Pablo’s phone rings, and he turns the screen toward us before answering.
“Hola, tío.”
Enrique responds in Spanish, demanding to know what’s going on. Apparently, none of Alejandro’s cousins gave him any details before they took off for the hospital, and they don’t know we headed back to Queens.
“What happened?”
It’s Pablo who responds since Enrique called him.
“A woman attempted to drug Alejandro in his room. Vittoria took care of it. There was an ambush in the parking garage. We lost our men, but the rest of us are at the bodega.”
“Alejo, you better call yourmamábefore she skins me alive. Ellie won’t come to my rescue either.”
Enrique’s voice carries a rueful tone. While it might be easy to think he’s joking about his wife, I’m certain he’s not. Elle has three adult sons, so I’m certain she understands Catalina’s concerns.
How fucked-up is that he just heard Pablo mention two attacks, and he’s not demanding more details?
I know he’ll get them soon from one of the other guys, but I suppose the fact Alejandro isn’t back in a hospital bed means it’s not a cause for panic.
“I will,Tío.”
“Joaquin, any news?”
“Nothing beyond what I shared with you earlier. Did you speak with Salvatore?”
“I did. I mean, if you can call our screaming match a conversation. I doubt he understood my Spanglish, and I didn’t understand all of his Itanglese, but we know we’re pissed. And for once, it’s not at each other, even if it got heated.”
I remain quiet despite the volley of questions bouncing back and forth in my head.
“Tío, if he’s not pissed at us, then why were you yelling?” Javier’s question is one of mine, and I’m sure the others are wondering the same thing.
“He’s already aware Alejandro and Vittoria are together. He wouldn’t admit how he knew. I’m certain Piero’s spoken to him, but I got the feeling he knew well before today. He was livid that Vittoria was in danger and that anyone dared include her in an attack on us. He demanded the construction project in Elizabeth in exchange for staying out of this. I told him we’d hand over the project to him for information. I clarified that doesn’t mean we want him involved. We just want to know what he knows. He refused, saying information would cost more, and the only way he’d agree to it is if we let him handle whoever’s behind this. It makes me think that perhaps it’s the Torettas and the Carosis after all.”
That’s a punch to the gut, if it’s theMala del Brenta. The Torettas I can understand. They’re bonded to theMala del Brentaby blood and by marriage. However, I can’t hold itagainst them, since business is business. But the notion that Piero either sanctioned this or turned a blind eye hurts more than I want to admit.
The man’s known me since the day I was born. He’s my godfather, after all. As I consider it more, something feels wrong about the explanation beyond my familial connection to Piero. I shift my focus from the phone in Pablo’s hand to Alejandro. He gives me a reassuring nod, encouraging me to continue.
“I know I’m biased here, and I certainly don’t want to believe my own people are behind the assassination attempts on me, but I really don’t think it’s theCosa Nostraor theMala del Brenta. I think Salvatore’s hedging his bets and trying to buy time to investigate on his own. I think he suspects the Camorra or’Ndrangheta. He doesn’t want to admit those allies are getting the better of theCosa NostraandMala del Brenta. He definitely doesn’t want to admit anything’s happening in this turf war that he doesn’t know about.”
“That could well be true. We won’t know unless we can speak to somebody in the midst of this.”
“I agree, Enrique. It’s time to call Don Piero.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alejandro
To say I’m uneasy about this call puts it mildly. I’d rather have a prostate exam while getting a root canal. But we hang up withTíoEnrique, and Vita takes the burner I offer her. My cousins and I cluster together as it rings on speakerphone. Pablo’s going to interpret for us since he’s the only one who speaks fluent Italian. The rest of us have a smattering, most of it consisting of profanity.
“Who is this?”
That much I understand. Piero certainly doesn’t trust calls from unknown numbers. I can’t blame him. When they come in, we always know there’s a possibility it’s legit, so we tend not to turn them down. However, most of us like surprises as much as a hole in the head.
“Don Piero, it’s Vittoria.”
In the background, I hear a man shout Vita’s name. It’s most certainly her father.
“Toria, where are you? What’s happening? Who are you with? Are you safe?”
