Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Luca
“W hat do we know?” Gio asked.
Marco dragged on his cigar. He’d been sucking them down like they were his only source of oxygen for hours. I couldn’t blame him. They had Mamma Gina, whoever they were.
It was sometime after dinner, maybe seven or eight. Marco had closed the upstairs of Vesuvio for the night so we could strategize about what came next. Vito and Gina had been kidnapped, and we didn’t know why. No ransom message had been sent, and there was no trace of the unmarked silver Elantra. While I was getting the bullet extracted from my shoulder, Marco and Vinnie made calls to their capi and contacts all over the city. Hours later, we sat around one of the poker tables with cigars and drinks.
“I counted four men,” Vinnie said. “An unmarked Hyundai. At one point someone shouted, ‘Italian fucks,’ but I couldn’t make out the rest.”
Marco removed the cigar from between his teeth. “Stay away from my sister,” Marco said, slow and grim. Smoke trailed from his lips with each word. “You hear that, you Italian fucks.”
My heart slammed into my ribs. “Rory,” I said. “Siobhán only has one brother.”
Marco tipped his head.
What happened at the deli was traumatic enough, but when she found out her brother orchestrated the hit? I shoved a hand into my hair and pulled. “Dio. This is going to kill her.”
Her family had put her in danger. Again. And not just her, but our baby. I might be able to protect her from bullets, but I couldn’t protect her from her family no matter how much I wanted to spare her that pain.
“Do they know she’s pregnant?” Vinnie asked.
“No, not yet.”
Vinnie looked at Marco, and they exchanged an unspoken message.
“Does she know anything? Where they might’ve taken them?” Gio asked.
“No,” I said and shook my head. “She stays out of her family’s business, and I’m not going to ask her to get involved.” I met Marco’s eyes. “I won’t put her in that position.”
Marco held my gaze. “Luca’s right. Siobhán doesn’t know, and she’s one of us. I don’t want my grandchild in danger.”
Grandchild… I was going to be a father. I was still trying to wrap my brain around the idea, but it created such warmth in my chest. And for the moment, Siobhán was safe. Our baby was safe. I’d go to her as soon as I could. Comfort her. Make sure she knew I wouldn’t let anything happen to either of them.
“We need information,” I said. “And I promise you, Siobhán doesn’t have any, but I bet I know who does.”
Gio lifted an eyebrow.
“Durand,” Vinnie said.
I nodded. “Assane Durand. He’s hosting a game Saturday night.”
“We can’t wait that long.” Marco gritted the words out, and his eyes sparked.
“No, we can’t.” Without knowing the endgame, every hour could be the difference between life and death for Vito and Gina. “But we can reach out, see if he’ll bite.”
“He stays out of shit like this,” Vinnie said.
“True, but it’s worth a shot,” I said.
“I’ll send the message,” Marco said.
“What about Providence?” I asked.
“What about ’em?” Gio asked. “Patrizi’s not going to know shit about what’s going on up here, not any more than we do.”
“I already called him,” Vinnie said. “Told him to keep an eye out.”
I rolled my shoulder and sipped my scotch. The joint was stiff from the swollen muscle, and the exit wound still pinched, but I was almost fully healed thanks to Siobhán.
Feeding took on an entirely new meaning after drinking from her. It was intimate, special, and she’d shared her blood not just to provide me with sustenance but so I could survive. But I needed her to survive. A future without Siobhán was no future at all, and I would do anything to make sure I’d never face that possibility.
“Mikey’s arraignment is Monday,” Vinnie said with an edge of suspicion and frustration. “Can’t help wonder if Vito and Gina suddenly going missing isn’t a coincidence.”
“Maybe,” Gio said and rocked his head. “Regardless, someone’s gotta take care of the case.”
“One of my lawyers will handle it,” Marco said. “Anna can step in for Gina at the Foundation, but she’s going to need help with anything related to Sources.” He glanced at me, and I nodded.
