“Crushed windpipe,compound fractures to the ribcage, left and right forearms, dislocated shoulder, and based on the level of damage I can assess to his skull, I’d say there is clear evidence of a cerebral hemorrhage.” Doc lets out a sigh and turns toward me and Duke. “He took quite a beating. Any idea who did it?”
I walk toward the portable table where Carlo lies—motionless, bloody, and bruised. “No eyewitnesses,” I reply, avoiding the question. I know the answer, but without real proof… I rake a hand through my hair, averting my eyes from Carlo’s swollen, blueish-gray face.
How the fuck can I look Carlo’s wife in the eye and tell her I don’t know who did this to her husband? How I let the love of her life get pummeled by the hand of some sick bastard? How I could put him on the radar like some selfish asshole who couldn’t do his own dirty work? How I let him walk into the lion’s den with a fucking raw steak, knowing he’d be mauled before he got the chance to drop it?
“Does his family know?” Doc pulls off his latex gloves and tosses them into a nearby trash can.
“We’re going to his house now.” I rub the back of my neck, but the knot that has taken up residence there refuses to move. I glance at Carlo. I’d say it could be worse, but who the fuck am I kidding? It will be much fucking worse, sooner than later.
I bend down to pick up Carlo’s jacket and a folded-up piece of paper falls out of the inside pocket. I grab it before it hits the floor, and I stuff it into my back pocket before the other guys can see it. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it. But my gut tells me it was meant for my eyes only.
Duke rises from the couch in the corner of the room. “Thanks, Doc.”
Doc nods, a somber expression on his face. “Carlo was a good man. A loyal man. He didn’t deserve this.”
No, he fucking didn’t. Wrong, place, wrong time, wrong all the fuck around.
“Doc, do you need anything else, or can you handle it from here?”
Doc scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “I’ll take care of it and make the arrangements tomorrow. We should have everything squared away in a day or so.”
“Thanks. Keep this off the radar, Doc. I don’t want it to leak yet.” I clap him on the back and nod at Duke. “Get the car. I have to make a call before we leave.”
I follow Duke out of the room and watch as he exits the club. I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Rocco.
Take Shaye to my place in the Village. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming. Whatever you do, keep her out of Jersey.
Luca will expect her to be at my house. He won’t think about staking out my apartment here in the city, mainly because I just bought it, few people know about it, and it’s protected by armed guards. A second later, my phone pings with a reply.
What about the club?
I stab the keyboard and click send. Let Max close tonight. Tell him you’re taking her to my house in Jersey.
Why?
Just fucking do as I say. And tell Max to keep this quiet.
I can’t fucking trust anyone anymore, not even my best friend. Rocco took a bullet for me the night I popped Cappodamo. He went head to head with that asshole for me. That earned him a lot of fucking respect.
But Max…he’s a loose cannon. I never know what he’s gonna say or do. And he’s always looking to climb the ranks and stomp on whoever gets in his way. I can’t take a chance that he’ll open his big-ass mouth to the wrong person…that person being his asshole father, Tony.
And I don’t want Tony involved. Yet. Even though it’s his daughter who’s in the line of fire.
No, I need answers first. In the meantime, I have to keep this shit on lockdown.
I pull the piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it. My pulse throbs against my throat as my eyes read the words scribbled on the paper, carelessly torn from a spiral notebook. An icy sensation blasts through my veins, frosting my insides.
You dumb fuck. So desperate to get pictures of me for your boss, huh? I bet they came out better than the ones I just took of you, cocksucker.