“Will do. Though honestly, this would all be a lot easier if we could just find Aurelio and put a bullet in his skull.”
“No shit. Where are we on that?” I start the car and let it idle as the call switches from my phone to the car audio.
“Valentina’s working her sources. My hacker too. But Aurelio’s buried deep, Vin, deeper than we thought.”
“Keep on it. And Tommy?” I pause, making sure he’s listening. “Stay vigilant. Check in regularly, and make sure everyone’s safe. We don’t know who Aurelio’s got working for him now, and if he’s bringing in old players, the rules might be different, especially in your camp if one of them is your future father-in-law.”
“Copy that. Where you staying, anyway? Matti mentioned something about Siena’s cousin?”
I glance down at the empty insulated lunch bag on the passenger seat next to me, the one Sophie packed for me this morning after making me eggs. I devoured every bite before noon even though I was stuffed from breakfast. And now my stomach’s growling again.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter.
“Vin—”
“I said don’t worry about it. I’m good. You just worry about keeping Giovanna safe, and I’ll worry about me, okay?”
I rip out of the parking lot and hang up before he can push further.
I should be strategizing right now, tracking down leads, making calls, coordinating with my brothers. Should be doing literally anything other than what I’m about to do.
I set course for the Arsenal, thinking about Sophie’s red cheek this morning. She didn’t say it, but I’d bet my ass that that fuck Rocco had something to do with it. I should make sure he didn’t come back to fuck with her.
She’s practically family, which makes her my responsibility. I need to at least make sure she’s safe. That’s all this is.
And I’m hungry. She could use a paying customer who’s not some 70-year-old man paying way too much attention to her.
I pull into the parking lot and get out of the car, pocketing my phone, as I click the keys to lock the car and head to the front door of the Arsenal.
It’s just lunch. Nothing more.
12
Vin
The restaurant is dead silent when I push through the doors of the Arsenal. One old guy in the corner with a newspaper that he snaps with every page turn and his tiny steaming cup of coffee.
I wonder if he’s drinking that dark Napolitano rocket fuel Sophie served me last night and this morning and groan under my breath. I could use a shot of that shit right now. I didn’t sleep worth a damn on her broken-ass couch.
Through the pass-through window, I catch sight of her with her hands buried in dough. Rather than scare her like I did this morning, I circle around to the kitchen’s back entrance, passing the break room where the Rocco situation went down earlier. At least that prick is nowhere to be found.
When I enter, she doesn’t hear me, too absorbed in whatever she’s making. I’m going to have to work on her situational awareness, but in the meantime, I slide up behind her and plantone hand on either side of her body, caging her against the counter. “What are you—”
Pain detonates across my face like a flashbang grenade. I stagger back, hands flying to my nose as Sophie screams. The little spitfire just headbutted me. Maybe her situational awareness is better than I thought.
“FRIG!! Vin!! Oh my gosh!! Why?!” Her hands are on me, then she’s pressing a towel to my face as my nose gushes blood.
“Did you just head butt me?” I ask, the question muffled by the towel.
“I mean, you scared me! It just sort of happened—”
“Do you have any ice?” I shake my head to clear the stars still popping behind my eyelids, then touch my nose gingerly with the towel. Nothing broken, but Christ, the girl’s got a hard skull.
“Stop it. You don’t need ice. Here.” She drags over a step stool and pushes me down on it, then pushes my head forward and pinches the bridge of my nose.
I try to lift my head, squinting at her. “What are you doing?”
She shoves my head back down. “Head down and pinch it yourself if you like until the bleeding stops.” She takes my hand and replaces hers with it as I spit blood on the rubber floor mats.
