Chapter 10 – Sienna #2
"It doesn’t look good, Sienna. It looks like you were in cahoots with the shooter, staying quiet so he could get away." Luca pauses for effect. “If this gets out…”
My stomach drops. Could anyone really believe that I had anything to do with this? I have no reason to be involved. "It wasn't like that. Come on, you know me."
Silence on the other end. For a moment, I think maybe he understands, maybe he's actually going to listen to me.
"I thought I knew you, but people change." His voice hardens. "You need to help me find him before he finds you."
This again. That shooter has probably left the country by now. He’s not worried about little old me. Even if he was, how’s he going to find me?
"I'll help," I say. "By going to the police. Like a normal person. They can protect me."
The laugh that comes through the phone is harsh. "The police? Yeah. You walk into a police station, and he'll know about it within hours. He’ll know who you are and where you live."
I scoff. “This is real life, Luca, not a movie. You're just trying to scare me into doing what you want.”
Not that I’d admit it to him, but it’s working.
"I'm trying to keep you alive," he shouts, his control slipping. "But by all means, be stubborn. Don’t tell me who he is and wait till he comes for you.”
“I don’t know who he is!"
Am I saying it wrong? What about this part is so confusing?
Turning on his heel, tail straight in the air, Vito refuses his food and prowls back toward his favorite armchair, my offering firmly rejected. He’s going to have to get a little less precious if he’s going to survive on the streets.
"I know that, but they don't.” Luca’s patience is worn thin. “And by going to the police, by suggesting you have important information to tell them, you'll paint a target on your back so bright that every hired gun in the city will be able to find you."
"I'm just supposed to trust you?” The idea is laughable.
The only danger I’ve ever been in, the only bad luck I’ve ever had, has been because of his family. Twice now. Yet I’m supposed to think he has my best interests at heart? "No fucking way. Never again."
“Sienna–” My name is a warning. His composure is cracking.
“Don’t. Don’t pretend you give a shit about what happens to me." I hang up.
My heart is pounding, blood rushing in my ears, as I stare at the phone in my hand. It starts buzzing again almost immediately. I decline it. It buzzes again. I decline it again, then switch it to silent and toss it onto the coffee table like it’s on fire.
Fuck.
The apartment feels too small, the walls pressing in. I grab my jacket from the hook by the door and yank it open, determined not to be bullied into doing what he wants.
Someone was shot. It’s my civic duty to tell the police everything I saw and let them get justice for Kate, and what she’s going through. Not help Luca in his quest for vigilante revenge.
When I fling open the door, Tony straightens from where he's leaning against the opposite wall, eyebrows rising in question as I reappear sooner than expected. Or maybe, it’s because the walls here are paper-thin, and he heard every word I shrieked at his boss.
"Can you take me to the police station, please? My car is still at the restaurant."
Tony doesn't ask questions. He glares at me, then nods once and escorts me to a black car parked around the corner. It's not flashy, not like Bruno's, but it's clean and solid, and the windows are tinted dark enough that nobody can see inside.
He opens the rear door, and I slide in, suddenly feeling tired and emotional after my exchange with Luca.
My reflection stares back at me from the partition glass, flushed and furious, gym hair escaping its pony tail. I look like a woman on the verge of a very public meltdown.
Maybe I am. Maybe that’s where this is headed. It would be well overdue.
We're three blocks away when I spot the maroon car again. Same one from earlier, or close enough. It’s two cars back, keeping pace, but when it slows down, indicator on, I let out a sigh of relief. Luca’s making me paranoid.
"Tony?"
His eyes flick to the rearview mirror. "Yes?”
I give him the most charming smile I can manage. "Can we make a stop first?"
He glances at me in the mirror, waiting for more details.
"The hospital. I want to drop flowers off for Kate."
If he thinks it's a bad idea, he doesn't say so, just looks ahead and signals the next turn. As we pass a liquor store on the corner, I ask him to pull over, digging through my purse for the last twenty I know is in there and some loose change.
Inside the store, I pick the least wilted bunch I can find from the sad bucket of flowers by the register and hand over the twenty without letting myself think about it.
The woman behind the counter gives me my change. Three dollars and forty cents. Fuck.
Back in the car, I cradle the flowers in my lap, grateful for Tony’s lack of conversational skills. I'm reaching for the door handle when he speaks. "She’s in the ICU, with a guard outside, you won’t get near her."
“I know. I won’t be long.”
The reception desk is bright and sterile. The woman behind it, with one phone held in the crook of her neck and another ringing, looks up with a huge smile that dims immediately when I ask about Ms. O'Sullivan. "Family only, I'm afraid."
"I just wanted to leave these for her." I hesitate then hold out the flowers, aware of how pathetic they look compared to the elaborate arrangements in the window of the gift shop. "Can you make sure she gets them?"
She takes them with a warmer smile than they deserve. "Of course. And the name?"
Another pause. "Sienna. Just Sienna."
She jots it down, eyeing me with curiosity, then sets them down gently on the desk beside her. “I’ll drop them off on my break.”
Smiling my thanks, I turn and leave in a hurry, grateful I didn’t cross paths with any of the Calvano’s. I only thought about that possibility after I was already inside.
Fuck, Luca’s probably here visiting, and he’s the last person I want to see.
Walking back through the parking lot, I scan for him, keeping my head low to avoid being seen.
I'm almost at Tony's car when I see it, the maroon car parked three rows over. The engine is off, but the driver's window is cracked open, and a thin ribbon of cigarette smoke is curling out into the cold air.
My feet slow, but my heart doesn't.
Luca's warning echoes in my head, the part I've been trying to ignore since I hung up on him.
He'll know who you are and where you live.
I get back in the car without a word and close the door.
Tony twists in his seat and stares at me, taking in my twisted fingers, my downcast gaze, and generally defeated attitude.
“Police station?” A pause. “Or home.” Tony catches my eye in the mirror. “You’re allowed to take your time and gather your thoughts. Weigh up your options.”
Checking for the car that appears to be following us, I know that if I spotted it, Tony surely did too. I’m pretty sure that’s the purpose of its presence.
I’m obviously being followed.
By who, I don’t know.
"Home," I say, feeling like a coward but knowing that if it is someone out to hurt me, I’m a sitting duck. With no family, no boyfriend, and soon to be homeless, I’d be the easiest person in the world to get rid of anyway. "This doesn't mean I'm helping him."
Tony pulls out of the parking lot and takes a scenic route back to my soon-to-be former residence.
"He's right," Tony says, keeping his eyes on the road. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you need his help. Better him than Alfonso."
I glare at him, catching his eye briefly in the rearview mirror, wondering what he knows about me and Luca’s history, if anything.
There's something almost sympathetic in the way he looks at me that makes me feel worse, as though he can see exactly how few options I have left and feels sorry for me. A look I've seen plenty of times before.
Suddenly, I’m struck with a memory that knocks the air from my lungs.
Apitch-black night. Driving rain and the suffocating smell of smoke.
Frantically dialing Luca’s number as I stare in horror at the man lurking outside my door, the flames licking up the side of my Dad’s workshop, knowing Luca’s the only person who can help me.
Then the gut-wrenching pain, the strangled cry that escaped my throat as my call got sent to voicemail, and the reality of how alone I was really sank in.
He wasn’t coming.
Nobody was.
Lifting my chin defiantly, I stare back at Tony, not wanting him to report back to his boss what a basket case I am. I cross my arms and slide my shaking hands under my armpits, aiming for stubbornness instead of slightly terrified.
“Luca Calvano is the last person I’d rely on for anything.”