Chapter 10
Valentina
I stepped back into the living room and found that Enzo was no longer seated.
Instead, he was standing at the window where the curtains were closed, hiding us from the outside world.
Right now, he was looking through the curtains, pistol gripped in his hand as he seemed to be checking our surroundings.
“You might not give a damn about your own life, but you are useless to me dead,” I said. “I can do nothing with a dead bodyguard.”
“Attack dog, remember?”
Oh, I hated that he was bringing up that ill-advised kiss from earlier this morning. This made me despise him so much more than his cruelty. I could accept malice, but mockery just pissed me off royally.
I marched up to him. “Very well, have it your way. What good is a dead attack dog?”
“Your chauffeur just arrived,” Enzo said. “He’s fine.”
“Good for him,” I snapped. “Are you listening?”
Enzo turned to look at me, our eyes meeting in a battle. “Yeah, I’m useless dead. I heard you.”
My gaze didn’t waver, though inside was a different story.
I wanted to ask him if not caring about his life had been male bravado or the genuine truth.
Because I couldn’t stand him not caring whether he lived or died.
It killed me to know that this world had made him so indifferent to his own life.
Meanwhile, the thought of losing him was pushing me to the brink emotionally.
Unraveling felt imminent, which was why I had to get a handle on my inner turmoil.
If I fell apart now, I wouldn’t be able to protect my family from everything that threatened to destroy us.
I crossed my arms, still glaring. “That means if you’re determined to protect me like you say, then you must take your life seriously.”
To my utter surprise Enzo granted me a lazy smile then. The slow, languid sort of a hunter with its prey.
As a Romano, I refused to be prey. As his fiancée, well, that was exactly what I desired to be. My entire body thrummed with the idea of being at his mercy.
“When you’re right, you’re right,” he said. “Point, Valentina.”
“I’m always at least one point ahead of you in this game, Enzo,” I said. “Don’t ever forget that.”
He paused. “You think that bomb was meant for me?”
“Could have been a coincidence,” I said. “It’s not exactly an obscure location. And there are all kinds of nutjobs in this city. Bank robbers, terrorists, disgruntled employees. We should check the news.”
We both ended the staring contest at the same time, with me stepping away to turn the TV on, while he went back to looking out the window.
I found the local news and sat down on the sofa in front of the big screen TV.
The slick-haired news anchor was talking about the bank bombing, his tone calm and even as he gave a rundown of the story.
“Our top story this afternoon. The U.S. National Bank was targeted with a bombing earlier today. Police do not believe that there are any more bombs that have been placed at this time, but the suspect or suspects are still very much at large. Here’s a look at a press conference with the police commissioner that ended just moments ago. ”
The police commissioner appeared onscreen, her expression somber. “That’s correct, no group has taken responsibility, but someone reported seeing a suspicious package outside the bank moments before the bomb went off.”
Reporters shouted a dozen questions at the commissioner. “Commissioner Garcia, do you have any information on the bomb specifically?”
The commissioner nodded. “Rumors have been flying so we want to clear that up. Preliminary investigations from the bomb squad show that this was a homemade device. A pressure cooker bomb.”
“Any casualties?” a reported yelled.
“Minor injuries reported with one person taken to hospital and then discharged,” the commissioner responded.
More reporters shouted. “Do you want to take on the speculation saying that this bombing was more of a message than intended to take lives?”
“We don’t want to speculate,” Commissioner Garcia said firmly.
“People could have been very seriously injured or worse. This type of device is extremely dangerous regardless of intent. For someone to make something like this. We are going to pursue this until we find who is responsible and hold them accountable. No one has the right to target New Yorkers in this way.”
Enzo sank down onto the couch next to me, then handed his cell phone over to me. “I just got a text. From a number I don’t recognize.”
Eyes widening, I read the message: Car fires and a bombing. What a bad day you must be having. Send my regards to the rest of the De Lucas.
“Is this a threat?” I demanded.
“Or a prank,” he said.
“Who would joke like this?” I asked in disgust.
“Prank or threat, I think it’s pretty fucking clear that your family is retaliating,” Enzo said.
“I didn’t order any of this. Not the attack on your father’s dealership and certainly not a bank bombing,” I insisted sharply.
