Just like I thought, Finch is standing at the window, shaking the bars. “Why the fuck are bars even on windows this high?” he hollers at me.
“I asked Frank to put them on.”
“Why?”
I lean against the door jamb, rubbing sleep out of my eye. “Because I knowyou, angel, just like you think you know me. Oh, I know all about you. Your depressive episodes, the PTSD, the suicide attempts—you think I’d leave you an easy option out the window? No way. You’re stuck with me till you get old and gray. But on the plus side, I’m sworn to protect you. That life with me? I guarantee it’ll be a long one.”
Finch just lays himself out on the bed again and goes back to sleep. I spend the whole night on the sofa. If he wants to try the front door, he’ll have to go past me, and I’m a light sleeper.
But nothing disturbs me in the night, and the next day I tell him Celia’s coming around to see him. He seems to like her, at least, and it does seem to lift the deep black mood to dark gray. “You’ll also meet your new bodyguard,” I throw out casually. But he doesn’t seem to care. I have work to get back to, thanks to the unrest starting up again in the city, but I wait around until Mikey gets there.
“I know you,” Finch says to him. Finch hasn’t showered; he slept in until ten, so I had to pull him out of bed to introduce him formally to Mikey.
“Yeah, we met,” Mikey says, offering a hand.
Finch just looks at it. “How many guys have you killed with that hand?” he asks, but he says it without any tone in his voice.
Mikey grins and drops his hand with a shrug. “I lost count,” is all he says.
“Behave yourself,” I tell Finch, and then I give the door keys to Mikey. “He doesn’t leave today. Celia’s coming around. She’ll cheer him up.”
“I’m right here,” he says, scowling. “Don’t talk about me like I’m some kid.”
“Stop acting like it and I will,” I tell him. I look at Mikey again. “You hear me? Even with Celia, he doesn’t go out. Not today.”
“What about the fucking chintz curtains?” Finch asks.
A horn sounds off in the street; it’s Frank. Thank God. I’ve had enough of Finch and his bitching for now. I turn my back and walk out without another word. Mikey shakes his head and makes like part of the wallpaper, like he doesn’t approve of the way I’m treating my new husband. But just for today I need Finch to stay there, to behave, to sit it out so I can get the lay of the land.
Two weeks I’ve been out of New York. Two weeks is a long time in our business. Allegiances shift, money moves, people disappear. And my head is still stuffed up with Finch, like cotton balls.
I just need a day to clear my head and get the position of all those chess pieces set up in my mind again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LUCA
“How was the honeymoon?” Frank asks, waggling his eyebrows.
“What’s the situation with Fuscone?” I counter. He knows better than to talk personal when we’re out on business.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” he grouses, and then he gives me the rundown.
Inter-family wars have stirred up again and with them, old cracks within the Morelli family. Fuscone’s never been happy that he wasn’t made Underboss rather than Paul Marino, and he’s never been shy about saying it, either. And on top of that, a long-standing feud over territory boundaries has stirred up again between the Morellis and the Clemenzas. Fuscone has as many ties to the Clemenza Family as he does to the Morellis. If the Morelli Family falls, Fuscone still stands to gain.
For now, though, he seems to be playing on Tino’s side. For now.
It’s all very complex and completely petty at the same time.
“Anyhow, Tino wants to see you,” Frank finishes, wheeling the car around the corner.
“When?”
“Now.”
I give my brother a sharp look. This is news he should have told me sooner.
Frank stands on the brakes and we come to a stop an inch away from the car in front. He’s a shitty driver, which is why I usually prefer Mikey to take the wheel. But needs must. I couldn’t get hold of my first choice of bodyguard for Finch—not yet—and I figured Mikey might be a good fit. He’s good-natured, but he can put his foot down when he needs to.
