I can’t even tell these days.
I wonder how Luca can stand it sometimes—figuring out who he can trust and who he can’t. There’s no one trustworthy as far as I can tell. For all I know, we’re heading into a hail of bullets in a soundproofed room, and no one will ever know what happens to our bodies.
I give a shiver, and Luca glances at me and puts his arm around me to give me a side hug. “All good, baby bird,” he murmurs into my hair, and then he steps back into alert position.
There’s no point worrying about another assassination attempt down here, because I do trust Luca to keep me safe. My gut is telling me this is legit, if my gut even means anything. Besides, they let Luca keep his gun on the way down. I guess that’s one good thing. But then, Luca is just as lethal without it, as I’ve discovered over the last few weeks. Snapping necks, drowning…no, he doesn’t need a gun to kill.
At least I know I can trust Luca.
Family.Familyare the ones I’ll put my faith in. Luca and Brother Frank and Sister Cee, my baby sister-slash-fake-niece…
And Tara. The only blood relative I’d even think of breaking bread with these days, although maybe Róisín would share a communion wafer.
I give a nervous bray of laughter. The Capo starts, then shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. Luca gives me an inquiring glance, but the elevator has hit the floor and the doors slide open.
We’re greeted by a room of mobsters, but no bullets.
Doin’ fine so far.
Sonny comes forward dressed in a bathrobe, like he pulled himself away from his morningtoilettejust to make sure we were taken care of. “Gentlemen,” he says with a nod.
“No problems?” Luca asks, nodding back.
“None at all, although our gondolier seems less inclined to sing while he’s in my care. But maybe you can get a tune out of him.”
I’ll say this for Las Vegas: it hasn’t met a cliché it doesn’t embrace, and Sonny is just the same.
“Where is he?” Luca asks, all business. He doesn’t have any interest in crowing, I’ve noticed. He keeps things clean. Simple.
“Through there,” Sonny says, thumbing over his shoulder at a metal door with one small window in it. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Grazie,” Luca says, offering his hand.
I wander over to the door and look through the window. Our would-be assassin is tied to a chair which is bolted to the ground. I think the ropes must be the only thing keeping him upright, because from where I’m standing, he looks unconscious or close to it. As I watch, a long, thin, red-tinged line of spit escapes his mouth and splats onto the floor to join a small puddle.
“Real good care you took of him,” I say sarcastically to the guard standing by the door. He’s heavy-set and stupid-looking, and he doesn’t look at me as he smirks. I turn to walk away, but then spin and give him a jab right in the solar plexus, one of the strikes Luca has made me learn for self-defense.
Swearing, the guy clutches his middle, more shocked than hurt.
“Not so funny when it’s you, huh?” I ask him.
Every other man in the room has gone into high alert, but to my surprise, no one pulls a gun on me.
“Excuse my husband,” Luca says to the room at large. “He’s not usually a violent man.”
“Of course, of course,” Sonny says as the elevator doors open again. The rest of the men relax.
So I’m allowed to bully Sonny’s men. Husband of East Coast Boss outranks them.
Good to know.
“Open up,” Luca says, taking off his jacket. He gives me aSee?stare as he hangs it on the back of a chair. I’m always accusing him of not being careful with his clothes when he’s out on the job. “I’d like a private word with our guest.”
I expected a lot morenoisefrom Luca’s interrogations, I have to say. There’s the occasional wail, a lot of sobbing and begging, and it’s really, really not fun to sit and listen to it. But there’s much less screaming than I expected.
I join in on a poker game the rest of the soldiers are having around a small card table in the corner, and burn through three grand before Luca’s done. He comes out looking thoughtful.
“Well?” I ask, and he motions me away from the table.
