11. Romeo
Chapter 11
Romeo
D aniele navigates the car through the back streets until we reach the highway. Every mile has been fraught with tension and the storm raging inside of me has only grown. I have no desire to dampen it out. After all, it’s going to fuel me for days. We may not have any information—aside from Francesco’s signature on the bomb—but heads will roll for what has happened tonight.
That’s the one thing I can guarantee.
We have an enemy trying to extinguish us, and yet we’re no closer to finding him than we were before I arrived in the States. Massimo is certain that Francesco is behind this and although the evidence—Francesco's signature—points to that being the case, I just don’t understand why.
He was part of the family.
Could someone have set him up?
It’s no use speculating on the why right now, we need to find him and put a stop to these attacks. I blow out a breath, refocusing my thoughts. Tonight, they got close. Too close . We need to get ahead of them, figure out what their next move will be before they make it. If we don’t, then there will only be more bloodshed.
My mind replays the events of the evening.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
The shooters waited until we were seated in the restaurant and seemed to know where we were sitting. They very easily could have taken us out while we walked in. There would have been a lot fewer casualties if they had.
Very few people knew we were going to that specific restaurant tonight, let alone the finer details of our seating arrangements. In fact, the only people that knew who our reservation was for were me, Daniele, Massimo, and his men.
Do we have a rat?
Fuck. It’s the only explanation for all the attacks and certainly for tonight’s. Somebody must have told Francesco about our plans for the evening for him to have that much detail. If he was following us, he wouldn’t have known as much as he did, or have time to infiltrate the staff.
But why would he risk Aurora’s life?
Was she telling the truth about him not coming for her?
Is she the rat? As soon as the question forms, I dismiss it. She has no way of communicating with the outside world. And she could have been killed . I stare blankly at the scenery as it passes us by in a blur. The ghost of her, hidden underneath the table with fear cloaking her like a blanket, haunts me.
Aurora’s soft voice penetrates the fog in my mind. Her fingers brush over my arm as she murmurs, “You’re bleeding.” Her concern for me is laughable, but it makes my chest tighten, nonetheless.
As the adrenaline wears off, the throbbing ache from the gunshot wound makes itself known. I flex my fingers and reply, “It’s nothing, just a graze. I’ll survive.” It’s not like this is the first time I’ve taken a bullet.
Daniele’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Are you injured badly?”
Daniele and I grew up together when my family moved back to Sicily. He’s more like a brother to me than an employee, but for a man in his position, he worries about me more than he should. If I die, I die, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.
Aurora sighs heavily when I respond to him in Italian. “I’m fine. But if it makes you feel better, have Doc ready for when we arrive.”
The final thirty minutes of the drive back to Massimo’s are filled with a tense silence. It’s the kind that sucks the air out of the space and allows my mind to focus on the fury that’s twisting inside of me.
We come to a stop at the bottom of the steps outside the house, and I issue a command to Daniele to take Aurora to my room before jumping out of the car, taking the steps two at a time. Bursting through the door, it swings open, banging against the wall and nearly knocking Aldo over. If there wasn’t a mist of rage swallowing me whole, I’d ask if he was okay. Instead, I roar, “Where is Massimo?”
Aldo’s brow furrows before he steps aside and drops his head, pointing toward the back of the house. “He’s in the kitchen.”
I stalk in the direction of the kitchen, my fists clenching and unclenching as I close the distance. The sound of voices and radio chatter fill the air. There’s a level of comfort to the noise that reminds me of home, but right now it’s doing little to dampen my ire.
Massimo is seated at the kitchen table with a spoonful of what looks like gnocchi alla sorrentina raised to his lips. The spoon clangs to the bowl, splashing the sauce onto his black shirt. When he sees me, he pushes back from the table, his chair clattering to the floor. His brows reach for his hairline. “Holy shit. What happened?”
“You’ve got a fucking rat, is what the fuck happened, cousin .” I sneer. “Mark my words, Massimo, I’ll kill every single one of your men to find out who it is. And when I do, I’ll skin the topo, before I hang him from the tree by the front gate as a warning to anyone else that thinks it’s a smart idea to betray us.”
