“She’s fuckin’ seventeen, man. Angel said she turns eighteen the day after Christmas.”
He blew out a breath.
“I don’t know what the fuck she’s been through. Angel’s come a long way but she still has a long way to go, you know? How the fuck do I tell her that her sister is in the hands of a sick fucker and that we don’t even know what that girl has endured in the past two years? We might not be able to do a damn thing about it unless we piss off a whole lotta people and put the whole family at risk? We have to fuckin’ do something about it, bro. This guy is around our age but if he’s like his father?”
I was back that day at Pop’s when we talked about rescuing Tia from the clutches of Castillo. I was insisting we not play when it was Tommy’s new fiancée. And now here I was, the other side of the argument, pleading a case and arguing that we do whatever it took to save not even my wife but my wife’s sister.
“We will,” he told me, “Don’t you worry. We’ll do whatever we have to do to make sure Angel’s little sister is all right. This is family. It’s all that matters.”
“Fuck. That’s what Pop’d say,” I thrust my hand through my hair. And then my eyes met my brother’s. “We’re both chips off that block in some ways, Tommy, but it doesn’t mean---”
“Let’s just hope the same can be said for Romero,” Tommy’s expression darkened.
“There’s something else you need to know,” I started, wincing.
“What?”
“When was the last time you talked to your counselor?”
“Before your wedding. Why?”
“He’s a fed, too. Lisa was with him during her retreat, which was more of a de-briefing by the sounds of it. Zack questioned her and that task force interrogated her. They’re gonna put her on the stand when all of this is over unless they can do it in a way to keep the Ferrano name out of it. We have a lot to talk about.”
Tommy’s lip curled.
“How much information has he gotten from you?”
“Other than that I shot our father in the head out of self-defense? That I’ve got a violent streak? Very little,” Tommy hissed acidly. “I talked in code a lot. Skirted facts, gave him information without direct admissions. But that doesn’t make a difference. That fucker has more than he should have. Dunno if patient-doctor confidentiality is a factor, probably, but still: even if it doesn’t make it into court, the info he used can be used against me in other ways. And the fucker’s gonna pay. He’s reached out three times since your wedding but I’ve ignored him. Once I knew Zack was a fed I immediately put my guard up with Oliver since Zack hooked the two of us up.”
I didn’t know what he was gonna do about this. He said he was gonna sit on the info for a bit and mull it over. We had enough shit on our plates as it was.
***
I headed back to the condo and said goodbye to the guard who met me at the elevator and gave me a run down. He had another guard outside, watching the building. Nothing out of the ordinary at home. Inside, I found Angel curled up on the sofa, asleep with her Kindle in her drooping hand, a half-eaten sandwich on a plate on the cushion beside her. I leaned over and put it on the coffee table and then lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.
She smiled as I laid her down in bed and climbed in beside her.
“Hi,” she whispered sweetly.
I gently pulled the elastic out of her hair and watched her fiery curls tumble down around her shoulders. Fuck, but I loved her curls.
“Wanna fool around?” she asked me and chewed her bottom lip.
“Mm,” I took my blazer and tie off, “Always. But we have to talk about a few things. Maybe we oughta get that outta the way first.”
Her expression sobered. “Or let’s fool around first and then tell me the bad news? Wait…it’s not your sister, is it?”
“Tess is okay. We’re getting her back. As for the fooling around, you’re probably gonna need it in the middle of this news,” I said and her expression dropped. We both knew what that meant.
I took my shirt off and stripped down to my boxers and got into bed and pulled her close, arranging the blankets over us.
Normally, I avoided all negative talk about her triggers and her outbursts in order to deter them from happening. She knew she was under orders from me to not have meltdowns in public and her having those orders seemed to help keep her even-keeled.
But twice so far in our short time together, I ordered her to let it go in private. She’d held firm and strong so many times that I’d worried I was doing something bad in getting her to bury it.
So, I gave her a safe place where she could let it out. Where she could cry or tremble, or where I’d encourage her to tell me what she was thinking, what her bad dreams were about. She never said much about her thoughts, sometimes she opened up with vagueness. Sometimes she just cried herself to sleep tucked tight to me after begging for what she needed, whether it was sexual, spankings, cuddling.
I hoped I was doing the right thing.