Chapter Thirty-Six
Cal
Gio’s on the ground alone as I hear but don’t see the car in the alley peel out.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I tuck the gun away again.
I recall the sedan idling in front of the café.
The bald man in the passenger seat smiling at me like we share a joke and the tilt of his chin that I missed before.
He tipped his chin up, but not at me, past me.
To the back. Because that’s where Max was.
“Max.” Her name is an alarm as I’m already moving to Gio on the ground, his breath stuttering, blood hot through his fingers pressed against a spot in the middle of his chest. I drop to my knees, press against his hand. “Stay with me.”
But my head is on a swivel, scouring the space in the same breath.
Fresh tire arcs.
Her shoes in the road.
Black heels just lying on the asphalt.
They didn’t come to kill a boss.
Too loud.
Too final.
They came to take what would hurt more.
“They came for her,” Gio sputters. “They were waiting when we came out here, they knew we’d go out the back and you’d stay and—”
He coughs and I shake my head, keeping pressure on the entry wound while pulling my phone from my pocket. I hold it tightly and press Nico’s contact.
He answers, but I talk over him. “Lock the grid. Plates, cameras, alleys, my location.” My voice is calm enough to elicit nothing but silence from Nico. I look at Gio. “This isn’t your fault,” I tell Gio.
“What isn’t whose fault? What are you talking about? You fucking sound like Dad.” Nico’s voice rings through the phone, now on speaker sitting beside Gio’s body as I use both hands to try to stave off the bleeding.
He sounds hurried, like he’s already running and I can hear him barking orders around the phone, around his stupid joke that I ignore.
“They took Max. They shot up the café on 5th and took Max. They hit Gio. I need a car pulled around and the doc and—”
“Where the fuck is Rudi?”
“He’s off—I let him have a day off—God damn it, Nico, stop asking questions and just do what I’m telling you to do for once in your fucking life,” I lose my cool and I know I do, but I can’t rein it in.
“Get me a car, get me the doc, get me a couple guys out here to help the café clean up. I want to see everyone as soon as Gio is with the doc.”
“See everyone… like…”
“Nico, God damn it.”
“Mick is two blocks away; he’s already on the way. I’m in the car; I’ll be there in five. We’ll find her, Cal.” His voice is calm but anger bleeds from it, just like the red seeping through my fingers. “We’ll find her. Who took her?”
Gio’s breathing is shallow, but his eyes are open and he’s tracking my words.
“The Russians.”
My eyes travel back to the shoes in the street, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
I should have never brought her here.
I should never have gone to Ellison to begin with.
I shouldn’t have gone to that bar in Abbott.
I shouldn’t have put her on that jet, shouldn’t have told her anything.
I should have walked away like I did years ago and let her live her life.
I should have let her be safe.
Fuck.