“So,” Vinnie said. “Aspettiamo.” He leaned back in his chair, and it creaked.
Gio pulled out his phone. I lifted my chin at Marco and dropped my eyes to his cigar case. He slid it across the table. I took one—a Cuban, no less—and lit it.
“I want Luca back in my crew,” Marco said flatly.
My head snapped up.
“No. Assolutamente no.” Vinnie’s voice boomed across the table. “He’s part of my crew. That was the deal. Business at The Dollhouse has never been better.” He pointed at me. “Because of him.”
“Come on, Vinnie. You know the importance of family.”
“I do, which is why I took him in when you disowned him.”
Marco shifted his gaze to me. “People make mistakes,” he said solemnly. “Besides, you’ve got more kids than you know what to do with. Or probably even know about,” he added dryly.
Vinnie folded his arms across his chest and scowled.
“I have one son, and I want him close, especially now that he’s going to be a father. I want him in my crew. Il mio sottocapo.”
My stomach flipped. His son. And his underboss. The DeVita family heir.
“You’re asking a lot,” Vinnie grumbled.
Marco tipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Luca?” Vinnie fixed his scowl on me.
“I have a family to think about now,” I said. “My own family. I have to consider what’s best for them, what’s best for Siobhán.”
“What about The Dollhouse?”
“Dominic can run The Dollhouse. He knows what he’s doing and how I run things. He won’t let any of that slip. He wants to make captain.”
Vinnie’s eyes darkened, and he glared at Marco. “You’re not getting him back without giving me something in return.” It wasn’t an argument, and it wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact. Vinnie pointed at Marco. “I’m taxing you five points for this.”
“Three.”
“And there’ll be a transition period. I want Luca to oversee Dominic for the next month. Longer if needed. And if it doesn’t work out—if he fucks up—you’re paying for it.”
“If he fucks it up, we’ll work something out,” Marco said.
“He won’t fuck up,” I said.
“You got that?” Vinnie said to Gio.
Gio nodded.
Vinnie shot back the rest of his whiskey and pushed out of his chair. “Are we done here? It’s one of my countless kids’ birthdays”—he sneered at Marco, and Marco snorted—“and I need to make an appearance before bedtime.” He buttoned his suit jacket.
“We’re done,” Marco said.
“Text if you hear anything.” Vinnie’s expression subdued to one of mutual understanding and empathy.
“Naturalmente. A presto.”
“A presto,” Vinnie said and left Vesuvio, Gio in tow.
With nothing else to mask the noise, my sensitive hearing caught the din of mid-week revelers that punched through the soundproofing in the floor. Beyond that, Marco and I smoked our cigars in silence, and for the first time in years, the lack of distraction didn’t bother me. We needed a minute to sit with everything in solidarity, in our new normal, untarnished by the past and focused on the future.
Marco snubbed out his cigar, threw his ankle across his knee, and folded his hands in his lap. “Siobhán is family. Her brother is not.” His expression remained implacable, his words cold as ice.
“I understand,” I said. “So will Siobhán. She might not like our world, but she understands it.”
“How did she take it?” He wasn’t talking about the attack.
“Better than I hoped.”
“She’s strong.”
“She is.”
“Strong enough for what comes next?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Stronger,” I said with confidence.
Marco picked up his whiskey and swirled it in his glass. I finished my scotch.
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “We’ll find her,” he said, his voice rough but resolute. “We’ll get her back.”
“We will,” I said, unable to contemplate any other truth. I couldn’t lose another parent. “Vito too.”
He nodded and drained the rest of his drink. “It’s good to have you back, Luca.”
Emotion clogged my throat. I cleared it and swallowed. “It’s good to be back, Zio. I won’t let you down.”
Marco stood, and I followed. He clasped my shoulders and that muscle in his jaw worked to keep up the strong front he put on for all of us. He patted me on the cheek. “So che non lo farai, figliolo. I know you won’t.”