Bax gives a tight smile. “Anything Villiers said to you was designed to manipulate, Gina. But we’ll have that conversation, like I said.” It’s interesting to me to see how close he and Angelo are now, moving in synchronicity. Once Luca and I go on the run—once I persuade him, because I will, after today’s bullshit—I wonder how much closerwe’llend up.
It’s already scary, sometimes, how well we know each other. How easily we can read each other.
Garcia walks away from us all to another corner of the room, this one further away.
“How did you know to come?” I ask Angelo in a low voice.
“Boss had a protocol in place,” he replies quietly. “If he ever missed a weekly contact, I was to come straight back. Got into town early this morning.”
“And just happened to rock up to the hospital at the same time as the attack? Maybe there really is a God.”
Angelo grins. “I can’t speak to that. But as for why we’re here, now—well, you can pat your own back. Vitali and Carlucci both got your alarm, and I was with them when it came in. Vitali wanted Bax and me in a less visible area, so he sent us down the tunnel. Good thing, too. The guards there were dead when we arrived, and those Irish fucks were blowing open the doors with one of their war toys.”
I feel a stab of guilt. More Morellis sacrificed—and not even just for Luca. Forme.
This is all my fault.
None of us speak again until the door opens a few minutes later, and Darla sticks her head into the room. “Um, there’s more of you,” she whispers, and then pushes through two more figures.
The first is Nick Fontana, who looks warily at Frank and Garcia, then stops dead when he sees Angelo. They greet each other warmly while the woman following Nick into the room looks around, her hand on the gun at her waist.
Several pairs of eyes swivel back to her, questioning. “This is Sophia,” Nick introduces her, once he and Angelo are done shaking vigorous hands and slapping shoulders. “She’s, uh, a friend of the Family.”
“A friend of the Family?” Frank asks, bewildered. Bless him, he’s a little more traditional than some of the other Morellis.
“A friend of the Family,” Nick repeats firmly. Apparently Al Vollero hasn’t told Frank about his granddaughter Sophia’s desire to join the Family. He’s only spilled about the things he was sure would get Frank onside, flare his temper against Nick.
The old snake.
Sophia’s had a haircut since last time I saw her. Gone is the silky cloud of raven-black hair. The new pixie cut really suits her, though, making her cheekbones stand out. She nods at Frank, who can’t help returning it. Her dark eyes flash over to Garcia and size her up.
Garcia’s mouth opens, and nothing comes out.
“Hi,” Sophia says.
“Hi,” Garcia says back after a moment, a slight flush staining across her nose and cheeks. “Uh. I mean—” She breaks off, almost as bewildered as Frank.
And speaking of Frank: “I don’t want this asshole anywhere near me,” he growls, glaring at Nick.
“Room’s too crowded, anyway,” Nick says. “I just wanted to check in. Messina, maybe we could have a word?”
“Messina stays right here,” Garcia snaps. “He doesn’t leave my sight.”
“I’llstay right here,” Bax suggests, before the tension can ratchet up too high. “You know he’s not going to leave town without me, right, Gina?”
“It’sDetective Garcia, asshole. And neither of you are going anywhere. End of story.”
Bax and Angelo exchange looks. “Why don’t we have that conversation now, Gina?” Bax suggests with a smile, turning back to the detective. “You can hear an exciting tale of adventure while Angelo takes a quick walk. He’ll be back, I promise.”
There’s not much Garcia can do to stop Angelo Messina, and she seems to know that. When Darla motions to me as well, and I slip out with Nick and Angelo, Garcia stays quiet. Her eyes stray again to Sophia Vicente, and Sophia gives a decidedly flirty smirk back.That’ssomething Garcia should nip in the bud, I think, unless she wants to end up like the example right under her nose,formerSpecial Agent Baxter Flynn.
Angelo and Nick fall into a code-worded confab behind Darla and me, and Darla fills me in while we walk. “I wanted to let you know right away that your husband is just fine. He’s conscious and he’s asking for you. And—well, for Mr. Fontana, too.”
I glance over my shoulder at Nick, where he’s walking a few steps behind with Angelo. He looks…almost anxious.
“Okay,” I say, and Darla motions us to follow her down a new corridor. Wherever Luca’s being kept post-checkup, it’s not in this ward. It’s not even in the private wing, I discover, as Darla stops in front of a plain door. There are multiple beds in there, I can see through the glass pane in the door, although only one has a curtain pulled around it and the others are empty. My heart jumps as I think of Luca there, just beyond that pale green curtain.
“Thank you,” I tell Darla sincerely. She smiles. I look to Nick and Angelo, a question in my raised eyebrows.
