I follow him out, Bianca hanging off my neck. “What are you going to do with me?” she wails as we start down the stairs.
“Nothing,” I say firmly.
“Al can keep you until we check out your dad’s story,” Il Diavolo says. “If he was lying, you’ll die like the rest of your family. If he was telling the truth… You’re Al’s problem then. Maybe he’ll put you to work at one of his clubs until you’ve paid off what Lou owes him.”
Damn. Luciani owed him money. No wonder he tried to take us out. He must have thought his debt would be erased if he got rid of one of the other families.
The remaining men gather in the little fenced yard. Al is bleeding from a cut on his cheek but otherwise fine. Three of the guys were killed, and one more is seriously injured. Il Diavolo has a cut on his side that I didn’t even notice, as he showed no reaction whenever he got it. The rest of us got away without injury. We pile into the SUVs, anxious to get out of there before more Luciani men show up. With the head cut off, either the family will fall or more likely, someone will rise to take his place immediately, and we don’t want to be there when a bunch of thirsty heirs show up to duke it out.
I end up in a car with Al, Il Diavolo, and Bianca, who has fallen silent and stares out the window with mascara running down her cheeks from her blank eyes. She’s probably in shock.
“You need to get that looked at?” Al asks Il Diavolo, who sits up front with him.
“I’ll stop by the chop shop later,” Il Diavolo responds.
We don’t discuss the findings until we’re back at Uncle Al’s. His housekeeper takes Bianca off to clean up, I assume, and the rest of us head into his office space downstairs. When we’re all seated around the table with the consigliere, Al speaks up.
“What information did you get from the late Luciani?” he asks.
I wait for Il Diavolo to speak, but he gestures a giant hand at the me, his other mitt holding a towel to his side. “It’s your moment, rookie,” he says. “Tell him.”
I clear my throat, not wanting to deliver this news and unable to keep from wondering if this is a shoot-the-messenger situation, and Il Diavolo knows it and doesn’t want to be the one to tell Al that his beloved grandson conspired to have him killed.
“He said Little Al tipped him off,” I say quietly.
Uncle Al doesn’t even bat an eye.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I add.
“Were you aware of this?” he asks.
My blood runs cold. I’m Little Al’s partner. Of course scrutiny falls on me. “No, sir.”
“Then don’t apologize,” he says. “He set up the meeting and wasn’t there when shots were fired. You joined at the last minute and took a hit for me. And I’m going to let you deal with him.”
I nod, gulping down the protest. It’s one thing to shoot the bastard who tried to have me killed and set up my wife’s family, trying to pit us against each other. Luciani’s another family. Little Al is a Valenti. And not only is he family, he’s my partner. Sure, he’s kind of a tool, but we’ve worked as a team for the past three months, since my first day on the job. It might as well have been my whole life. I’ve grown a lot, learned, and hardened to become a man who gets shit done, who does what he needs to survive. A lot of it is thanks to Little Al.
He taught me well.
So I used what he taught me. I nod, and I give the only answer that lets me live another day, go home to my wife, and try to be a better man tomorrow. “Yes, sir,” I say.
“He’s not answering his phone,” the consigliere says with a frown. “I’ll try his old lady.”
One of the men at the table grunts. “You think someone tipped him off?”
“We didn’t leave anyone alive to tip him off,” says Joey One-Eye.
“Did anyone take Bianca’s phone?” I ask.
There’s a long moment of tense silence while the consigliere calls Mrs. De Luca. After a brief conversation, he hangs up and shakes his head. “She says he left early this morning and she hasn’t heard from him since.”
“Son of a bitch,” Uncle Al curses quietly. “He was here for some of the planning to take down Luciani. He must have known he’d talk, and he ran like the coward he is.”
“He’ll be lying low, waiting to see if we succeeded,” the consigliere says.
“Need me to find him?” asks Il Diavolo, his voice a low rumble.
“We’ll find him, alright,” Al says, grimacing. “He’s a threat that needs to be eliminated.”