Chapter 2
GIO
Iswirl the amber liquid in my glass before taking a sip. The whiskey burns just right going down. Enzo sits across from me, typing something on his phone.
"Seems quiet tonight," I mutter, scanning the dimly lit space. The Capstone's speakeasy is our territory, but you can never be too careful.
Enzo nods, putting his phone away. "Good. We need some peace and quiet after the shitstorm of the past few months."
I grunt in agreement, thinking of my younger brother, Marco. The memory of his blood-soaked shirt, the panic in his eyes as they rushed him to the hospital, still haunts me. My grip tightens on the glass.
"Speaking of," I say, glancing at my diamond encrusted Rolex, "he's late." More observation than criticism.
Enzo takes a sip. "Yeah, when isn't he?"
A few minutes go by, and the door opens, white light spilling into the darkness. Marco's familiar silhouette appears, and something in my chest loosens. Even after all these months, seeing him walking—actually fucking walking—fills me with relief.
"Look who's here," Enzo says.
Marco strides toward us, moving with only the slightest hint of stiffness.
"Well, well," I say as he reaches our table. "Senator Bonventi, so nice of you to grace us with his presence."
Marco grins, sliding into the seat next to me. "Miss me, brother?"
I snort. "Like a bad hangover."
Enzo leans forward, his eyes sharp as he looks Marco over. "How you feeling?"
"Better every day. Physical therapist says I'm ahead of schedule." He drums his fingers on the table. "Says it's like I wasn't even shot, so that's got to count for something."
I signal the waitress for another round. "And Alina? She still playing nurse?"
Marco smiles. "You know her. She's been amazing, but I think she's about ready to strangle me if I don't stop complaining about the exercises."
We all laugh, the tension easing a bit. The waitress arrives with our drinks, and for a moment, we're just three brothers having a drink, not the most feared family in Chicago.
"Speaking of Alina, she told me that the whole assassination attempt was actually good for me politically. So watch out, maybe I'll run for president one day."
"Jesus help us," I say and take a drink.
"Oh, fuck off," Marco says, laughing.
"So," Enzo says after a moment, his voice low, "you said you had some new info on that piece-of-shit shooter?"
Marco sets down his drink. "Yeah, this." He reaches into his pocket.
He pulls out a folded piece of paper and smooths it out on the table.
"I got this from the police chief today," Marco says, sliding it toward Enzo and me.
"What the hell is this?" Enzo asks, leaning forward to get a better look.
"It's a photocopy of a note that was on the shooter," Marco says casually and takes a drink.
I snatch up the paper, my eyes scanning the words scrawled across it. My blood runs cold as I read them aloud:
I'm sorry. Please protect my sister.
Sorry my ass, but I wonder what's so important about his sister? If she's involved in any way - I need to meet her.
I lean forward, my muscles tensing. "I'll go talk to her," I say, already mentally preparing for the confrontation.
"Hold on, Gio. Let's not rush into anything. What did the police turn up?"
Marco takes another sip of his drink, ice clinking against glass. "Fuck all, that's what. They couldn't link him to anything or anyone. As far as they're concerned, this asshole acted alone. No connections, no accomplices, just a nutjob with a gun."
Immediately, something doesn't sit right with me. No Russian connection, nothing? That can't be true. The thought makes my blood boil, and I down the rest of my whiskey, relishing the burn.
"Interesting," Enzo says.
The muscles in my jaw clench. "And the sister? What's her deal?"
Marco shrugs. "Nothing, apparently. They went and talked to her, but she claims to know nothing. She hasn't even been in the country for the last five years or something like that. Living in Europe. Florence, I think."
"Bullshit," I spit out, slamming my fist down. The sound draws a few wary glances. I ignore them. "No fucking way she doesn't know something. You don't write a note like that if your sister's completely in the dark."
Enzo pats my arm, a silent warning to relax. But I'm beyond caring. The rage that's been simmering since I allowed Marco to get shot is threatening to boil over.
"What? I'm sorry, but I just don't fucking buy it," I say, leaning back. "Five years in Florence? Convenient fucking timing."
Enzo looks at Marco. "Well, we know where Gio stands. What about you, Marco? Your opinion is what matters here."
"Honestly, I'm kind of with Gio on this. The whole thing feels off."
"Damn right it feels off," I say. "She has to know something." I lean forward, placing both hands flat on the table. "She might be able to lie to the cops, but I'll get the truth out of her, one way or another."
"Okay, but do it easy, Gio." Enzo's voice carries that edge of Don authority. "We need to be smart about this. We don't want a mess."
I laugh.
"I mean it." Enzo's eyes lock with mine. "You go talk to her, fine. But you keep your shit together. This isn't some lowlife you can rough up in a back alley. We need information, not a body to dispose of."
I grind my teeth. "Fine. I'll play nice." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "But if she's involved—"
"Then we handle it," Enzo cuts me off. "As a family."
I nod, feeling myself calm slightly. This is why Enzo's in charge. He always knows how to rein me in.
"So, what's our next move?" Marco asks, leaning in closer.
I crack my knuckles, mind already racing with possibilities. "First, we need to find out everything we can about this sister. Where she lives, where she works, who she talks to."
Marco nods approvingly. "That's easy. I got all that from the investigation. I'll send it over to you tonight."
"Good," I say, already eager to get started. "Once I have that, I'll make contact. Casual at first, just to get a read on her. If she's as innocent as she claims, we'll know soon enough."
"Just remember," Enzo says, his voice cutting through my thoughts, "we need answers more than we need vengeance. At least for now."
"I got it," I assure him. "I'll get the information we need, whatever it takes."
We stand to leave, and as we walk out, I can't help but smile.
This sister might think she's safe, hiding behind her lies and half-truths. But she's about to learn a harsh lesson—no one escapes the Bonventi family.