate it if you did.”
She padded from her room wearing ratty sweatpants, her eyes pink and puffy from crying. When she saw the living room, her little nose scrunched up. “What’s all this?”
“You couldn’t go out to karaoke and cocktails tonight, so I brought karaoke and cocktails to you.”
I’d hung two strings of white lights in the living room, set up a margarita maker and glasses, and connected the new karaoke machine to the TV, which now read Juliette’s Karaoke Party.
“Where did all this stuff come from? I don’t have a karaoke machine or a margarita maker.”
I winked. “I have my ways.”
“You did all this for me?” Her face softened. “That is so sweet.”
There should have been warning bells going off in my head for making nice with this woman, considering who her father was. But instead, her smile soothed me.
“Take a seat and scroll through the playlist. I’ll make you a drink.”
One drink led to two, and two led to three, and before long Juliette was hiccupping between giggles. I’d just finished singing “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks.
“You are soooo bad.” Hiccup.
I chuckled. “Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime.”
“Even if I could carry a tune, I’d still sound like shit compared to you. You sing like that American Idol woman—Kelly something. Where’d you learn to belt like that?”
“My mom.” Hiccup. She giggled again and covered her mouth. “She was a lounge singer. That’s how she met my dad.”
“A slinger, huh?” I smiled. “Not a singer?”
My comment sent her into another fit of giggles. The sound made my chest feel warm. “How are you not slurring your words?” she asked. “You drank as many margs as I did.”
“Mine were virgin. I can’t drink and do my job.”
“Oh. Virgin.” She picked up her glass and held it out with a goofy smile. “That means more tequila for me!”
“I don’t know about that. I think you might’ve reached your limit.”
She pouted. “Pleeaassssse.”
I shook my head, unable to contain my own smile. “One more, lightweight.”
Juliette flopped back on the couch. “I’ll just wait right here.”
“You do that…”
In the kitchen, I dumped the old mix into the sink and added fresh ice for a new batch. This time, I only added enough tequila to make it smell like alcohol before blending.
When I came back with a practically virgin margarita, I found Juliette fast asleep.
I grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covered her up. For a moment, I stood watching her. A tiny smile threatened at the corner of her lips, making me smile too.
I thought I’d understood the dangers of this job. But standing here, looking down at Juliette Ginocassi’s beautiful face, I realized she was the real threat.
And God help me, I wanted her anyway.