“Shh...” His fingers brushed my hair off my forehead, the caress so soothing as I relaxed into the bed. “Get some rest, stella. I’ll be here...”
Surrounded by his reassuring words, I succumbed to my exhaustion.
Chapter 26
Michael
The next week was stressful as I monitored Bianca’s recovery and assessed the situation in the business. Thankfully, Bianca was recovering nicely with help from her nurse, Kenisha, who was a godsend. The woman was a retired RN who worked for a concierge home care company, and her demeanor was caring yet firm, which was perfect for my stubborn yet kind wife.
Although Bianca was supposed to stay in bed for a week, by the second day, she was demanding to walk in the back yard. It was extremely secure with a high fence and my men guarding each side, so I allowed her to take brief walks as long as Kenisha gave the okay.
Within a week, Bianca was well enough to walk briskly on the treadmill, with Kenisha by her side, and I took that as a sign that she was on the way to a full recovery. She also video chatted with Alexis several times per day. I’d forbidden Alexis to leave the safehouse, not wanting to jeopardize her safety. I’d expected Bianca to fight me on that, thinking she would want to see Alexis in person, but surprisingly, she had agreed. I believed she was extremely concerned with Alexis’s safety since her accident, and it was a valid fear.
My business, on the other hand, wasn’t faring so well. John Armetta was furious at the murder of his partner—by Victor’s widow’s hands, no less—and publicly vowed to take down every last Caruso loyalist. I continued to enhance security at the clubsin case John’s men decided to harm any of the women who worked for me. So far, they’d stayed away from the clubs, but John had sent other subtle messages.
Two of those messages were sent through the physicians I hired to check on Bianca. Both Dr. Spano and Dr. Strong had been very open to house calls until they each walked out to their cars one morning to find a picture of Bianca underneath their windshield wiper.
Both doctors had been visibly shaken and the message had been received loud and clear: stop treating Michael Caruso’s wife.We’re watching.
I called Adrian Zappa shortly thereafter, hoping he would be open to helping me.
“Dr. Zappa,” he answered as I sat in my office.
“Adrian, it’s Michael Caruso. I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a problem. Considering that you understand my line of work, I thought you might be open to helping me.”
“What’s the problem?”
Sighing, I rubbed my eye sockets, wondering how the happy days after my marriage had turned so miserable. “My enemies left a photo of Bianca on Dr. Strong and Dr. Spano’s cars, at their homes. It scared them, understandably, and now I’m afraid I can’t find anyone to check on her.”
Silence stretched as Adrian contemplated. “I’ll come and check on her. I understand the difficulties. I’ll come tomorrow if that works, but after my surgeries are over around four.”
“Perfect. Thanks. I can pay you whatever you want. The money doesn’t matter. I just want her to heal.”
“That’s kind, but I can think of a better use for it,” he said. “One of my partners is an oncological surgeon, and the cancer center always needs donations.”
“I’ll make an anonymous donation next week,” I said with a nod. “Just give me some time to speak to my accountant.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow after four.”
With that problem solved, I headed into the second week of Bianca’s recovery, only to receive a phone call from Katia on a rainy Wednesday afternoon.
“What’s up?” I asked, putting her on speaker as I sat in the back of my SUV. Leo had received a tip that an unauthorized shipment was heading toward the Central Jersey docks, and I’d traveled there with several of my men to ensure it wasn’t a shipment of girls from Eastern Europe. After several hours, the shipment never arrived, and I wondered where the false tip originated.
“Michael, the New York liquor authority is here in Queens,” Katia’s voice said, filled with worry. “They say they received several complaints that we’ve been serving minors.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said, harshly rubbing my forehead. “Our bouncers are too well-trained to let anyone underage in.”
“I know that, but they said they have to suspend our liquor license while they investigate. They said it could take up to three weeks.”
Sighing, I called to my driver. “Take me to Silk and Lace,” I said, referencing the Queens club I owned. “I’ll be there shortly, Katia. If they need to shut it down, so be it.”
When I arrived, I spoke to the inspectors, who confirmed they’d received several anonymous tips.
“I’m going to assume you understand I have enemies,” I said to the two inspectors as we all stood by the bar of the now-empty club. “I’ve closed this establishment while you investigate, but I don’t want this to happen at any of my other clubs. You’re welcome to have someone on-site as we operate and monitor my bouncers. They check each ID at the door.”
The inspectors looked at each other, silently communicating.
“We have to investigate all complaints, but we can make this venue our primary investigation site,” one of the inspectors said. “That way, we won’t have to close down the others.”
