“Nathan,” Angelo snaps.
I push to my feet, ignoring the stab of pain through my knee so I can get in Angelo’s face. “His name is Nash. You lost the right to call him Nathan when you abandoned him and let him think you were dead.”
“I did that to protect him!”
“Well, bless your heart, sugar. Ain’t you just the sweetest, most dotin’ father on the planet. Did he look safe to you?”
Angelo’s shoulders slump. He leans heavily on his cane, all the fight leaching out of him in a single, heavy sigh. “No.”
I ain’t done with the man. Not yet. “Did you know he still has one of Mae’s stuffed animals? He’s kept Bandit safe for twenty years. Through more moves than he can count. The first thing he told me about his family? How he always let her win at hopscotch.”
Tears glisten in the older man’s eyes. Where Nash’s are the blue of a summer sky and just as warm, Angelo’s are frosty. A winter’s morning, pale and cold and clear as ice. “Bandit saved his life. Nathan tripped and the shots went wide. He was barely breathing when the ambulance arrived.”
“And where were you?”
Angelo pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and swipes at his cheek. “In the hall. The bullet grazed my spine. I couldn’t feel my legs for weeks. Lincoln—Enzo’s son—wanted me to watch my family die. But a neighbor heard my wife scream and called the police. He ran before he could finish me off.”
With nothing to distract me from the horrors of Nash’s childhood, I lower myself onto the edge of the bed and rub my knee gently. “Whose idea was it to send Nash away?”
“Mine.” Angelo moves to the window and stares at the park across the street. Children play on swings. Mothers stand at the fringes with strollers, coffee cups in hand. “When Stella found out she was pregnant with Nathan—Nash—I told my father I was out. He tried to convince me to stay, but when that failed, he called Duncan.”
“Shut the front door. Your father got you into Witness Protection?”
With a soft smile, Angelo nods. “He let the FBI raid one of his clubs—on a night some of Enzo’s generals were there for a meeting—in exchange for our entrance into the program. The first time I met Duncan was in my father’s office a week before we left Chicago.”
“Ten minutes out,” Ryker says in my ear. “Base, are you there?”
I shoot Angelo a look. “Hold up. I need to listen.”
“Base here,” Wren says. “What do you need?”
“Property records. Anything owned by the DeLuca family that might have a basement. We searched the pool house and the garage. But a guy like this…he’s got a mistress stashed somewhere. Maybe two. Same with the son.”
“On it.”
I tap my earbud, activating the mic. “Romeo, what’s goin’ on with the two…not-hostiles?”
“Whiskey will interrogate them. If they know anything, he’ll get it out of them.”
“You’re bringin’ them here?” I don’t know why this surprises me. We’re in a new city, no resources beyond what we brought with us, and very little intel.
My new phone—an exact copy of the one I bricked—vibrates, and I unlock the screen.
Ryker: Is Angelo listening?
“Negative,” I say quietly.
The bone-conduction mics are so sensitive, I think I hear Ryker sigh. “I don’t trust that asshole. But he’ll have insights into Enzo’s behavior we don’t. I’d stash these two somewhere much less comfortable than the Five Points, but Base would have a harder time monitoring the camera feeds.”
He’s right. All of the Five Points hotels worldwide run Oversight, the business security software West’s wife designed. Cam wasn’t thrilled we asked for backdoor access to the system, but even her strong moral code won’t stop her from doing anything to keep West safe.
“Ignore me. I’m near about past goin’.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
I snort, then wince. “Means I’ve been up for twenty…no, thirty hours, not countin’ the time I spent unconscious.”
“We’re pulling into the garage now. As soon as we’re settled, you’re relieved. Take an hour—or three. If anything breaks, we’ll come get you.”
