His (The Sabatini Family 1)

“Sir, I have a file on everyone who matters in this country and forty-two others. Luca Toro matters. He’s a good man with a deep, abiding hatred of men who traffic women. The smart ones don’t even go through Vegas, let alone stop there anymore. He has a tendency to send them on their way without their dicks. It’s not in the file but his favorite color is green, he tells people his favorite food is Italian but he actually prefers Chinese with his favorite dish Kung Pao chicken, and he has a weakness for tall, leggy, blondes.”

He clears his throat. “It’s in your email now. I want to apologize. I made the assumption you were aware, considering you are in the same crime family and the resemblance was glaring. As far as Taylor, there will be no bill. We failed you, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine. Thank you for the file.”

I connect my phone to Pop’s printer and hit send. His office door is open, we can hear it going in the quiet of the house.

“This Valdez, he’s the one.”

Nodding, I look through the file on Luca. I’ve suggested Valdez to Pop in the past but Pop shook off the idea. “There is no one or nothing he can’t find. If I stop to think about it too long it’s fucking spooky. But it’s what I need, so I don’t think about it.”

We hear the printer stop. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him hesitate in my life. “You want me to get it?”

Shaking his head, he moves. “Pour me a drink.”

My phone buzzes with a text, it’s Vincent. He’s with Carlo’s man as they pick up Luca at the airport. They’ll be here in twenty minutes. I look to Pop. Christ, he looks like shit. We went through Luca’s file about a dozen times a piece, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Every word is burned into my brain. Pop has been mostly quiet. When he got to the page where there was a report of child services following up with Al Toro after Luca was in the ER with a broken arm, there was a flash of anger, but nothing since.

From everything we read, Luca as a capo was exactly what I’d heard: fair, good, and charismat

ic, pretty much what Pop would have wanted his son to be. Luca also has a flair for the dramatic and a finesse with the death of his enemies that had Pop frowning. However, given Al, it was surprising he was as restrained as he was. Every murder he ordered had meaning and reason behind it, which wasn’t as common as it should be in the Outfit.

I get another text, they’re here. My eyes meet Pop’s, the front door opens, the sound of steps on the hardwood floors grows louder. The house is empty, does Luca detect it?

“Carlo?” The voice is eerily reminiscent of Anthony Junior’s. I watch Pop wince.

The door is pushed open. I’m looking into a mirror, except for a scar on his chin, and his eyes are brown, like Anthony Junior’s.

He goes still, his eyes go to Pop, and widen.

Pop clears his throat. “Anthony Sabatini, your father. I’m sorry. I didn’t know, if I had I would never have allowed what you endured. I’m sorry.”

Luca closes his eyes, shakes his head then opens them again. “Quel che e fatto, e fatto.”

I watch Pop’s eyes glitter with tears at the words, what’s done is done. It’s spooky, Pop must have said it a hundred thousand times to me and Anthony Junior as we were growing up.

He offers his hand to Pop. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Pop takes his hand then pulls him in for a hug. For a heartbeat Luca is stiff. My lungs freeze until, with a sigh, he returns Pop’s hug.

20

Regina

Even as I do it I know I’m going to regret it. It takes more than an hour to move everything of mine back to my room. When the alert goes off for the elevator, I’m carrying the last of my underwear. That’s how Dominic finds me, trying to get back down the hall.

“What are you doing?” He’s daring me to say it.

Fuck him. Where has he been for the last six hours? “Moving my stuff back to my room.”

His jaw clenches, his eyes drop from mine as he studies the floor in front of him. “If that’s what you want.” He exhales the words.

No, it’s not what I want. It’s what I need to survive this. I watch as he turns around and leaves again.

Where is he going? I tell myself I don’t care. I did the right thing. Yet I can’t help but wonder if I screwed up all over again.

***

Regina