bags up to the room at the top of the stairs with the twin beds. I unpack our stuff into the dresser, load my Glock from the hard-sided case they gave me at Safesite, and tuck it into the back waistband of my jeans. It’s the only thing the Feds let me keep, probably because they knew I’d just go out and buy another one. This way, someone shows up with a bullet through their brain, they can trace it back to me if it’s mine.
When I’m done, I move to the window. It sticks when I try to lift it but lets loose when I give it a hard yank. I pull the screen and unlatch the shutters. The hinges groan in protest as I push them open. The storm has passed, for the most part, and yellow rays of sun stab through the dissolving cloud cover. I lean out and hook the shutters back against the house, then stand here for a long time trying to figure out what happens now.
I’ll contact Pop, but only after I know what’s what and who’s who. My mind ticks through everyone at the table the day I was made—all Pop’s key guys. Most of them, I grew up calling Uncle. One of them is dead. Another, I put a knife into when he questioned my authority. They all needed to know just because I’m not Pop doesn’t mean they should fear me any less. I don’t think he’s in my fan club, but he’s in the pen with Pop right now, so he’s not in a position to benefit from my absence. That leaves Pop’s consigliere Salvador; my real Uncle Peter; a few-second tier guys; and my cousin, Jimmy D, who keeps the Bienville Hotel, our legit business front, up and running. If the organization is still functioning, it’s because one of them picked up the reins when I dropped them two weeks ago and vanished into WITSEC.
So the real question is, which one?
If it came from our side, whoever grabbed power is the guy who ordered the hit. On the other hand, if the organization is floundering with no one at the helm, then I know it wasn’t a power grab. In that case my money’s squarely on Savoca.
I move from room to room upstairs, pulling back shutters. When I get to Grant’s room, I see he’s just dumped his suitcase on his bed like he doesn’t think we’re staying. I head downstairs and find him settled in next to Sherm, firing up the Xbox. As I move around the room, pulling back shutters, the fist around my chest loosens a little when he’s able to coax Sherm into playing something with him.
Ulie comes out of her room and sinks onto the sofa on Sherm’s other side, hooking her arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t look at her, but I see him shift into her side as he pushes buttons on his controller.
There’s only one way to make this right. I’m going to take revenge on the sorry bastard who did this to us, serve his head on a platter at the next borgata sit-down, and bring my family home.
Even if it kills me.
Chapter 2
Adri
“Is this straight?” Dad asks, peering in the mirror across from the front door and messing with the badge on the breast pocket of his blue shirt.
There is almost no crime on our little island because Dad is legendary for taking down drug rings and poachers, but when it comes to the little things, like pinning his badge on straight, he still needs help.
That’s why I’m here.
When Mom died last spring, I came back from Jacksonville so I could live at home and help Dad. He and Mom were high school sweethearts and married not long after graduation. He’s always been taken care of. I don’t want him to be alone.
I move to where he is and turn him, unpinning the badge and straightening it. I smooth his salt-and-pepper hair off his forehead and stretch up on my toes to kiss the smooth patch of cheek above the line of his beard. “I seriously doubt they’re going to send the chief of police home for a dress code infraction.”
“We’ll see,” he chuckles, giving my blond ponytail a gentle tug. “You ready for your first day influencing the youth of Port St. Mary?”
I was over the moon when I got the call three days ago that Mrs. Martin had had surgery and they needed a long-term sub