“Then somebody in your family has gone fucking rogue.” Enzo placed his pistol down on the coffee table. “It’s someone who knows about your father getting shot. Someone who blames my family for it. There can’t be too many people who fit that description.”
“There’s my guards.” I paused. “Frankie and my mother. But—”
“Then it’s one of them,” Enzo interrupted.
“You haven’t seen my mother. She’s in no state to orchestrate something like this,” I said firmly.
“She might be a little scary, but I promise you, right now all she’s thinking about is nursing my father back to health.
She isn’t going to waste time sending threats and messages while she can be taking care of him. ”
“Then it’s your cousin Frankie,” Enzo said bluntly.
I didn’t want to make an accusation against my cousin. At least, not without concrete information.
My mind started to spin. I was in charge.
I represented the family. One false move and every mafioso in New York would smell blood in the water.
They’d act accordingly, and instead of warring with one family, I’d be warring with a hundred different factions that sensed I was weakened without my father.
Still, even though I couldn’t make accusations, there was so much suspicion surrounding my cousin.
Not only was he the family lawyer, it had been obvious how much he craved power.
Since he was a lesser rank than me, Frankie could easily resort to underhanded yet vicious tactics.
Tightening the noose from his place in the shadows instead of fighting out in the open.
“We have to be careful,” I said, thinking through as many angles as possible. “First we suspect he’s the mole, then my father’s shooter, now this?”
“It fits.”
“Does it?” I asked. “If he’s the mole and the shooter then that means he wants my father out of the way. If he’s trying to kill my dad, why would be then go after your family in retaliation for the shooting? That’s two opposing motives.”
Enzo exhaled in frustration. “Then we’re back to square-one. No real suspect.”
I shook my head, holding up his cell phone. “We’ve got new evidence. A phone number could lead us to whoever’s responsible for today’s attacks at least.”
“If they’re smart then it’s probably from a burner phone, but it’s worth a shot,” he said, nodding.
The news story on TV changed then, and there was video of a sign that read De Luca Car Dealership.
“Oh my—they’re talking about your family on the news,” I said in shock.
“Dammit, they got the story,” he muttered. Enzo’s phone started ringing and he took it from me to quickly answer. “Yeah, I’m watching the fucking news right now, Dad.”
As he got up to speak to his father, I refocused on the TV. There was very little new information, but from the breathless way the reporter was talking about it, clearly the local press thought it was juicy enough to talk about despite bigger headlines.
After several minutes watching the news while Enzo spoke in rough tones to his father, he resumed his seat beside me.
“My father is fucking pissed,” Enzo said.
“I can imagine. This kind of media attention is never good,” I said, and then added, “Especially for people like us.”
While my family didn’t shun the media, we made sure we had them on our side to launder our image.
If we appeared in local press, it was to give the impression that we were wealthy philanthropists.
Nobody would ask where the money came from if we were giving it away.
But unwanted media attention was totally different.
There was no controlling it, which meant the consequences could be unpredictable.
Enzo’s father risked everything—from the cops focusing on him to rival criminals seeing a weakness to exploit.
“We wanted to reopen the dealership ASAP but that’s a big fucking risk with this level of scrutiny,” Enzo said, sounding frustrated. “We have to wait for this to die down.”
“Your dealership could reopen that quickly?” I asked.
He nodded. “We’ve got inventory ready to go.”
“Let me guess. You use the cars for smuggling and money laundering,” I said.
He gave a wry smile. “Yeah, it’s a front. We make it look like a legitimate business, but the dealership is in kind of a gray area.”
“So, it’s bringing in legitimate money despite its other purpose,” I said, thinking out loud. “Does your family have many legitimate businesses?”
“Some of our businesses are legit, but most aren’t,” he admitted.
While my family was in the hospitality business as a front, Enzo’s family had a massive transport empire in New York—new and used car dealerships, trucking, tow companies, shipping.
Not only did transport put up a legitimate front for the family, it also helped them move their illicit products while they could have tentacles in every part of New York state.
That was what had given them an edge over us lately.
They were quite literally everywhere in New York and New Jersey.
“We’re fifty-fifty,” I told him. “About half of our businesses are legit while the other half aren’t.”