Holding up his hands, Massimo approaches me timidly. “Come, Romeo, we’ll have a drink and you can tell me exactly what’s happened.” He turns to Alma, his chef, and instructs, “Bring us two glasses and the whisky.”
There’s a pounding in my ears and when he gets close enough, I fist the front of his shirt, moving forward until his back hits the wall. He doesn’t fight my hold. The only sign of his frustration is in the narrowing of his eyes.
Tightening my hold on him, I bare my teeth and spit, “I don’t need to sit down and have a drink, Massimo. What I need is to find the person who is in communication with the man who just tried to kill me. No amount of talking will stop me from finding him. So, you either cooperate, or I’ll be inclined to believe that you're involved.”
As the words leave my lips, I know they aren’t true. There’s no way he’s involved. Massimo has always been a silent, broody type, waiting until the perfect moment to unleash his unhinged attacks. He’ll strike when you least expect it, not plot secretly in the background.
Releasing him, I step back and run my fingers through my hair. I force some of the tension out of my shoulders before I speak. “You have a rat, Massimo, and the last time I checked, you answer to me, not the other way round. Have your men lined up in the backyard in the next twenty minutes.”
Massimo waits until I’m on the threshold of the room before calling out, “If you’re going to start taking out my men, then I should at least know why, Romeo. This could be exactly what they want you to do; make us weak so they can plunge the knife in and finally finish us off.”
I twist abruptly toward him, and when I speak, my voice yields no emotion. “There were three gunmen at the restaurant.” I scrub a hand down my face while I try to calm my anger. “Civilians were killed, Massimo, and the only people who knew it was me going to that restaurant are in this house.”
Heaving out a sigh, Massimo says, “Anyone could have tipped them off, Rome. We called the fucking press?—”
I can’t contain my fury, shouting, “They could have fucking killed her, Massimo. She’s mine.” I jab my finger in my chest before dropping it and stalking toward him. There’s too much energy flowing through me, and I need to get it out.
Massimo quirks a brow, a smirk on his lips as he rolls his tongue around in his mouth. “She’s yours, yeah?”
“To fucking kill. And only once we’ve got what we need from her. You and I both know the leak has come from inside your house and if you can’t fix it, then I will.”
“I trust my men, Rome. But—” He exhales sharply before continuing, “If you say we have a rat, everything moves to a need-to-know basis. We’ll find out who it is without needlessly killing people. Go and get cleaned up, then we can figure out a plan of attack.”
Deep down, I know that he’s right, but the dark and dangerous beast inside of me doesn’t want to listen. I’ve killed three men tonight, but it’s not enough . There’s a craving to do some damage pulsing under my skin.
A knock on the kitchen door pulls my focus away from Massimo. Doc walks in, closely followed by Daniele. “I heard there was a bullet wound that needed tending to?”
Massimo huffs out a laugh, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, you could have fucking led with that .
I grunt an acknowledgment to Doc before moving toward the table and shrugging out of my jacket. I lay it over the back of a chair before getting to work on the buttons of my shirt. “It’s just a graze.”
With my shirt discarded, Doc picks up my arm, perching his glasses on the edge of his nose as he twists and turns it under the lights. “Yes, it looks like a graze and the scratches on your arm appear to be superficial. We’ll get you cleaned up to minimize the risk of infection, but it doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches. You’ll be pleased to know that you’ll survive.”
“I’m sure my enemies will be thrilled.”
Alma hands me a glass of amber liquid before she walks back to the counter, seemingly unfazed by the interaction I had earlier with Massimo. A headache pounds at the base of my skull as I silently urge Doc to work faster as he moves to get the first aid kit to clean me up.
I’m exhausted .
Both physically and mentally, but it’s a hazard of the job and I’ll never walk away. Yes, you have to always be on your guard and there is always someone looking to take you out, but my family is the mafia and the mafia is my family.
This is all I’ve ever known .
At some point in their lives, every man in my family has been the head of the mafia. We have instilled fear in our enemies and that is why, whoever is behind this, is attacking us from the shadows. But no matter how long it takes, they won’t be able to hide forever.