Was it asking too much to expect their silence for a wad of Christmas cash? Maybe. But if that cash came with a promise to handle the problem, and make sure it didn’t keep happening, I was pretty sure neighborhood morale would improve.
“It would mean you have to go to church today, boss,” Vissi said. “You sure you’re up for that?”
Honestly, I wasn’t.
I felt like shit.
But that church had been there for me in some of my lowest times growing up.
It would be good for me to go, to get an uplifting message.
On top of that, I never missed Christmas mass.
I was only disappointed that I couldn’t bring Isabella with me.
But she needed to be home, where I could at least guarantee that no one could get to her. At least not without there being a fuckuva lot of shooting that would draw my attention anyway.
“Alright. Get the cards and the cash. And some extra hands. We don’t have a lot of time.”
With that, we set to work stuffing envelopes.
“Nope, doesn’t look suspicious at all,” Vissi said, shaking his head as we each picked up the giant bags we’d had to stash all the cards in.
I was leaving Dawson and Dulles with Isabella, then several other guards around the building, as well as the scouts who’d volunteered to miss Christmas morning with their families to help me make sure that the whole neighborhood stayed safe.
She was safer than Vissi and I were going to be.
But that was okay.
I’d rather have the guards on her, not me.
At least I knew that if I got taken out, someone would get her home safe to her people, and they would be able to keep her safe.
So, Vissi and I sat through mass. I said a prayer for my brother. And then we stood at the doors, handing out the cash as everyone left.
No gunshots. No nothing.
Everything was fine.
Or so I thought.
Until I rode the elevator up to my floor, expecting to excuse my brothers, then take Isabella upstairs with me. To get in bed. To talk. Or just sleep.
I just needed a break.
To process.
To sleep.
To get back on my game.
“Isabella?” I called as I walked into the living room.
I didn’t immediately think anything of it. It was hard to hear if she was in the tub or the shower. She’d rushed downstairs to look for me first thing that morning, so she hadn’t had time then to get ready.
But then shit started not to line up.
Like Dawson and Dulles were nowhere to be found, either. And it wasn’t like there was a whole lot of space in the apartment for them to disappear into. I doubted they were both using the can at the same time.
What the fuck was going on?
“Isabella?” I called, something inside of me telling me to run.
So I did, tearing up the stairs to the second floor, bursting into the bedroom.
Finding nothing, I turned toward the bathroom, my stomach clenching hard as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had no reason to think it yet, but a part of me knew something had gone down.
Taking a deep breath, I moved into the bathroom.
And there it was.
Proof of a struggle.
Isabella’s clothes from earlier had been put into the hamper, but the pair of pants and sweater she must have set out for herself for after the shower were spread across the middle of the floor. Her makeup case had spilled all over the counter.
And there was blood on the floor.
There was fucking blood on the floor.
I wasn’t even aware of the roar ripping through me at that moment, but it must have, because not a minute later, Vissi was running into the room, gun drawn.
“What happened?” Vissi asked.
“They’re gone. They’re all gone. And she was bleeding,” I said, waving toward the floor.
“How the fuck could someone get in or out without any of the other guards seeing?” Vissi asked.
I didn’t know either, but I tore down the stairs and down to the ground to ask just that.
“Who fucked up?” I yelled, slamming the guard there into the wall. “Did you run off to go get some cookies and milk or something? Who was not on their guard?” I screamed.
“Isabella is gone,” Vissi said, translating my anger. “And so are Dawson and Dulles.”
“Dawson and Dulles left not long after you went to mass,” the guard, said, brows pinched, looking confused.
“The fuck do you…” I started, then released him as shit started to come to me.
“They said you texted them to check out a lead on the shooting, and to make sure no one went inside,” the guard continued, but I was barely hearing him.
“No,” Vissi said, shaking his head, mind going in the same direction as mine.
But yes.
Absolutely fucking yes.
The night of the break-in that had Isabella sitting in the closet shaking and me shot, Dawson and been right there, but not Dulles. He hadn’t shown up until almost half an hour later. And the shooting the night before? Dawson hadn’t been there until the shooting was over.