“Did you bring a car?” Salvatore asked, looking at me.
“Nah.” I usually only used it when I had business outside of the city. Or when I had a body to transport.
“I don’t have one,” Salvatore said, wincing.
And Ant couldn’t drive.
“Oh, so now I am useful after all,” Mira said, brow raising. “Fine. Come on. Where are you going? The brownstone?”
“Yeah,” Salvatore agreed as he walked over to help Ant make his way to the door.
“I’ll try really hard not to hit any potholes,” Mira said, smiling as her brother’s face went a little gray. “But this city is just filled with them,” she added with the kind of sadistic glee it seemed you could only find amongst siblings.
With that, we were off across town to Lorenzo’s place, finding several familiar cars already parked out front.
So it was a whole meeting.
The hair on the back of my neck said it was probably about Eren.
And I had no fucking idea how I was going to approach the situation.
I probably should have copped to the murder already, but my mind had been occupied with other things.
Like the woman I killed for flinching away from me like she wanted nothing to do with me.
Like the fact that, despite knowing she didn’t want me, not being able to think of anything but her.
“Yo, you coming?” Salvatore asked, looking back at me. “You know something about this?” he asked as we made our way up the steps, letting Mira help Ant since she’d been the one to jostle him around while she drove us to Lorenzo’s place.
“Figure it is about Eren being dead,” I said, then moved ahead of him to not have to answer any other questions.
Inside, we found everyone gathered around the long dining room table.
The scent of fresh coffee and red sauce had me bypassing the gathering and heading to the kitchen first.
“Hey there, mama,” I said to Giana who was trying to soothe a wriggling, whining baby on her lap. “What’s up with him?” I asked, nodding to the kid.
“Nothing. He is absolutely fine. Not a damn thing wrong with him, so do not buy him an animal,” Giana demanded. “I repeat: he does not need a pet. He needs something to chew on,” she added, trying to push a teether toy into his mouth.
Yeah, I guess I did sort of get myself a reputation for being a pet dealer in the Family.
I got Via Grassi that cat.
Alessa the rabbit.
And Isabella and Primo the dog.
Then there was that thing with the guinea pig, the snake, and the trio of hermit crabs.
“Kids need something to grow up with.”
“Okay, while I don’t disagree, I am begging you to hold out until he at least has all his baby teeth in,” Giana said, looking worn out.
“Think I can manage that,” I agreed, nodding.
“You can always trust a man to follow his stomach to the kitchen,” Celeste, Lorenzo’s mother, said, leaning over to kiss my cheek as she stirred the pasta sauce.
“Oh, stop all your bellyaching!” Mira called down the hall as she moved into the kitchen.
“Anthony’s stomach still bothering him?” Celeste asked.
“He pulled a stitch getting up the steps,” Mira said. “Hey, G,” she said, nodding at Giana.
“Hey, do you mind taking the baby for a minute?” Giana asked, getting to her feet and moving toward Mira.
“What? No. Oh, no no no,” Mira said, holding up her hands. “You don’t want me to do that. I dragged my brother up the stairs too fast and made him pull a stitch. And you want to trust me with something that has a skull that hasn’t fused yet? I don’t think so. Give him to Brio,” she demanded, pointing at me.
“Come on. I know you’ve held your sister’s baby,” Giana said, holding her baby outward toward Mira in little pulse-like motions, teasing her.
“That kid is just built different, that’s why. He just sits there and stares at you like he knows all your deepest, darkest secrets, and is silently judging you for them. Look… it’s leaking,” she said, pointing toward the baby’s face.
“He’s drooling because he’s teething,” Giana said, shooting Mira a big smile. “There you go,” she added, pressing her kid into a horrified Mira’s arms.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Take it,” Mira said, moving toward me.
“Nah, man. I got a meeting to get to,” I said, grabbing my cup of coffee, and skating around her to make my way back into the dining room.
Across the room, Lorenzo’s gaze met mine, a frown line between his brows.
Did he suspect like Salvatore did?
Or was he more confused about why he heard about the murder on the news, not from me, who was supposed to be watching him?
“Alright. By now, I’m sure everyone has heard the news,” Lorenzo said, making all the mixed conversations stop. “Eren Polat was killed. As was his driver. Which fixes one problem, yet creates another,” he said, looking over at Emilio.