Luciano fiddles with the screen. “Not anymore. Blocked the GPS signal. It’s still pinging with the cell tower, though as far as I know, you need a warrant to access that kind of shit—”
“Hand it over.”
He slaps the phone onto my outstretched palm. “So what now?”
“These contacts,” I say over him as I scan the most recent calls. “Any of these sound familiar?”
I hold up the screen to him. Squinting, he reads the first few names, and his eyes narrow.
“Paulie Vanetti,” he says. “But… He’s a fixer but crazy as fuck. Tony rarely used him. He could be sloppy, and expensive as hell—”
“Sloppy enough to cripple a child and attempt to murder a pregnant woman?” I ask.
“Shit!” His eyes widen, and he shakes his head, whistling through his teeth. “He didn’t…”
“So you can see why I paid Tony a visit last night,” I say, flicking the cigar to knock the ash on the floor. “The fucker tried to frame me. Did frame me.”
He nods. “But I wasn’t kidding about expensive. Likes to be paid upfront too. If you can’t tell, Tony liked to play the big shot, but he couldn’t amass that kind of cash on a whim. If he was working with Paulie, you can bet your ass someone else was footing the bill.”
“Makes sense,” I say.
It isn’t unheard of for a bigger player to cover his tracks behind a patsy. If Antonio needed cash, how badly? Badly enough to play the role of a puppet. The real question is, who would have the balls to put him up to it…
I’ve been out of the game for a long damn time, but I doubt either the Saleris or any of the local gangs would have the capital to pull something like this off. An outside player?
“This Paulie,” I say. “You know where to find him?”
He shrugs, crossing his arms. “No, but you have his number. Call him.”
I weigh the benefits of doing so now. “Any other day, that might sound like a setup. Think he might be expecting my call?”
“Fuck me.” Luciano laughs, raising his hands in mock defeat. “I doubt he knows Tony’s dead, if that’s what you mean. We’ve kept it under wraps, so far. Kept the staff from his house. Covered for any meetings he had today. Just until we can come to…an arrangement.”
“You’ve bought time,” I say, impressed despite myself. Maybe they all aren’t as dumb as Antonio.
“At least a day, maybe two tops,” he says, nodding. “The boys know to stick around. No one comes in. No one goes out.”
I know what he has the tact not to say—he’s done it for morale. To keep what little is left of the famiglia from scattering and to stave off any vultures who might come sniffing around whatever Antonio left behind.
If I were a gloating man, I’d state the obvious. As fate would have it, my old outfit needs me just as much as I need it.
“Call him,” I suggest. “On Antonio’s behalf. See if you can lure him here. Discreetly. And do what you can to keep the tragic news from breaking a while longer.”
“And what will you do?” he demands. “I can only buy us another day at most. Someone will notice when Antonio isn’t swaggering around town, throwing money left and right. And I’m sure he kept me out of the loop on many of his dealings.”
“Me?” I turn my head just enough to see myself in that damn mirror. The longer I stare, the less I recognize the figure looking back. If Vin could see me now, he’d make some dumbass quip. “You look like hell, Uncle Don. Sober isn’t a good look on you. I’d stick to the booze…”
God, that kid would have never made it past Giovanni’s doorstep. The old man would have smelled the goodness on him. Rather than fight, Vin’s primary instinct in any situation was to crack a joke. Aim for a laugh. Where some men saw only power and control, Vin saw a world in need of saving.
But when it came down to it, I couldn’t even save him. Hell, I can’t even face knowing if he’s still alive...
“Don?” Luciano waves his hand in front of my face. “You with me, here?”
While dragging on the cigar, I stare down at my own hands, flexing them in and out of fists. These fingers can kill. Maim. Bleed. Yet, when it came down to it, they couldn’t even feel Vin’s neck for a fucking pulse.
I reach over and fish Antonio’s name plaque from the trash and use it as a makeshift ashtray, setting the cigar on top of it.
“Don?” Luciano prods.
“Give me a minute,” I say, flattening my palms over the armrests of the chair.
He scoffs. “Because we have all the time in the fucking world to just sit around and—”
“That wasn’t a request. A minute.”
He holds my gaze for only a second before turning on his heel. “You’ve got it. Take your minute. I’ll go feed our ‘guests,’ and then contemplate if I’ve just cosigned the entire famiglia to the whims of a fucking madman.”
He slams the door while I lift the cell phone and type out a number by heart. Like a fucking coward, I still hesitate before finally starting the call.
Unsurprisingly, it’s answered after only one ring. “Botelli.”
I suck in a breath at the sound of that voice. He sounds so fucking old. Not only that, but I can tell he’s been chain-smoking from the hoarseness. I feel like I’m channeling Vin as I say, “You need a drink, Fab.”
“Don?” He curses, and a wave of commotion comes from the other end as if he just knocked something over. “Fuck! Mary Mother of God. Where are you? Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been? What the hell were you thinking, sending some punk ass to inform me I’m off your accounts. You owe me more than that—”
“I know. I know,” I snap. Still, I can’t escape the shame I feel like a bitch slap. I’ve never heard him this fucking frantic. “Just, please… Tell me how Vin is.”
“Vin… He’s still alive,” he says hoarsely. “But I won’t lie to you, Donatello. He needs more care than I can provide him. He needs you.”
“More care?” My head is spinning. “I thought you had a doctor.”
“I do,” he says. “But he needs a safe facility to operate in, and a skilled staff—more people than I can easily blackmail. Mischa and his allies are on red alert. I know they’re tracking me. Hell, I’m surprised they haven’t dragged me before him by now, thinking I know your whereabouts.”
“Fuck! Have they tried an attack?” I ask, already rising to my feet. What the hell could I do from here? I don’t know. But there has to be something. Anything.
“Not yet,” he says cautiously. “But he’s commandeered the best hospital in the city for his own family. My doctor can keep him alive, but it will be hard to get Vin the care he needs otherwise.”
“The hospital…” There’s only one nearby worth going to. Mercy, I think, is the name. If Mischa has it on lockdown, there’s no way in hell they’d admit a Vanici. Not to mention it’s in the heart of Saleri territory. Even as the cons mount up, I know there isn’t another option. “I’ll find a way to get him there.”