Chapter Sixty-Five
LUCA
It takes us several hours to go through the files. Finch got bored fast, so eventually, I took the laptop up to the study and let Finch wander in and out of the secret door to the library at will while I pored over the lists. But when I come across one name buried deep in the documents, I slam a fist down hard on the desk, making him jump where he’s laid himself out on the sofa across the room.
“What is it?” he demands, coming back to the desk to look over my shoulder.
I jab a finger at one particular name.
“Well, shit,” Finch breathes.
“That’s one way to put it.”
Finch pulls out his phone, but I grab his hand before he can call the person I know he was going to call—his sister. “No,” I say gently.
“But Tara needs to know.”
“Yes, but we can’t trust this information to a phone conversation.”
Finch puts his phone down on the desk, his eyes intense, and leans over me. “She’s my fuckingsister, Luca. I’m not going to leave her there like a sitting duck—”
I stand, pulling him into my arms. “Of course not. She’s my sister too, you know. So we’ll go ourselves, together, right now. Drop in unannounced. Explain the situation to her and…” I know what I’d do if it were one of my own, a rat in my own ranks. But Tara’s Family is her own to control. “And let her take care of it,” I finish. “It’s her problem to manage.”
Finch’s eyes are hard and green when he tells me, “Well, if she doesn’t kill the fucker,Iwill.”
* * *
When I toldFinch we’d go together, I meant it. Our time in Italy together reminded me about the things I love most about this business: the adrenaline; the big-risk, big-reward opportunities; working in the shadows as an effective partnership, no one else involved.
We take one of the bullet-resistant town cars and I drive us myself, having told only Nick Fontana and Teo Vitali where I’m going. No bodyguards. No forewarning. And when we get a few streets out from Hillview House, our way is blocked by a large van—one of the checkpoints set up by the Donovans.
My window is approached by a man I recognize from guard duty at Hillview, and I crack the dark window enough so that he can see my face.
“Fuck me,” he says in surprise.
“Married,” I tell him. It takes him a second to get the joke, and then he just gives a terrified smile. “I want an escort into Hillview, but keep it quiet. Need-to-know only. Understand?”
He gives a hasty nod, and then motions another guard over, speaking into his ear. Things move quickly after that, and within minutes we’re pulling into the underground garage beneath Hillview House.
Conor O’Hara comes down to meet us, wariness in his eyes despite the width of his smile. “Well, this is a surprise.” I give a cool nod. Finch says nothing, just slams his car door shut. He can’t quite bring himself to look at O’Hara, whose eyebrows inch up. “You’re here to see Ms. Donovan, I take it?”
“Correct,” I tell him.
He pauses, then says, “I’ll have to ask you to hand over any weapons.”
“Not a chance.”
“Don Morelli,” O’Hara says, looking me straight in the eye, “I know you’re a friend to the Donovans. But this visit is unexpected, and frankly, neither you nor your husband look all that friendly today. So I’m not letting you in to see Ms. Donovan without surrendering your weapons.”
For all O’Hara’s geniality, he doesn’t mess around when it comes to protecting his Boss. I pull out my Sig Sauer, ignoring Finch’s sharp, “Luca,” and hand it over.
I turn back to Finch, looking at him over the roof of the car, and he holds my eyes for a moment before rolling his own. “Fine,” he says. “Better fucking take mine, too.” He stalks over to O’Hara and hands over his gun. O’Hara’s twitching brows are the only sign of surprise that Finch was armed as well.
People reallydounderestimate my baby bird.
“Well?” I ask, once O’Hara has patted us down.
He looks us both in the face, his eyes still troubled, and then gives a nod. “Follow me.”
