“I made vows to this Family, and I’ll keep them. You gave me leave of absence to sort out Bax’s problem, but if you need me—”
“No.” Of course I fucking need him. But I still remember what he told me when he left: that it was time for me to take full control of the Family, to prove my power to the world. He was right to leave me when he did, and coming back—especially now, when I am at my most vulnerable—will only weaken my position further, get our enemies talking about how I need to be shored up. “Have you found the man you’re looking for yet? This magic man who can clear Flynn’s name?”
“We’re close. But no; not yet.”
I wave my hand. “Then get back out there and do what you need to do. The work you’ve done for me out West has been invaluable, and there could be more to come. When the Clemenzas fall, and things destabilize, I don’t need the West Coasters wondering if they can snatch a piece of the pie.”
Angelo says nothing. I can see him struggling, his own wishes versus his duty to the Family. Tino Morelli ground that commitment into his soul from the time he was a child. This visit back to New York has cost Angelo dearly, though not, I think, in the way he expected.
But you can’t step into the same stream twice. Angelo has changed. So has the Family.
“I used to wonder why Tino picked me in those last moments,” I tell him, “when you were the obvious choice to lead the Morellis. And you’ve never once made me feel anything but supported, never made me feel like I was given something that should have been yours. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”
“You don’t have to—”
I plow on. “But now, I think I know why Tino made that choice. Maybe what he wanted—what he couldn’t say—was that he wanted you to havechoices. To go out and live your life on your own terms. So I would be contradicting his wishes if I dragged you back here and chained you to me. Who am I to disagree with the old man?”
Angelo blinks rapidly and looks down, his hands massaging each other again. “I’d like to…believe that. I’d like to think that Tino…might have seen, at last, that…” He clears his throat and looks up. “Thank you, Don Morelli. And now, I think I’d better get going. Bax might need rescuing. Often does.”
“Thank you for coming. For saving our collective asses.”
“You’re welcome. And I’ll be back again, if you need me.” He stands over me and kisses me on both cheeks, and then adds in Italian, his eyes twinkling: “But please, try to take better care of yourself, Luciano.”
I don’t think he’s ever called me by my first name before.
He gives me one last, warm smile, and then he’s gone. I wait alone for a few minutes, thinking through our conversation, and then I raise my voice. “Baby bird? Can you send Fontana in?”
Finch’s head pops around the door. “Um, so Nick had to go,” he says nervously, and then comes over to me. “Don’t be mad at him. He got a lead on where the IFF might be holed up downtown. Had to go then and there if he was going to catch them.”
I take that in. “Then he made the right call,” I concede. “If he can clean out the dregs, make New York safer…” I trail off as an unwelcome face appears at the window in the door.
“Make New York safer, Mr. D’Amato?” Detective Garcia repeats coldly as she comes in. “That’smyjob. And to do that, I have a few questions for you.”
“I imagine you do, detective,” I say, smiling. “Finch, could you give us a moment?”
But he walks very slowly to the door, and I’d bet my entire empire that he’s listening outside it as Garcia starts to grill me.
Chapter Twenty-One
LUCA
“So you’re saying you know nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing—”
“Detective,” I say, with exaggerated politeness, “as you’re well aware yourself, Iwasunconscious for most of the proceedings.”
Garcia is sitting very close to me. Each question she’s asked has been rapid-fire, demanding, pressing. And I’ve given her nothing.
She taps out a staccato beat on my nightstand with her fingernail. “I’ll pull your husband in for questioning.”
“You can try. But he’ll have our lawyer with him. I could have Bianchi here myself, if I said the word. If that’s what you really want?”
I’m enjoying the back-and-forth enough that I’m disappointed when she sighs, leans in even closer, and gets down to business. “I’ve had a long talk with Baxter Flynn.”
“I see.”
“I found his story…unconvincing.”
I say nothing, but lift an eyebrow. Despite her claims about Flynn, she seems troubled. Obviously she must believesomeof it. After a moment, she continues, seemingly changing the subject. “Before we went down below, you made some comment about me not getting the promotion I wanted.”
