The Woman in the Trunk - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,77

me.

He might have sent someone to finish the job had Chris not called Emilio, getting him to stand at my side night and day in that hospital.

So good riddance to bad rubbish and all of that.

"How are you feeling really?" Emilio asked as I leaned back against the counter, taking a breath.

"I have a headache. And I'm hungry. I just need to get my strength up. Another day or two, and I will feel normal again."

"Glad to hear it. I know you have been waiting for this day for a long time. Kinda sucks that you were in limbo for a good part of it instead of being able to jump right in."

"It's alright. I'll catch up.

"I know you will. You were born for this."

"How many of those guys do you think have secrets like Paulie had?" I asked, cracking my neck.

"That particular secret? I hope to fuck none. But I don't know. I guess you never do. But that's why we have Brio," he declared, handing me my coffee.

"Speaking of. Where the fuck was he? I didn't see him out there?"

"I'm not sure. I know your father's guys said they saw him the night of his death, but not since. Then again, I wasn't keeping tabs on him either."

"Okay. Well, call him in. We need his particular skill set."

"On it. We have to order food in. There's nothing here to eat."

"Alright," I agreed as the house started to burst to life, everyone going into rooms, taking everything that wasn't bolted to the walls down, looking behind pictures, checking inside clocks, drawers, under loose floorboards.

Anything questionable got brought to me.

Dozens of guns of unknown origins were put up on the table to be gotten rid of. I didn't know what might have been done with them, and I didn't want my father's sins on my back. Or rap sheet.

Money was, of course, left with me to squirrel back away when no one was looking. Though everyone who was busting their ass was going to get a stack or two before they went home for the night.

I wasn't above bribing loyalty if I needed to at first. Money always has been and always will be a powerful motivator.

I had trouble sleeping those first two nights.

I wanted to say it was because there was so much to do, so many people to see, so many fires to be put out.

But in the quiet moments when no one was around to command something from me, I could admit the truth to myself.

I was having trouble sleeping because I had no idea where she was, if she was okay, if she even knew I was alive.

Christopher had made no progress.

If she had gotten away on her own accord, she had done so completely. She hadn't shown up at the bakery, at her apartment, at her father's place.

She was a ghost.

And I felt her haunting me in those quiet moments when sleep was supposed to claim me. I needed rest. Food and coffee had managed to keep me going, built my strength up, but I knew I would be for shit if I didn't get some sleep.

I had a sneaking suspicion, though, that I wouldn't get a full, restful night of sleep until I knew what became of her.

Even if that meant she had started a new life out in California and wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.

Or, at least, that was what I was telling myself.

Even though a part of me knew I needed her there at my side.

My brain flashed back to the basement, to the terror on her face. But not for herself. For me.

She gave a shit.

She cared.

She wanted me to live.

I knew that, had I not gotten shot, if I had gotten her out of that basement, even if she went back to bakery, we would be pulled back together.

Something had started there.

Something neither of us was ready to give up.

"It's done," Emilio told me first thing the next morning.

He'd taken up residence in my old childhood bedroom, staying close, and I was surprised how little I resented the intrusion.

After all the shit that had happened in the past few weeks, I was glad to have someone I could trust right there when I needed him.

We'd sworn in his little brother Anthony a day before, and he had shown his loyalty by agreeing to go out and kill my father's old consigliere, Terry.

Eighteen was young by most standards, but I had blood on my hand for the first time