“It’s a long story,” I say and look back to Carmine.
“You want me to take care of her?” he asks.
I sigh. “Yes, please,” I ask of him. “She needs to get home to America. I don’t think she has anyone else here to keep her safe. I can’t take her with me, the Bianchis will find out and who knows what they’ll do to her then.”
Carmine hums low and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I knew they were related to some of the disappearances of tourists, but I had no idea it was this,” he says quietly, and looks toward the woman. “I’ll keep you safe and get you home.”
She sighs. “Thank you. I don’t even really understand what’s going on right now or who you people are, I just want to get home.”
Carmine nods his head. “I understand. Come on, let’s get you some clean clothing.” He motions her toward the stairs.
“Wait,” I say. “Where’s Tommy? I need to talk to him.”
Carmine eyes me. “He said he was meeting you,” he explains. “Though…we’d just argued about him wanting to take the Carvels out instead of trying to talk to them, so I figured it might have been an excuse.”
“He hasn’t been with me,” I say.
Carmine’s jaw tightens. “He’s been gone all day.”
I huff. “Son of a bitch.”
I drive through town in the darkness of the night searching for Tommaso like I’m looking for hidden treasure. No, more like I’m looking for a missing dog. A dog that could very well be dead by now. Not that I don’t trust his instinct or strength...but I get the feeling when he flies off the handle he’s not exactly thinking with his head.
It’s not until I’m halfway between Tessari and the city the Carvels call their own that I start to see signs of something going awry. I spot Tommy’s car by the side of the road and immediately inhale in anticipation. I spot the empty driver’s seat, and it doesn’t make me feel any better than if he’d been sitting dead in it.
I keep driving until I reach the side of an alleyway that leads to a dead end with a chain-link fence. It’s dark save for the yellowing light that shines down from the street lamp several feet away from its entrance.
It’s halfway into the alley that I see it. Two dark clothed figures dragging a body toward a metal door in the side of one of the adjacent buildings. Without hesitation, I hop out of my car—not even turning the engine off—and rush into the alley.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I growl. I’m not sure at first that it’s Tommy, and perhaps if it’s someone else, I should mind my business, but I don’t care. I can’t take the risk.
“Trevor?” one of the voices asks.
I immediately recognize it as one of the Carvels. Jason.
I swallow thickly.
“Hey man! We’re just taking care of one of the Dresvannis, what the hell are you doin’ out here?” he asks me.
My gaze flicks down to the man they’re dragging by the arms.
Tommy. I see his face all bruised and bloody. Crimson drips down his hairline and over his nose. A crack in his lip, and a cut on his cheek bone.
I should handle this carefully. I should convince them that I can take care of the body myself, that they can go back and tell everyone that Tommaso Dresvanni is no longer a problem.
Unfortunately, the sudden fury in my chest and head doesn’t let me.
“You bastards,” I spit out in my natural accent. I remove the distance between me and Jason and grab him by the front of his shirt.
He looks at me with shock and confusion. I can smell the alcohol on him, but even more than that I can smell the blood. Tommy’s blood.
This sets me off even more.
“What?” he asks, and I feel another hand on my shoulder.
Raymond.
I immediately rip myself away from his hold and pull Jason closer to me. “You messed with the wrong man tonight,” I hiss at him.
