mobility. A deep flesh wound, then.
“Sil,” I say, jogging over to my second. “And your children. Are they—”
“That’s why I took so long getting out here. I’m sorry, Carlo. I had to make sure—”
I slam him on the shoulder. “You did the right thing, man. Beef up security on all our businesses. And take Sil and the kids someplace safe. Someplace public. A hotel. Set up round-the-clock security.”
Nario nods slowly. “Sure, Carlo, sure, but first we need to patch up that arm.”
I grimace. “Then we need to drive out to Giorgio’s place and let his wife know how it’s going to be. Her children’s children will be taken care of. We need to let her know that they’ll never want for anything, ever.”
Except a husband, and a father, which those Irish dogs stole from her.
“We could kill Benjamin as retaliation,” Nario muses. “But he’s—”
“Still too valuable.” I stumble, bracing myself against the car. “Fucking blood loss.”
“Come on.” He touches my elbow. “Wait in the car. I’ll get Sil and the kids out back so they don’t have to see the bodies. Then we’ll patch up that arm. For now, keep pressure on it. Here.” He takes off his suit jacket and hands it to me. “And don’t be a baby. It didn’t even hit bone.”
I laugh grimly, dropping onto the back seat. “You know, Nario, I don’t think I’ve ever hated the Irish more than I do right now. Your fucking house—how dare they.”
He grimaces. “Thank you, Carlo. I should’ve said that right away. Thank you for killing those fuckers. Thank you for not dying.”
I grin, gesturing with the blood-soaked suit jacket. “Don’t thank me yet.”
We spend the rest of the day cleaning up the mess the attack has left us with: setting up a new bank account for Giorgio’s wife, taking his body to the funeral home, making arrangements for our businesses, moving Nario’s family to a penthouse suite. By the time I come home, I want nothing more than to just punish myself in the gym, but as I pass the security room on my way to my bedroom, I hear the unmistakable sound of Vivaldi.
For a second, I think I’m going to open the door and find Dad sitting in there, a whiskey on the rocks in his hand, his dark brown eyes flitting over the security monitors. But instead I find Mother, her veil pulled back over her head as she leans close to the screen.
She is laughing quietly, covering her mouth, a tear sliding down her cheek.
I move closer.
She looks up at me silently but makes no move for the veil. Emily and I both inherited Mother’s blue-green eyes. My little brother got Dad’s, but thinking about him is too damn much after everything today. I remember the way Hazel hugged me, how it felt like that knot of tension that’s been there ever since we lost him eased up—just the tiniest bit.
I need to keep my head.
But it’s hard with what Mother is watching on the screen. It’s footage from earlier in the day: Hazel and Emily dancing in the front driveway, Hazel spinning her around in the wheelchair as some pop song blares from the house. Emily is laughing wildly and throwing her hands in the air, her multicolored bracelets catching the light. Hazel is laughing just as much.
“They look like sisters.”
Mother nods. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve wanted Emily to have a friend for so long.”
“She has friends,” I say, oddly offended. “The girls from the book club. Those writers she’s always Skyping with.”
“There is a distinct line between acquaintances and friends, my love.”
I bristle, dropping down into the seat near the record player—Mother must’ve brought it in here—closing my eyes and listening to the music of my childhood.
“I see there was trouble today,” she says, sitting down next to me. She nods at my arm. Her scar goes from just above her right eye to the right corner of her lip, but it’s not ugly. I wish she wouldn’t wear the veil.
I shrug. “There is always trouble. Why were you watching that?”
“Because it’s wonderful. Is this the part where you pretend it makes you angry?”
“She’s a prisoner,” I grumble. “Nothing else.”
She sighs. “Are we really going to play that game, Carlo?”
“It’s not a game. It’s the truth.”
My words ring with a hollowness I don’t like at all. Hazel and Emily are still dancing on the screen. I taste her, mixing with the pond water, smell her damp hair, feel her cheek against