“Gioia’s got three kids in college, all in Manhattan. He’s raised those kids himself, since his wife died having the youngest. They are definitely his weakness. He’d do anything to keep them from harm. We take his kids, we’ll have his attention.”
Silence thundered across the table until Angie muttered—quietly, holding onto some respect for the don who’d made the suggestion—“Jesus.”
“I’m not saying I recommend it. But it is another wedge.”
“We don’t target innocents,” Nick said, thinking of his family. Of Carina, who’d almost been taken. Of Beverly, who had been. Of Elisabetta, who’d run thousands of miles from his dangerous world. Of Lia, so sweet and trusting that his world wasn’t the only threat she faced. Of Lorenzo, his only son, thought by many to be his true intended heir.
Nothing could be further from the truth. He wanted to keep his children untouched by his world. And he continued to fail.
“We don’t target innocents,” he said again.
“Capisco e sono d’accordo, Nick. But don’t trust Cuccia to be the same. That family has a long history of taking their shit out on women and children. It’s the reason my family came to the States in the first place. It’s difficult to win a war against an enemy who will do anything to win, unless you are the same.”
“No,” Nick insisted. “Our cause is just, and our war will be as well. We don’t target innocents.”
Sal conceded the point with a nod and a lift of his hand.
“Then it’s the pipeline,” Frank said. “There’s nothing else.”
Nick considered the people at the table with him and felt the shift in their feeling. None of them was as set against drugs as he in the first place, and now, with this hard news about New Jersey, their resistance had softened more. Finally, he turned to Donnie, his only true advisor at this large table.
Donnie closed his eyes and tipped his head subtly down, the barest suggestion of a nod. Nick understood—and, he supposed, he finally agreed.
He faced the table again. “Let’s talk about how letting them on the pipeline works.”
As the council formed a plan, Nick had the sinking certainty that this change would be the one that finally destroyed him.
~ 10 ~
Lia was lonely. Also bored. Also depressed.
She hadn’t seen Alex since he’d left her Monday afternoon. Yesterday morning, it had been David there to help her finish packing up the things she didn’t want Pagano men pawing over, and David who’d followed her home. David said he didn’t know about Alex and seemed uncomfortable at even the mention of his name.
She hadn’t heard from Alex until she texted him from home, asking if he was okay—and terrified what it could mean if he didn’t respond. So many scary things it could mean. That fear had kept her from texting until the afternoon.
But he’d responded right away: I’m okay. Can’t talk now. Hope to soon, tho.
The message settled some fears, stirred up others, and raised a lot of questions. He hadn’t been in touch again to assuage any of it, so it was becoming a tornado of insecurity rampaging all through her.
He’d been so sweet and wonderful Monday afternoon. So handsome and strong, such a beautiful body. Such amazing hands. Mouth. Other parts. The actual sex part had hurt—not as much as some books she’d read had led her to believe, but more than she’d been able to hide, enough that she was still sore. But before it? She’d never felt that good before. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel that good. And there were even hints in the sex part that it could feel like that, too, eventually. She’d certainly loved watching Alex enjoy it.
Everything had been so nearly perfect, except for that weird thing when he’d almost left her while she was still naked. But that was partly, even mostly, her fault. She should have told him he was her first. Ahead of time.
But why, though? What did that have to do with him?
That question popped up every time she thought of the moment he’d almost left, and the fear and self-loathing she’d nearly drowned in. Why did her virginity matter? It was her choice when to have sex for the first time. In fact, Alex himself had ensured it would be her choice, when he’d stopped Jackson from doing what he’d meant to do.
But of course, she knew why it mattered to Alex that she’d been a virgin—the same reason it