to shoot them. I shake my head, giving the signal not to. As much as I want to slaughter them all for how brazen this attack is, as much as the anger is gnawing at me with red-hot teeth, I know that if we shoot them now, we’re dead. Felice takes a step back and we watch as they pull out of the street.
I cuff Mikey’s hands behind his back and shove him into the car, and then go around to the back and shake Levi awake. He blinks his eyes open, clearly disoriented, but when I explain what’s going on, he sits up like he’s ready for a fight.
“They’re gone, fratello,” I say. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”
Felice leans down into the car, nodding at Mikey. “What about this prick?” When Mikey makes as if to speak, Felice casually reaches around and places his gun to the side of his head. “Does talking right now really seem like a good idea, friend?”
“I’ll call Giuseppe, have him circle back for this bastard, and then drive us to the hospital.” I look doubtfully at Felice. “On second thought, I’ll call him and then drive Felice down right away. You good, Levi?”
“Head hurts,” Levi grunts. “Nothing that’ll keep me down, Angelo. Let’s take care of business.”
About an hour later, I’m sitting in the hospital waiting room, sipping coffee and waiting on news of Felice. Not that that’s all I’m doing, of course. There is distribution to take care of for the King Kong shipment, as well as putting the feelers out for Mikey’s friends. I go to the stairwell for this, talking on my burner cell, pausing any time a nurse or a rogue patient sneaking out for a smoke break interrupts me.
I’ve just finished my latest call when I see that Levi is calling. When I answer, I expect it’s to tell me that he and Giuseppe have got Mikey to a safe house for questioning and he’s on his way to the hospital now.
But instead, he says, “Slippery fucker got away, Angelo.”
I tighten my grip on the phone. “How?”
He tells me a story that, if it came from anybody else, I’d label as complete bullshit. Apparently, Levi got out of the car to have a smoke break, and Mikey opened the door and just sprinted down the alleyway. He must’ve turned his body and opened it from behind, since his hands were cuffed. Levi has been chasing him for almost this entire time, he tells me, but Mikey—still in handcuffs, I know, because I’ve got the keys—has finally gotten away. But Levi is my oldest friend, and he most likely has a concussion. So maybe it isn’t bullshit. I’m torn.
I try to force some calm into my voice, but even so it comes out fierce and impatient. “Now we have no fucking clue who was behind the attack,” I tell him. “Now we—Forget it, shit. Just get to the hospital. Shit.”
I hang up before we can say anything else, worried about what I’m going to say. Because even if Levi is my best and oldest friend, there is something wrong with that story.
Or maybe he’s just getting incompetent. Which, in our line of work, is just as fucking bad.
17
Dani
The next morning, I’m outside my bedroom door, ear pressed against it, wondering if I should go and get a glass so I can eavesdrop better or if that only works in the movies. Wyatt is on the phone to some official from the school and, well, let’s just say that butterflies in my belly is one hell of an understatement.
“I really didn’t—heck, no, sir, I understand—oh, well …”
None of it sounds good. Whoever is on the other end of the phone isn’t even letting him talk. They just keep ranting over him every time he opens his mouth. I have to stop myself from marching in there and screaming at them to let him talk.
Soon, the phone call is over and I run across the room just in time for Wyatt not to see I was eavesdropping. When he appears, he’s wearing last night’s clothes, red hair ruffled, looking more like he just got back from a sleepover than a drug-fueled party.
“Suspended,” he says. “Fucking suspended for a bit of weed and a few lines. I swear to God, sis, this is just fricking ridiculous. Apparently, what I put in my own body is their concern. Fuck me.”
He groans and kicks the couch, slumping down.
“How long are you suspended