an Irishman are wrestling over his rifle. I raise my gun and, too tired to take prisoners, cleave off the top of the Irishman’s head. The blood spray-paints Ubert.
“Sorry,” I wheeze, slumping down. “Didn’t mean to—”
“Boss!”
I see Ubert rushing forward to catch me—he’s a good man—before darkness takes me.
I wake propped up against the hood of a car, flames flickering nearby. Nario is softly shaking my shoulder. I rub my eyes and see that the flames are coming from the warehouse. A big plume of smoke reaches into the sky. I touch my throat, still a little raw, and turn to find Ubert on my left, slowly wrapping a bandage around his thigh. I see the Albino and Durante, too. The Albino is showing off his hand, which has a bullet hole right in the middle. He peers through it with his red eyes.
“Think it will heal?” he asks casually.
I smile, sliding off the hood. Somebody has already bandaged my leg and my hand. Both are superficial cuts. My forearm has been re-bandaged, too.
“Any dead?” I ask Nario.
“No,” he says. “Well—yes. Lots on their side. But, grazie a Dio, we got away clean. We’ve got one prisoner, too.”
“Bring him to me.”
The Albino drags him over with his good hand, giving the man a swift kick in the back of the knees to send him to the ground.
“This is the don of the De Maggio Family you are addressing,” Maury warns. “Show respect.”
I wave a hand and Maury backs off. Then I kneel down and lift the Irishman’s chin with my hand. I make him look me in the eye.
“You are going to tell the Elephant that this attack was in retaliation for his pathetic attempts to disrupt my business. The men I have taken are fair payment for what he did outside Nario Sartori’s home. And, if he thinks otherwise and decides to seek vengeance, I will cut his son into little pieces and scatter them around the city like fucking rose petals. Am I clear?”
“Y-yes, Mr. De Maggio, sir.”
“Mr. De Maggio,” Durante grunts. “An Irishman, and ‘Mr. De Maggio,’ he says.”
“Go,” I growl.
I turn to Nario as sirens wail in the air. A loud crash sounds from the warehouse as the rafters give way.
“Think this is a clear enough message?” I ask.
He tugs thoughtfully at his scar. “It’s a start.”
19
Hazel
After the sex in the office, Carlo becomes distant again. Whole days go by and it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that I exist. When we do see each other—at dinner, when Alda won’t take no for an answer—I can tell he’s been in a fight. His voice is hoarse. He walks with a slight limp.
I tell myself I’m content to let him play the jerk. Either he makes good on his promise to take me the hell out of here soon, or I’ll grow my hair Rapunzel-style and find another fucking prince.
I’m done playing these games with him.
“You really love this family then, girl,” Lucille is saying this afternoon, during our Skype lesson. “But I still don’t know nothing about them.”
“Don’t know ‘anything.’”
“Exactly.”
I’m surprised that I sort of want to tell her about Alda and Emily and, yeah, even Carlo. Like it’s show-and-tell at school and I’ve got a brand-new toy. I want to be like: hey, Lucille, you know that hunk who came by the rec a few times? Well, we’ve actually developed a bit of a …
But that’s always where the fantasy ends. Because what have we developed, really? One step forward, two steps back. I should get that tattooed on the back of my hand to remind me that there’s no future here.
There’s no way to tell Lucille all that, of course, so instead, I just give her a wink.
“Mystery girl,” Lucille giggles.
Once the lesson is over, I head for the elevator. I promised Emily that I’d give her some feedback on her latest plot synopsis. When I get to the attic, I see that I’m not the only one she’s roped into this. Alda is sitting on a big purple chair, looking queenly. I slump on the beanbag as Emily wheels over, Kindle on her lap.
“I transfer all my files to my Kindle,” she explains. “Makes it easier for me to read. Or maybe I’m just superstitious. My first bestseller lived on my Kindle, so …” She shrugs. “But you didn’t ask for my life story. Has anyone been in the garden today? It’s nice, isn’t it? Sunny.”