Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
I can’t keep the grin from spreading across my face. “About time you woke up.”
Al turns his face toward Sophie, seeing her for the first time. “Thank you,” he says, as if he understands what she’s doing. Maybe he does.
“She’s giving you an energy healing.”
“Woke me up. It was like she opened the curtains and let in the light.”
“No kidding,” I grin even wider.
Sophie smiles back at me with so much love in her gaze that it nearly drops me to my knees.
I wink at her and pull out my phone. “Lemme call Carmen, she’s pretty shaken up.”
Al’s eyes drift closed as I make the call and deliver the good news.
When I hang up, Al chokes, “Who...did it?”
I look around the room with meaning because there’s no telling if the Feds have wired this room already, and Al catches on and closes his eyes, understanding we can’t talk.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Sophie says tactfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. When I see it’s Ned, I flick an eyebrow at Al and show him the screen. I open the message file and glance at the attached photo.
Sonofabitch.
An icy flame scorches me from the inside out. It’s a grainy photo–the kind taken off a security camera, but it shows Sammy sitting across the table from the Matrangas in their restaurant.
My throat tightens. I turn the phone around to show Al. His upper lip curls.
Even though I strongly suspected Sammy, seeing proof of his betrayal sets off a geyser of rage. Fifteen years I ran that club with Sammy, and sure, we haven’t been as close lately, but to sell us out like this…
“I’ll take care of it,” I say.
Al’s awake, he’s out of his coma, but he’s in no condition to handle this. He gives a single nod of approval.
Sophie comes back in, and I tuck the phone away. I don’t want any of this to touch her.
Ever.
“Take Carlo,” Al says, and I nod. He gives Sophie a weak smile. “Thank you, Sophie. You brought me back.”
She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re with us again.”
Al catches her hand and examines the engagement ring I was proud to see back on her finger this morning. “What’s this?”
Sophie shrugs, a smile twisting her lips. “I’m back in the Family. And you’re going to be an uncle.”
“No shit,” Al says softly, his eyes drifting closed again.
“We’ll let you rest,” she says softly.
“I’ll be back when it’s done,” I tell him.
We walk out, and Sophie slips her hand in mine. “I don’t want to know what that was about–obviously. But I just want to say that I hope you kick some serious ass.”
I cup her nape and pull her toward me to kiss her forehead. “Thank you, bella.”
Joey
I text Carlo, Sammy, Pauly and Bobby to meet me at the parking garage at midnight. They know what that means. To come armed. Ready for battle.
I don’t involve anyone else.
“What’s the score?” Carlo asks. His deadly battle mask is on.
Sammy looks wary, like he knows it’s a trap. He’s right, of course.
Bobby and Pauly are all business, checking weapons, expressions blank.
“We’re going in heavy on the Matranga’s at their restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen. We’ll wait until after close. I don’t want any collateral damage.”
Ned came through for me, providing me with the routine schedule for the restaurant and giving me the location of the security cameras on the street and in the building. I now know what time they close, when their employees leave, and that the heavies in the organization drink there after hours most nights.
Carlo considers. “Will they be there? The right ones, I mean.”
“Yes,” I say shortly.
Sammy darts a glance at me, but I ignore it.
“Carlo rides with me. Sammy, you drive Pauly and Bobby. Park away from the building. Wait for my go.”
“You got it, Boss,” Pauly says.
Considering he’s old enough to be my dad and has been in the organization longer than I have, I’m gratified by his respect.
Bobby and Carlo bow their heads. Sammy looks away.
Fucker.
When Carlo gets in my car, he says, “Why is Sammy here? I don’t trust that stronzo.”
“He’s here to die.”
Carlo goes silent. Then he slowly nods, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Please let me do it.”
“No.” I don’t take my eyes off the road. “He’s mine.”
“Of course. You’re the boss,” Carlo says.
I drive to Hell’s Kitchen and find a parking spot. Then we sit and wait. At 1:15 a.m., I give the go-ahead. “You go first,” I tell Carlo. “Take out the security cameras in front of the drug store and the pawn shop. Then I need you to get the three in the restaurant–one in each of the far corners, one on the entry wall.”
Carlo’s upper lip curls as he screws a silencer on the muzzle of his gun. I know he’d rather be shooting heads than cameras, but he nods. “Done.”