Angelo had taken advantage of Sonny’s goodwill—and his wariness of upsetting Luca D’Amato again—to set up a team of men there in Las Vegas who were loyal to the Morellis. None of them had made vows to the Family, but all of them were happy to work toward Morelli goals for a cut of the profits. The Mob called them associates—or sometimes, friends. Friends of the Family.
Maybe that described me, too. A friend of the Family. “I don’t care where we are as long as I’m with you,” I said to Angelo. It was a cliché, sure. But it was true.
Angelo’s smile got wider. He stepped up to me, put his hand behind my neck, and pulled me in for a deep kiss. I was too surprised to worry about morning breath. “Go shower,” he told me after. “Stay flexible.”
Stay flexible.
It was shorthand between the two of us, a reminder that whatever we planned, those plans might change. Probably would. Maybe we’d come back to Vegas; maybe we’d end up somewhere else.
If I was honest with myself, which I always tried to be, there was a part of me that hoped we’d never reach the monster in the middle of the maze. Because finding Greco, getting his testimony, clearing our names…it would change things between Angelo and me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that change.
Stay flexible, I reminded myself in the shower, cold enough to wake me up.
Change wasn’t the enemy. Angelo and I could adapt. Just because I wasn’t sure what our relationship might look like if we weren’t on the run from the law, from our past, it didn’t mean the relationship wouldn’t survive.
As long as we stayed flexible.
* * *
Thingsalways changed fast for us; that was a given. When I got out of the shower, they’d changed again. Angelo’s eyes were gleaming, and he had a controlled but intense aura around him, the attitude I associated with his Mob persona.
“I talked to Sonny,” he said as I dressed. “And he just got a tip on Greco.”
I chuckled and kept dressing. Sonny had had tips before, designed to get us out of his city. He liked us alright, he just didn’t like us so close, and he liked the group of Morelli associates that Angelo had set up even less.
“Let me guess,” I said, pulling up my jeans. “Greco’s been spotted in Hawaii?” Last tip from Sonny, Greco had been in Alaska.
“Little closer this time,” Angelo said. “Los Angeles.”
“Uh-huh.”
“There are photos.” He held out his phone to me and I snatched it.
It was Greco, alright, walking down a sidewalk in the middle of Hollywood, judging by the stars under his feet. He was laughing with a very famous, aging movie star who had been in more than one mobster film.
The thing about Donnie Greco was, he just couldn’t lay low. Couldn’t help himself, even though he knew there were people after him. But Greco liked to live large. Maybe it had something to do with being out from under the thumb of both his Family and the WITSEC program, but whatever it was, I was thankful for it. His arrival anywhere was like throwing a rock into a pond: we might not know exactly where he’d landed, but the ripples sure cut down the search area.
He knew he was a wanted man. And yet there he was, yukking it up like a famewhore on a Hollywood street.
“Fuck me,” I muttered through my teeth, and glanced back up at Angelo. “He’s so stupid—how the hell have we not caught up to him yet?”
“He’s stupid but he’s wily. And he has friends.” Angelo took the phone back from me and kissed me again. “Mm. Minty,” he said afterward, and then put his fingers under my chin. “I want to get this guy.”
“Me, too.”
“But I owe the Boss first. He needs my help.”
I paused for a second. Sometimes my first instinct was to whine about the unfairness of it all, but it helped nothing. I’d known this was coming, ever since the nightly news had begun covering the escalating Mob wars in New York.
“I get it,” I said. “And there are things I owe them for, too. Let’s go help.”
“You could go on to LA. I’ll meet you there—”
“I’m coming to New York,” I said firmly, staring him straight in the eyes. “Where you go, I go.” Once upon a time I hadn’t been good in the field. I still preferred thinking over action. But when you spend a year training one-on-one with Angelo Messina, you get good.Verygood. And there was no way in hell I was letting him go anywhere without backup.
His face softened. “Once we’re done, we’ll sniff out Greco in LA. Agreed?”
As much as I loved justice, I loved Angelo Messina more. I wanted him more than I wanted a clear reputation. And I would protect him, no matter what. If that meant working with the Morellis, I’d do it.
