“New guys. I got three of them working together, and—”
“I won’t have fucking trainees guarding my husband.” My temper was rising again.
“They’re not trainees. They’re good guys, well trained. They need some time in the field is all.” At my silence, he sighed, “I’ll go myself as well. Keep an eye on things.”
I mulled that over. “No,” I said at last. “If you really think they’re ready, then I trust your judgment.”
His eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “Okay, then. Thanks, Boss.”
* * *
I paida visit myself to Finch that night at Kismet Nightclub. I dropped by once or twice a week normally, but Finch always liked to know when I was coming so he could alert staff, have my favorite drink waiting for me. But this night, he didn’t know I was coming.
Every time I’d been there, I’d always wondered if he’d made sure to have extra security in place, and now what Vitali had said to me struck a nerve. I wanted to know exactly how safe—or unsafe—my husband actually was. I also wanted to know if I really could trust Vitali’s judgment or not.
So I arrived alone and unannounced, rather than pulling up, chauffeured, in one of the town cars like I usually did. I came from around the corner of the block on foot and scared the hell out of Dino, the bouncer who was on that night, by walking up behind him.
Once he’d put his tough-guy attitude back in place, Dino raised his wrist to his mouth, about to alert security to my presence, but I put my hand over the microphone in his sleeve. “Not tonight.” He put his hand down slower than any man working formewould have, but I guessed his problem. “I’ll cover for you with Mr. D’Amato, Dino.”
“I’d appreciate it,” he said.
The bashful relief in his eyes did not escape me. Finch might have been my angel, my baby bird, but he commanded respect from his staff—possibly even fear on occasion, judging by Dino’s reaction.
From the other end of the block, Nick Fontana was coming around the corner. “You let Fontana in nice and quiet when he gets up here, too,” I told Dino on my way past him.
“Yes, sir,” his reply echoed after me.
Inside Kismet, the coat-check clerk looked the other way so fast I thought I heard his neck crack. The bouncers let me walk past the metal detector rather than through it, then opened the inner doors for me without even catching my eye.
All in all, the security staff was trained to make my visits to Kismet run as smoothly as possible. But I wanted to see what would happen if I made things more difficult for Finch’s closest protectors. Three of them, that night.Threemen to make up one higher-level bodyguard. I wasn’t sure if that meant Vitali was just being Vitali—overly cautious, covering all his options—or if the three of them really did only make up one Gio Carlucci, for example.
I’d been eyeing Carlucci for a Capo position, but if he was indispensable as Finch’s bodyguard, he’d just have to wait a little longer.
I stood at the bar with my cap pulled down low, keeping my face away from the cameras as much as I could. I nursed a drink for half an hour before Finch made an appearance, but I knew he was there as soon as he entered the club from the opposite side of the dance floor. I couldfeelhim, even among hundreds of others, his presence unmistakable.
I scrutinized the crowd to pinpoint him, my heart missing a beat like it always did whenever I saw him again. Every time I came home. Every time I woke up. Every time I kissed him. I’d expected that feeling to wear off, for us to settle into habit, but it never had. Finchownedme, surely and completely, and every time I saw him it only renewed that ownership.
I waved away the bartender, who wanted to refresh my drink. And then I beckoned over a big guy waiting in line and shouted in his ear. “You see that guy over there in the VIP area, the one with the gold hair?”
He looked where I was staring. “Yeah?”
I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Go ask him to dance.”
He laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“You evenknowwho that guy is? No way. You keep your money; I’ll keep my teeth.”
He walked off, shaking his head. I was starting to think my plan would be stymied before I even got to phase one.
“You could try him, sir,” the bartender suggested, nodding at a leatherman down the end of the bar. “Haven’t seen him here before. He might not know Mr. D by sight.” I studied the bartender, and his smile dropped. “Uh. If that helps?”
“It helps. But keep it between us. And don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Sure, sure.”
I gave him a nod of thanks and set off to try again.
