Chapter 15 #2
The implications increase my worry. Someone knew Antonio's security protocols, knew which warehouse to target, knew who’d respond.
"Question is," I say, my voice hardening as I survey the faceless dead surrounding us, "who wants us dead badly enough to hire this kind of talent? Is this directed at Antonio or La Corona?”
"Could be Bratva. They've been pushing at the edges of our territory for months now,” one of Frank’s men, Georgio I think his name is, offers.
I shake my head. "Bratva would leave a message. They’d want us to know it's them.”
"What about the Irish?" Frank suggests. "Donahue’s been making noise since we shut down his distribution channel through the port."
"Possible," I concede, but deep down, I don’t think so. This feels different. Too clean. Too precise.
“What’s clear is that this wasn’t just territory or product. This was an elimination attempt."
Frank nods grimly. "And they nearly succeeded."
"Roman, we need Falcone on this." I refer to Captain Michael Falcone, our most valuable asset in the police department.
Roman nods, already pulling out his phone. "What do you want him looking for?"
"Everything. Ballistics on their weapons. Recent arrivals of known hit teams." I run a hand through my hair, assessing, calculating. "Maybe he knows them, but if not, someone brought these men in, housed them, briefed them. There's a trail somewhere."
"Falcone will want extra for this," Roman warns. "Especially if it means burying evidence from an active crime scene."
"Pay him whatever he wants." Money is meaningless compared to information right now. "Tell him I need preliminary findings by tomorrow night. And I want access to any surveillance footage from the surrounding area—traffic cams, security systems, everything within a five-block radius."
Roman makes the call.
"Also," I add before Roman finishes the call, "have Falcone run background checks on everyone who knew about this warehouse's security protocols. Everyone."
Roman's eyes narrow slightly. "You mean everyone here tonight too? Including Frank?"
"Everyone," I repeat, keeping my voice neutral.
Someone is trying to bring Antonio and La Corona down from the inside.
It seems unlikely it’s Frank, but everyone can be bought for a price. Salvatore and his hunger for power taught me that.
I make arrangements for the two men I lost to be removed from the scene. Neither is married, but they do have parents whom I’ll take care of. It’s a promise I make to all the men who risk their lives for me and my business.
“I’m going to see Antonio. Roman and Frank, you’re in charge of the cleanup. Roman, you deal with Falcone when he gets here.”
When I arrive at Antonio’s, it’s late and he’s asleep.
In the past, I would have had his staff wake him up, but I decide not to do that tonight.
No sense in having him deal with this when he’s not more alert. I leave a note for him to call me on his desk and then head home.
I’m bone tired and amped up as I walk through my door. Nearly being killed has a way of boosting adrenaline.
Entering my home also brings Gabriella to mind, adding to the crazy mix of fatigue and agitation.
I owe her an apology, but I’m not in a state to go toe to toe with her.
I decided that a drink is in order. I grab a bottle of whisky and head to my room.
I take a quick shower, put on lounge pants and a T-shirt, and drink my first glass of whisky looking out my window over the bitterly cold night.
The sky is clear, and seeing it makes me think back to Christmas Eve when I was eight and trying to stay up to see Santa’s sleigh in the night sky.
I was filled with wonder and excitement then, not unlike what I often see in Gabriella when she’s not being stubborn or assertive. She was lucky to have Antonio as a father.
Yes, he indulged her, but by doing so, she’s retained the light that makes her so uniquely her.
Me? By the end of that Christmas Eve night nearly forty years ago, I was humiliated and beaten by my father, with the help of my brother. I never believed in Santa again.
I never believed in anything except that my survival depended on keeping everyone at a distance.
I pour another glass of whisky, drink it, and pour another, repeating until I feel numb.
It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk this much because I like to keep my wits about me.
But I’m so fucking tired of holding to life with an iron grip.
Guarding my thoughts and feelings is exhausting, especially with Gabriella in my orbit.
I down the amber liquid and spill a bit as I refill my glass, wondering what it would be like to let loose like Gabriella wants me to.
What would that be like?
The closest I’ve ever come to it was last Christmas, those few weeks I spent with Gabriella.
It was the most amazing time in my life. To be seen. To laugh. To feel connected to another human being.
But it was also the most terrified I’d ever been.
Well, except for earlier tonight when I realized I didn’t use a condom.
I hate that I hurt Gabriella, but she knows I’m shit as a person. I’d be a terrible husband and father. Tonight proved it.
Still, I should apologize to her.
I stand, wobble, and stumble to the bedroom door. I’m like a marble in a pinball machine as I bounce against the wall making my way to her room.
I use the edge of my glass to knock on her door. “Gabriella.” I give my head a shake as my voice doesn’t sound right.
The door opens and those intelligent, beautiful, full or wonder eyes stare up at me. Then they narrow. “Are you drunk?”
“Yep.”
“Why?” She seems worried.
“I’m tired. So fucking tired.”
She opens the door. “Come in. You should lie down.”
I drape my arm around her as she helps me to her bed. I lie back and close my eyes.
The bed is warm like she was just in it. Her scent wraps around me. I feel like I’ve entered heaven.
“I’m sorry I’m such a shit.”
“Shitfaced is more like it.” She takes my glass to the bathroom and returns with it, except now it has water. “Here, drink this and take these.” She hands me two pills.
I do my best to comply, but my body isn’t following the directions my brain is trying to give. I drop one pill and spill part of the water. “Oops… sorry.”
“What happened tonight?”
I finally get the pills in my mouth and wash them down with water. “I fucked you without a condom.”
“So you got drunk?”
I shake my head, but the motion makes the room spin. “After that, I killed some men.” I try to hold up my fingers but it’s heavy. “Four? Five… I can’t remember.”
“Are you okay?” Her hands touch me like they’re looking for wounds.
I close my eyes and smile. “I like your hands on me.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“No. You got hurt. I hurt everyone. I don’t want to. I just do.”
She makes a tsking sound. “Get some sleep, Marco.”
Sleep shimmers at the edge of consciousness. “I’m bad for you.”
“You’re a moron.”
I like how she gives me shit. “Sorry.” I take her hand, hold it close like an anchor.
For a moment, I allow myself to feel whole with her filling the missing pieces of me. I savor it as I drift away.