44. VIN
VIN
After the plane takes off from the Demonio estate, my future wife and child on board, I watch the security camera on my phone long after it disappears.
Matti and Tommy knock at the door and clear their throats to announce themselves, and I hold up a finger silencing them as I hit dial and call Sophie’s guards.
Jett picks up on the first ring.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re in the air, boss. Just left.”
“I know that. How is she? Does she look okay? Does she look happy? Tired? What?”
Jett is silent a moment. “Uh. Hard to say, boss. She’s looking out the window.”
“Is she smiling?” I don’t even try to keep the irritation out of my voice. How fucking hard is it to look at her beautiful fucking face and tell me how she’s feeling? Jesus fucking Christ.
“She’s not… not smiling, boss.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I rub a hand over my face as Tommy and Matti come in and find a seat, Matti sitting on the blanket that Sophie folded and left on the bench.
I scowl at him and he frowns back, confused.
“Jett, here’s how this works. You don’t make decisions about what’s worth telling me.
Everything is worth telling me. Every stop.
Every person she talks to. If she coughs, I want to know. You understand?”
“Uh, sure. Yes, sir.”
“She eats today. Real food. Make sure of it.”
“Sir… I don’t know if it’s my place to—”
“If she wants to go anywhere alone, no she doesn’t. She can be as mad as she wants, but she doesn’t go without you. Am I clear?”
“Understood.”
“And Jett.”
“Boss?”
”She’s not a job. She’s your only fucking thought tonight.”
“Of course, Mr. Demonio.”
When I hang up, Matti and Tommy are quiet, watching me. I move my arm gingerly, trying to loosen the tightness that cramped my muscles the minute she was out of my sight.
Matti squints at my back. “Thought you got stitched up. What happened?”
“Looks like all your stitches ripped,” Tommy comments blandly. “Do we need to call the doc?”
“Why are you here?” How and why my stitches ripped are none of their fucking business.
“We hit Red Hook Wednesday night,” Tommy starts.
“Their distribution warehouse. We took out roughly two million in product, maybe more. We hit Newark the same night, their consolidation point on the south side. That one burned for six hours. The meatpacking location we’ve been watching, we hit the personnel there.
Four of theirs are in the hospital. Two aren’t. ”
I nod. “And?”
“That’s three strikes in under a week,” Matti says. “They’re going to hit back, and they’re going to hit hard. We need to decide where we want to be standing when they do. Tommy wants to take the fight to them before they can regroup. I want to pull everyone in, fortify, make them come to us.”
“You both want your women and children home,” I say.
They look at each other.
“Yeah,” Tommy says. “We do.”
I lean back against the head board and cross my arms, careful of my side. “Until my woman and my child are safe at home, the war is not my primary focus.”
The room goes very still.
Matti’s expression moves through phases as he processes what I said. Tommy blinks once.
“Your—” Matti starts.
“Sophie is pregnant.”
Matti moves first, crossing the room, and claps me on the shoulder. I nod at him.
“Congratulations,” Tommy says. “Seriously, Vin. Congratulations, man.”
“Thank you.”
“And Sophie and you are…” Matti’s voice trails off at the look on my face. He exhales hard and leans his elbows on his knees, nodding as he stares down at the floor.
“Table the war strategy for now,” I finally say. “We’ll reconvene.”
**
Dr. Rossi arrives later that night, after Matti and Tommy leave. I’m just out of the shower, a towel around my waist, eyes glued to my phone, staring at the security cameras at the Arsenal.
“You knew,” I say before he gets his coat off.
He sets his bag down on the chair and doesn’t look at me. “I received the results of her bloodwork intending to let you know when I changed your bandages. I sent her an email with bloodwork findings and intended to—”
“She got the results before I did.” I stare him down. He doesn’t flinch.
“Going forward,” I growl, “anything that happens with Sophie or with the baby, I hear about it first. Before she does. Before anyone does. You call me directly.”
He raises an eyebrow. “The best interest of your child—”
“I’m telling you how this is going to work. She will have the best prenatal care possible, whatever she needs, whatever the baby needs, whenever they need it. You will make it happen or you will find someone who can.”
Dr. Rossi nods once and picks up his bag. “Let me look at what you’ve done to my stitches.”
I sit forward on the edge of the bed while he works, staring at the security cameras. The Arsenal is closed and she should be on her way home soon.
The phone buzzes; a call from Jett. I answer on the first ring.
“Mr. Demonio.” I instantly know I’m going to hate whatever he’s about to fucking say. “Miss Sophia says she’s too tired to make the return trip tonight. She says she’s staying at the apartment above the restaurant.”
Yep. Fucking hate it. Rossi continues stitching me up.
“She says to tell you she’ll call you in the morning,” Jett adds, like this helps.
It does not help.
“Hold,” I say. I lower the phone and breathe through my nose for a count of three. She’s testing me. I’m not failing the fucking test. I raise the phone again. “Tell her I understand.”
“Uh. Okay. Yes, sir.”
I hang up and stew while Rossi finishes up and ties off the last stitch.
I stand up and reach for my shirt.
“You need to—” he starts.
“Get your bag,” I say. “You’re coming with me.”