I give her a look in the rearview mirror that says no shit, Sherlock.
“As if you should talk about illegal,” I mutter under my breath. “Save the lecture, princess.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Princess is the most pedantic, insulting term of endearment ever.”
“Ah,” I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “You thought that was a term of endearment. Nah, babe, that was condescension. See, I know how to use those pricy words, too.”
Her eyes flash at me before she gives me a bleak, tight-lipped glare and looks out the window. She doesn’t bother to respond. I’m surprised to realize I’m a little disappointed.
I wanted to hear her voice again.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask the asshole she’s with if he’s gonna fill us in on what we can expect with a police raid, but his eyes are cold and merciless, and I already know from experience he won’t say shit without the threat of torture and pain.
If that’s how we have to play it, then okay, though I’d much rather tie up and torture the girl.
“You gonna fill me in about who you are and what your plan was?”
I don’t miss the furtive glance Vivia sends toward him.
“Yeah, why don’t you fill us in,” she mutters.
Interesting. As if she didn’t know what he was up to, or is this part of the game?
I drive down the now-empty road in the opposite direction of where I should be going, and tap my phone on the dash. “Call one.”
I’ve got Orlando saved to speed dial, and never use names in my contacts. He answers on the first ring
“Hey, brother,” he says warmly. I catch Vivia’s eyes light up with recognition before she shutters them again. She has a past with the Rossis I need to dig into, and soon. “Hear you’ve got one of my favorite cousins in your possession.”
Possession. I fucking wish.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice tight. “Got some trouble, though. I’ve got two in my possession, highway’s gridlocked, Romeo wants me to take them someplace off the grid until I can get them back to The Castle.”
“You being followed?” he asks.
I look again out the window. It’s easier to tell now that we’re out of the main line of traffic. “No.”
The guy behind me chuckles, a bone-chilling laugh that makes me want to haul him over the back of this seat and break his neck. When I get him out of this car, he’ll answer for that. I grit my teeth and take another turn. Glance back in the rearview mirrors. Still nothing.
“Take ‘em to Eatalia,” he says. “Closed early, staff’s gone home. I’ll text you the lock code to get in.”
When Orlando and I first met, it was behind bars, serving time. The day he flew the coop thanks to Romeo’s connections, he told me to call him when I got out, told me he’d get me a better job than grand theft auto. When I got out, he was the first person I called and he took me straight to Eatalia, his restaurant in the North End.
“Aw, gettin’ all nostalgic on me,” I say, grinning despite the fact that I’ve got hostages, we could be followed, and I’ve got a shit ton of interrogation ahead of me. Orlando’s the brother I never had.
He snorts. “Sentimental my ass. We’ve got a meat locker that locks from the outside there, it’s where I keep all the fresh imports and butcher deliveries.”
“Classic. Thanks, bro.”
I hang up the phone and bang a right. We’re only a few blocks away from his restaurant. I look in the mirrors again to see no one’s following us, but the asshole’s staring at me in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head, as if warning me.
“What the fuck are you smiling about?” I ask him. Jesus, I’m gonna sober him the hell up when we park.
He looks out the window and doesn’t respond. I hazard a glance at Vivia, surprised to see there’s alarm written on her face, fear she’s barely containing. He looks over at her and shoots her a twisted smile, but she only shakes her head. What the hell is going on with these two?
I’ll wait to ask them until we’re safely inside.
I blow out a breath as I find the side alley entrance to Orlando’s restaurant. The lot’s empty, which is both good and bad. Bad, because it means our car will stand out like a sore thumb. Good, because it means we won't have an audience. But my sixth sense is triggered, and something tells me shit’s gonna go down soon.