33. Damiano
I finished giving Rob an update on the most recent intel we’ve been gathering. It isn’t much, which is fishy as fuck. People in this town like to talk, but no one seems to know a damn thing.
Rob, of course, shifted the conversation from that problem to ‘his other problem,’ meaning me. “I need you here, man. When you’re not out in the streets looking for information, I want you here. Not holed up all alone at your place.”
This again.
Salvo walks over, eating his afternoon butterscotch pudding cup. He places a second unopened one on the table as he sits.
Rob barely pays him any attention. He’s too focused on me. “You can’t keep people safe just by keeping away from them.”
“Of course I can. Paige is safe now. No reason to go after her if we’re not together.”
“Yeah? Try telling that to them,” Salvo chimes in, taking another spoonful of pudding.
Rob’s eyes dart to Salvo. “Shut the fuck up, Sal.”
Rob only calls him ‘Sal’ when he’s pissed at him. And now Rob’s glaring at him. What the fuck?
“What are you talking about?” I ask Salvo, who just shrugs and licks his spoon. I turn to Rob. “What is he talking about?”
Rob huffs out loud. “Nothing. Everything’s under control.”
“What’s ‘under control’?”
Rob sits back in his seat, folds his arms across his chest. He looks at me for a long minute before answering. “Paige’s security. It’s under control, like I said. Nothing for you to worry about.” He stares hard at Salvo. “Nothing for you to even know about.”
“The fuck are you talking about? Why does Paige need security? That’s obviously something for me to know about.”
“You’re not trying to get back with her, right? You’re staying locked up in your self-imposed solitude, not letting anyone get close. Not letting anyone be there for you. You’re good, she’s good, it’s all good.” Rob leans back and spreads his arms across the back of the booth.
“The fuck are you talking about? Salvo, what the fuck is he talking about?”
Salvo points at me with his spoon. “Right now, he’s talking about you shutting him and me out because you think we’re safer that way, which is complete bullshit. But a minute ago, he was talking about the Bagliateris going after Paige even though you’re not together.”
I stare at him like he’s got two heads. Then snap back to the matter at hand. “Who the fuck went after her?”
“Relax. I’ve got three guys on her at all times. They’re neutralizing any threats.”
“The fuck, Rob? Perché cazzo non me l’hai detto? Sta bene?” Why the fuck didn’t you tell me. Is she okay?
The room is tilting. I might hurl all over our booth at the Cat.
I grab hold of Rob’s beer, needing something cold in my hands. I take a slow breath in.
Rob puts his hand on the back of my neck, squeezes, bringing me back. “Paige is fine. She’s going on with life. No disruptions. She doesn’t even have a clue she’s got security.”
“Who’s on her?”
“Dante’s in charge of her detail. He’s got Enzo and Angelo.”
Dante?
Well, shit.
Dante covers security for Rob’s sister when she’s in town. I trained him myself. He’s not quite as good a shot as I am, but he’s related to her by blood, which is one of Rob’s requirements for Lyndie’s personal security detail. Rob trusts me with his own life but barely trusts anyone to be alone with Lyndie. And I get it. His sister is a fucking goddess now that she’s all grown up. And that’s no exaggeration. The girl’s best friend is an actual swimsuit magazine cover model and when the two go out together, Lyndie gets all the attention. She’d be walking runways if she weren’t Famiglia.
When Lyndie’s in Rome, which is pretty much all the time, Dante runs security for Rob’s twin ten-year-old brothers. Rob taking Dante off the boys and putting him on Paige is a big fucking deal.
And it tells me two things. First, Rob really fucking cares about what matters to me, and that makes my chest hurt in a way I don’t recognize but also don’t have time to deal with right now.
And second, he is seriously concerned for Paige’s safety.
“How close did Joey’s guys get to her?”
He looks at me funny, sits back in his seat again. “Don’t you mean Johnny’s guys?”
I stand up, jolting the table and spilling Rob’s drink, which says a lot since the table is bolted down. “ Johnny’s guys went after her?”
“No. They’ve been Joey’s guys. But how the fuck did you know that?”
I ignore his question and sit back down. No way we’re discussing Massimo right now. I lace my fingers and lean forward. “How close did the guy get?”
“The first time, one—”
“The first time?”
Rob shoots me a look. He hates being interrupted when we’re talking business. “The first time, the guy was waiting in the backseat of her car. Did you know the locks on her piece of shit don’t even work? I only had Angelo on her then. He was mainly covering the lobby of her building, following her when she left. Just in case. He went into the garage for a cigarette and saw movement in her backseat. He handled it just fine. That night I pulled Dante off the boys to oversee things.”
I know Paige loves that fucking car, but it’s unsafe, it doesn’t have an alarm, and she can’t charge her phone in it. The girl needs to be in an armored car.
Or I should drive her around. Be at her beck and call 24/7. Wherever she needs to go. Rest my hand on her thigh when we’re cruising. Sometimes have her ride on the back of my Ducati, arms wrapped around my stomach, tits pressed against my back.
Except none of that is what she wants.
I pull my phone out and dial Dante. Rob’s only telling me half the story, I can tell. Dante will tell me everything.
Rob’s watching me, arms spread wide. Cool as a fucking cucumber.
Dante answers on the first ring. “Damiano, hey, man.”
“What’s the PPD for Paige?”
“A twenty-four-hour post in her building lobby, one man parked on the street next to the garage entrance to monitor motor traffic in and out. I have three guys cycling eight-hour shifts on those posts—Matteo, Angelo, and Mike V. They stay at their posts even if she leaves. Then between Enzo, Jimmy, and me, we’re on rotation with two of us trailing her when she leaves her apartment, the other one stays. Everyone’s unmarked and going in and out in plain cars, not the Rovers.”
I hold the phone down and look at Rob. “You said three men. Dante has six on detail, Rob. Six . How big of a fucking threat is there?”
He nods his head slowly, looking deep at me.
The pull to go to her is insane. So is the need to puke all my guts up. No one can keep her as safe as I can. No one can. Dante’s good—Dante’s great—but he’s not good enough for Paige. I can kill or maim anyone at 100 meters and slit the throat of anyone who slips in closer.
But she doesn’t want to be with me.
I put the phone back to my ear. “How much action has there been?” I ask Dante since Rob clearly isn’t telling me shit.
“Four attempts.”
“Four?” I glare at Rob.
“But the last forty-eight hours have been quiet. Pretty sure she’s in for the night tonight, so expecting another quiet one.”
It’s right on the tip of my tongue to ask what visitors she’s had, or about anywhere she’s gone, then to hurt anyone she’s spent time with that isn’t Gina.
“If you need more manpower, let me know.”
“Will do. Rob already authorized as much muscle as I need.” Of course he did, because he fucking cares even though I put up thick fucking walls. “Right now, six is the sweet spot. It’s hard enough getting us in and out of Bridgeport unnoticed. We get too many men here, and the Bagliateris are going to claim we’ve declared war.”
I’m ready to declare fucking war, but I know I’m being completely irrational on that.
“Shift your reporting to me, not Rob.” I stare at Rob to see if he’s going to give me shit about this, but Megan walked over and started rubbing his shoulders, so he’s pretty much forgotten about me.
“Uh. . . Yeah, okay,” Dante reluctantly agrees. I outrank Dante, so he better fucking agree with me. I hang up and toss my phone down.
I’m staring at my hands, trying to figure shit out.
Salvo stands up, starts to walk away. “Well, looks like my job here is done. You want my other pudding, man?”