I reach up and touch her hair, gently, because I need to, for myself. “You’re here,” I say. “That’s enough right now.”
Her throat works. She nods once.
The elevator opens into a hallway, but not the one that leads to my apartment.
We head down the hall and around the corner to another set of elevators. This is the one that leads to our floor. I key in my personal code, and the elevator moves.
The doors open to a hallway that is clean and quiet. Cameras are set high in the corners, every angle covered and overlapped.
I unlock the door to my apartment, pull it open, and usher her inside.
Elsa steps in and stops dead. She’s still standing now, but I know it won’t be long until all of this hits her, and she’ll have to process it however her mind and body need to.
I need to be here for her, but I have to take care of a couple of things first.
I close the door behind us andstep to her.
Her hair is slightly mussed from the ceiling crawl. Her face is pale even under the dim lights of the entrance hall.
“Elsa,” I say. “I just need a minute, all right? I need to talk to Vito, and I’ll be right back.”
Her gaze snaps to me. “Antonio—”
“Just one minute,dolcezza,” I say quickly, because the fear in her voice slices through me. “I'll be right outside the door. I promise.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue. Then she nods.
I step back out and pull the door closed behind me, leaving it on the latch, not fully locked.
Vito is in the hallway, leaning against the wall. My nephew is a lot younger than I am, by a lot. Broad shoulders, sharp eyes, and an aura of danger and violence that seems to surround him.
“You good?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say.
He snorts. “Not what I meant.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You heard what those fuckers in the hallway said. Elsa’s not exactly used to hearing people talk about wanting her dead because she’s not useful anymore.” My voice shakes with rage at the way she was trembling in my arms.
Vito’s jaw tightens.
“And right on the tail of that,” I say, “she’s being shot at.”
“Lot of firsts for her today,” he says.
“And lasts,” I say definitively.
He nods once.
“Tell me what you have,” I say.
“Four confirmed inside Northstar,” he replies. “Two outside. Plus another in a vehicle posted half a block out—spotter. We took care of him before you came out. We lost one after you got into the ceiling, but we’ve got eyes on exits now. Vanni’s team is on the other three.”
“And Bellandi?” I ask.
Vito’s eyes narrow. “Emilio is in Chicago still, but he’s directing.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. It irritates me. If you’re going to have someone killed, at least have the damn decency to oversee it yourself.
