floor of the home is dark, and there’s no furniture inside. He walks to a bookcase built into the side of the fireplace and puts his gun on the shelf before grabbing two candlesticks. He places them on the mantel and lights the candles with a matchbook.
With the room lit by the two wicks, he takes the phone from my hand. “While I like traveling by iPhone light, I’d also like to save my battery.”
“My mother. I need to call her and tell her where I am.”
“You can’t do that.” His words are quick.
“Why not? What’s going on?” With a turn of his head, I know he doesn’t want to give me a straight answer. I start to pace. “I hate being left in the dark. Literally and figuratively. I’ve trusted you so far; now, you need to have faith in me by explaining what the hell is going on.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, and with his hands still on his head, he stares back, seeming unsure.
“Jesse, please,” I beg, and he glares out the window. His jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth. The war in his mind rages, but my side seems to win.
“Take a seat.” He gestures to the hearth.
I sit on the cold stone, and he remains standing as he takes his phone out and makes a call.
“Yeah,” he says to whoever picked up. He looks at me with a warning glare that says I need to stay quiet as he speaks, “I’m at the point. Yes, I’m alone.” He listens on the other end and walks the length of the room. “I exchanged fire with one man. Definitely a Lugazzi. I recognize him from one of my runs. He’ll need a bus if he hasn’t been hauled out of there by his own men already.”
There’s more walking. His heavy footsteps tread the room.
His eyes glance to me every once in a while. I’m sitting here, rubbing my sweaty palms together, feeling a pang in my gut, waiting with anticipation for him to ask whoever is on the phone what the hell happened to my family.
“Two? Okay. And the men?” he asks.
I bite my nails, and my knees shake.
Jesse’s shoulders drop, and his feet stop pacing. He gazes at me. “What about Raphael Sorrentino? His wife and daughters were supposed to be there.”
My eyes bulge, and my heart pounds in my gut as he asks about my father.
He nods his head. “I assumed. He’s quick for an old guy.”
His expression lets me know my father is okay. I let out a cry in relief.
“I’m gonna wait here for a few. No, don’t send a car. I can make it back.”
He hangs up without a good-bye.
The relief falls down my cheeks as I thank the heavens that my father is okay. Jesse kneels in front of me. His hands wrap around me as he pulls me into a hug. I grip him hard and cry into his shoulder.
“It’s okay. He’s okay. Your mother and sister weren’t there yet. Your family is all right.”
I sob. “And my uncles?”
His body tenses, and I know the news is bad.
“Your uncle Vic was shot. I’m sorry.”
I gasp for breath. He’s one of my father’s best friends from childhood. “That’s horrible.”
Jesse places a hand on my shoulder and the warm sensation of his touch sooths my nerves a bit. “He’s going to live.”
I lean back and look at Jesse. How he knows all of this baffles me. “Who did this?”
“Carlo Lugazzi. Does that name ring a bell?”
I shake my head. “Should it?”
“He’s a notorious thug who runs a cartel in upstate New York.”
“What does he want with my family?”
Jesse’s brow furrows. He looks pained. “Your father has kept you in a bubble, away from all of this for a reason. I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”
“The bubble burst when men started shooting at us!”
He nods in agreement. He takes a seat beside me and rests his elbows on his knees. His hands fidget as he tries to start the story. “Your family doesn’t just provide private sanitation around New York City.”
His foot taps on the wood floor as he swallows, hard. I’ve never seen someone so bothered by what they are about to say. It’s making me nervous.
“Your family is involved in something bigger, and Carlo Lugazzi is upset because they’ve infringed on his turf.”
“You’re being vague again, Jesse.”
“And I promise, it’s for your benefit. You need to understand that me telling you this can get me killed.”
“You