“More cognac. You deserve it. We can toast to our happiness.”
And I’d clinked my glass against his and drunk it. I’d never tasted cognac before last night, but I’d felt so smooth sitting there in my study with Don Augustino Morelli, smoking cigars, drinking that amber liquid, hearing this big bombshell revelation…
I drank the second cognac Finch gave me in the kitchen, and I remember nothing after that.
Marco is still thundering around the townhouse, looking in all the rooms three times, four times over, under beds, in closets.
I lean against the kitchen island, staring at the floor, trying to get my useless brain to work. And then I see my phone on the kitchen floor, screen cracked. But it still lights up under my fingers, and I send up a grateful thanks to Mother Mary.
* * *
Outside,just as Frank had said, the night guards are lying piled up against each other, snoring their heads off. They look like a couple of guys who had had a big night and decided to sleep it off the doorway.
Fury rises up in me as I contemplate them. I draw back my foot and kick one of them hard in the gut. He wakes, wheezing and spluttering, and stares up at me with an injured expression, as thoughIwere the one at fault.
“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?” I ask him calmly.
Frank is hovering around on the doorstep, making distressed noises, but doesn’t intervene. I pull back to kick the guard again, but he scrambles to his feet unsteadily, almost toppling over the balustrade on the stairs that lead up to the front door.
“If anything has happened to Finch, I’ll rip out your fucking heart and make you eat it.”
He goes white. “I swear to God, Mr. D’Amato, we—wewerewatching—I don’t know what happened—”
“Celia ain’t heard from him,” Frank said, checking a text that pings through.
“Your wife is a liar, Frank.”
Frank goes just as pale as the guard, who’s shaking his dozy friend awake now. Celia’s also still giving Finch drugs, apparently, but I don’t say that. I don’t want the guards to know I’ve been caught out as well, doped by my own husband. Let them stay ignorant for now.
Marco pushes past Frank to give his report. “I’ve checked the whole house, Mr. D’Amato,” he says. “Everywhere. He’s not here.”
Things are starting to become clearer, myheadis starting to become clearer, but then my phone begins to vibrate. I grab it up hopefully, but it’s not Finch calling—and how could he, of course, since he doesn’t have a phone, thanks to me.
I can’t beat myself up about that mistake right now, though, because Angelo’s calling. Tino’s bodyguard. It’s too early in the morning for any kind of social call, and besides, I’ve never had any social interaction with Angelo Messina. He’s all business, all the time, just like me. I answer, but before he even gets it out, I know what’s coming.
“D’Amato, listen up,” he says, no time for pleasantries. “Fuscone’s planning an attack. Get to Tino’s right now with all the backup you can. Only bring the men you trust—no one loyal to Fuscone. Understand?”
“I understand.” I end the call, and look at Frank, who’s on tenterhooks. “It’s time.” I’ve been expecting this for so long I couldn’t really call it a surprise. In fact, I’ve been looking forward to it.
But Finch is missing.
Tino has given me a direct order to come to him, and comenow, and if I don’t, it’s like declaring my allegiance to Fuscone—or worse. The Family will think I just waited it out. I’ll be branded a coward or a vulture if I don’t go, and go now.
But Finch ismissing.
“You three,” I snap at the guards and Marco. “Round up my crew, except for Joey Fuscone, and if you do see him, fucking kill him. I’m serious. And contact the crews on the Lower East Side too, and anyone else you know who hates Sam Fuscone. Then get the fuck over to Tino’s. There’s an attack coming—Fuscone and his allies.”
“What about me, Georgie?” Frank asks. “And…what about you?”
“You and I? We have a little bird to find.”
“But—” Frank starts, and then stops when he sees my face. I know what he’s thinking. What they’reallthinking as they look at me, worried and confused and torn.
But I made a vow to Finch that I would protect him, and I won’t break that vow.
“Georgie,” Frank mutters, and pulls me back inside the house. He knows better than to question my orders in front of anyone else. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“It was Finch who drugged me last night, and the guards.”
