"It was the McLaren," Dante said. "12C. Bright blue. Hard to forget."
"Not ringing a bell."
"Can you go look for it?"
"Do you have your ticket?"
"If I had my ticket, do you think I would've bothered describing the fucking thing to you?"
"No ticket, no car."
Gabriella saw the frustration rising up in Dante, his expression hardening. She took a step down, to approach them, to try to calm the situation because it was obviously intentional, when someone stepped out of the house, placing a hand on her shoulder to stall her. "I've got this, sweetheart."
Her father walked past her. "Get Mr. Galante's car, Alonzo. It's parked in the main garage. I'm sure you remember it."
"Yes, sir," the guy said, saluting him before jogging away.
"Don't mention it." Alfie reached over, snatching her into a hug. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she smiled. He smelled like the inside of a car. "I figure, you know, he had enough balls to come here and face us, so the least I can do is let him drive my little girl home when she's ready to go."
"He's good to me, you know."
"He better be."
"He is," she said. "He rubs my feet and makes me macaroni."
Dante shot her a look that made her laugh.
"Well, then," Alfie said. "What more do you need? Other than safety and security, that is."
"He gives me that, too," she said. "Although, I can take care of myself."
"I know you can."
The blue supercar came rolling up to the front of the house. Dante approached it, opening the passenger door and waiting. Alfie walked Gabriella over to the car, letting go of her once they reached it. She climbed in and Dante closed the door, pausing there, turning to her father as the man started to leave. "Mr. Russo."
Alfie stalled.
"A while back, my father figured out that your family harbored Matteo Barsanti, that you let him hide out in your territory."
Alfie stared at him, not apologetic at all. "He was just a child."
"Yeah, well, my father…" Dante looked away, like he was struggling to find words. "He figures if you're not his ally, you must be his enemy. This whole thing was always supposed to be about protecting the people we love, and my father… I don't think there's a person alive that he loves anymore. Nobody but himself. But the people I love, well…" He glanced back through the window of the car. "He doesn't call them allies anymore."
Alfie stood there, stewing over that, before he asked, "Are you living with him?"
"Not anymore."
"Where are you living?"
"An apartment in Little Italy."
Alfie's eyes narrowed. Uh-oh. "You living with my daughter?"
Lie, Gabriella thought, bracing herself as she stared out the car window at them. Whatever you do, don't tell him the friggin truth.
"Yes, sir."
Ugh.
Alfie let out a sound, like a strangled growl, as he ran his hands down his face. "You have gotta be fucking kidding me. My daughter let you move in?"
Gabriella pressed buttons in the car, tinkering with the knobs on the door, trying to figure out how to put down the window so she could join the conversation.
"Yes, sir," Dante said again.
"I'm telling you right now, if this comes down on her, I'm coming down on you." Alfie pinched the bridge of his nose as he muttered to himself, "Already shacking up. She's trying to give me a fucking heart attack."
Giving up on the window, Gabriella grabbed the door handle, lifting it to push the door open. She protested, demanding she could take care of herself, when Dante reached back, slamming the door shut again and leaning back against it, so she couldn't open it anymore. Rude.
"She won't get hurt," Dante said. "I'll make sure of it."
"You better," Alfie said. "Because my Gabby, she's quick to pull the trigger, and I mean that in every way imaginable. She makes decisions in a snap. She jumps in headfirst but doesn't always look at what she's diving into, and that can get her in trouble. Big trouble."
"I can hear you guys, you know," she yelled, banging against the window with her fist, but the men ignored her, continuing with their conversation.
"She doesn't scare easily these days," Alfie said, "but she isn't bulletproof. I don't think she realizes that."
"Yes, I do," she grumbled, swinging her legs over the center console, careful not to jab any buttons