“Liam was a fucking SEAL. He has resources, and therefore so do I. I dug deep, saw some of what they’re into out in Vegas, where they come from. Drug running, prostitution, and illegal gambling schemes are just the tip of the iceberg.”
I didn’t speak. I didn’t have enough breath in my lungs. Not even because of what he’d said so far, but because of what I knew was coming. The unholy gleam in Slater’s eyes was all I needed to see to know he was going to bring me to my knees.
To the point I could no longer deflect, or deny.
“His older brother Dante is a consigliere in his father’s organization, and he’s wanted for murder. Giovanni was wanted for attempted murder, after his fiancée was gunned down in front of him—”
“No. Shut up. Stop.” I shoved his hands off my shoulders and cupped my palm over my mouth as I turned away. I couldn’t listen to this. I was going to being sick right here. “Please stop.”
“She was pregnant, Carly. She and the baby died, because of him. Because of what he was part of. And now he’s back at it again, except he switched sides. He’s going against his father now, and that means whomever gets too close will go down with him.” He grabbed my shoulder and spun me back. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re so sweet, and he’s a fucking bastard—”
“I love him. Okay? I love him.” Hearing the truth echo around me tore a sob from my chest, one that came without tears. It was the crying equivalent of a dry heave. All the racking shudders, none of the relief of release.
“Jesus, Car.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist and bent my head, letting my hair fall down to shield my face. I couldn’t process any of this. As bad as I’d known it was, this was even worse than I’d ever expected. “You don’t know what they did to us at the club. How they made him touch me.”
Slater gripped my chin and lifted it. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” I pulled away from him and rushed for the door. I couldn’t talk about this with him.
The person I needed to speak to was Gio. But since he wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know, I’d have to do some research of my own. At least I’d try to find out if Olivia truly was in Georgia like Slater seemed to think. If she was, that meant that whomever was hassling my sister was closer to home—and most likely, closer to Gio.
Would that be enough to make him turn away from Marco and Lorenzo and the rest? Or would he just leave us all twisting in the wind?
“Carly,” Slater called, sounding contrite. “Come back. I’m sorry. We’ll talk.”
I kept walking up the hall. Later, I’d worry about Slater. Right now, I needed to worry about my sister.
And myself.
Eighteen
That night, I waited through Carly’s sets at the club and drove her home instead of to my place. She didn’t have a lot to say, and I figured the break was a good thing.
It would be a permanent one soon enough.
That pattern of reduced communication didn’t change over the next week. I wasn’t surprised, what with her two jobs and school and studying, but I also wasn’t stupid. Her sudden busyness probably also had to do with finding out my apartment was loaded with weaponry.
As much as I wanted to let her go gracefully, I couldn’t. I had a special meeting with Marco and Lorenzo next Wednesday, and I had no idea what the result would be. I’d been pushing for more responsibility within the organization, hoping to get close enough to Roberto to be able to time his comings and goings. All I needed was an opening.
Classic bullet behind the ear, end of story. For him—and me.
But it wouldn’t be easy. Forget getting close to Roberto, I had enough trouble getting close to his underboss Lorenzo. I suspected this all went back to the conclusions I’d drawn at Mia and Fox’s office at The Cage. They didn’t trust me. This was likely all an elaborate setup, and Carly and I were pawns.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t use their own mistrust against them. I’d work whatever angle I was given. And whatever they threw at me at that meeting, I would throw back.
Saturday night, Carly finished dancing early, and as always, I was waiting. She’d done her shifts back to back instead of with a break in between, which meant she was free to leave the club earlier than usual.
What I should’ve done was drive her home and ensured she got inside safely. If she was shutting down, it was for the best. Prolonging the agony wouldn’t do either of us any favors.
Instead, I took her to the Fall Festival carnival I’d seen being held on a high school field in Brooklyn earlier that day.
We got there late, only about an hour before closing. Luckily, it didn’t shut down entirely until after midnight. Some of the game booths had gone dark, or were about to, but some were still open, as were most of the food stands and the rides. As uncommunicative as Carly had been for the past week, she perked up at the sight of rows of balloons just waiting to be popped and the brightly colored Ferris Wheel spinning in the cool, crisp night.
“Want to play or ride?” I asked, hoping to see her smile. It was frightening what lengths I’d go to in order to lessen the heaviness in her beautiful eyes.
Heaviness I’d put there, no doubt.