Chapter 23 #3
“He’s ready to call in the National Guard since the alerts went off.
He already has men headed to the hospital.
He about lost his mind when he saw where you were.
If he weren’t in a meeting with investors from Japan, he’d be on his way too.
He’s been trying to get them out the door without physically kicking them out for the last half hour. ”
“Don’t call him.”
There’s a rigid command in her voice—one that comes from experience in a perilous situation, not a spoiled request from a Mafia princess. I can hear the entire conversation because she has the phone against the ear closer to me. She has it angled, so her ear doesn’t totally muffle it.
“Then stay on the phone with me, Ms. Vizzini. Please.”
“Fine.”
The conversation ends even if the call doesn’t.
We’re silent in the car. The men wouldn’t dare speak unless absolutely necessary when someone from another syndicate can hear.
Neither Tre nor I have anything to say. She leans against me.
I want to wrap my arm around her shoulders, but my back is already killing me.
When I don’t, it’s so unusual that she looks up at me.
She notices my back doesn’t touch the backrest. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question.
I offer her a tight smile before she reaches up and uses her sleeve to swipe my damp brow.
We were all breathing hard and sweating when we reached the vehicle, but with the air blowing, everyone but me has cooled off.
She lowers her arm and grasps my hands in a death grip.
If this is how hard she holds on, then I might not survive childbirth.
She’ll be the one opening all the jars in our home.
Thinking about our future is what’s getting me through this shitstorm.
It’s keeping me from losing my shit because someone’s endangering Tre.
If she weren’t with me, I’d tell my men to stop and take a stand, end these motherfuckers who want to keep Tre and me apart.
Tre stretches to whisper in my ear. “Can you tell which car it is?”
I look back between us, not at the traffic behind us but at Pedro and Miguel. They’re the ones watching the back window.
“Which one?”
“The blue Ford F-150 and the gray Dodge Charger.”
One with speed to keep up with us and cut us off if there wasn’t traffic.
The other one with size to try to ram our SUV off the road.
I wish we were in my family’s vehicles. I’d be more confident about their aftermarket, reinforced safety features like bulletproof armor.
At least we’d started with four today. One for Tre and me and four for a full convoy to surround us.
We do that whenever we’re going to be on the freeway.
We stayed on surface streets on the way to the bakery. We’re only taking the risk on the highway right now because we need a more direct route with higher speed limits and fewer lights.
“Honk, please.”
Tre’s sweeter with her request. Antonio blares the horn for a good five seconds.
“Hank, a blue F-150 and gray Charger.”
We reach the private driveway as the gate finishes opening. Antonio pulls straight in and spots the open garage door. He makes a beeline for it. Tre ducks her head into my lap when there’s rapid gunfire. We can’t tell if it’s our pursuers or Vizzini men. I don’t need to know until I get Tre inside.
Before the first time we went out with a Vizzini driver, I made sure they knew my protocol that the engine stays on and the doors locked until the garage door is three inches from the floor.
It opens faster if we need to back out, and a grenade isn’t rolling under it.
It’s less likely someone can get down and shoot before the door reaches the ground.
The moment we hear the rattle, Josue’s out the front passenger door and yanking mine open as I reach across to unfasten Tre’s seat belt. She swats my hand away as she does her own. I unclick mine and slide out. She’s quick to follow me.
“Who’ll be in the house?”
“You think someone breached the security and no one noticed?”
“I mean if they aren’t within one degree blood relation, I’ll shoot if they come near you.”
I reinforce my seriousness by pulling my gun. The other men do the same. Her eyes widen to where it must hurt.
“My dad. Maybe my uncles by now. I don’t think my mom could be home from work this quickly. I don’t know. Maybe my cousins and Tristano.”
Josue eases the door open. I shift in front of Tre as he opens the door wider. We’re greeted with the barrel of Frank’s rifle. Immediately, Josue lowers his gun, but he doesn’t step aside. He’s protecting me as much as he is Tre.
“Dad!”
Tre tries to move around me, but my arm goes out. “Who’s here, Frank?”
“It’s clear.”
“Who?”
“Tom, Santi, and Tristano.”
Reassured, I let Tre go ahead of me. She runs to her father, who pushes his slung rifle around his back.
He opens his arms, and she launches herself against him.
Her relief at being with her father doesn’t mean she prefers him to me, but I can’t help the flash of fear and jealousy that she believes he can protect her better than I can.
When she pulls away, she allays my fears.
“Thank God Joaquin was with me.”
“If he weren’t, you wouldn’t be a target.”
“Dad! We don’t know that.”
“Salvatore thinks so, and I agree.”
Fuck that piece of shit.
Of course, he would.