When I hang up, Al chokes, “Who...did it?”
I look around the room with meaning because there’s no telling if the Feds have wired this room already, and Al catches on and closes his eyes, understanding we can’t talk.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Sophie says tactfully. “I’ll be back in a few.”
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. When I see it’s Ned, I flick an eyebrow at Al and show him the screen. I open the message file and glance at the attached photo.
Sonofabitch.
An icy flame scorches me from the inside out. It’s a grainy photo–the kind taken off a security camera, but it shows Sammy sitting across the table from the Matrangas in their restaurant.
My throat tightens. I turn the phone around to show Al. His upper lip curls.
Even though I strongly suspected Sammy, seeing proof of his betrayal sets off a geyser of rage. Fifteen years I ran that club with Sammy, and sure, we haven’t been as close lately, but to sell us out like this…
“I’ll take care of it,” I say.
Al’s awake, he’s out of his coma, but he’s in no condition to handle this. He gives a single nod of approval.
Sophie comes back in, and I tuck the phone away. I don’t want any of this to touch her.
Ever.
“Take Carlo,” Al says, and I nod. He gives Sophie a weak smile. “Thank you, Sophie. You brought me back.”
She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re with us again.”
Al catches her hand and examines the engagement ring I was proud to see back on her finger this morning. “What’s this?”
Sophie shrugs, a smile twisting her lips. “I’m back in the Family. And you’re going to be an uncle.”
“No shit,” Al says softly, his eyes drifting closed again.
“We’ll let you rest,” she says softly.
“I’ll be back when it’s done,” I tell him.
We walk out, and Sophie slips her hand in mine. “I don’t want to know what that was about–obviously. But I just want to say that I hope you kick some serious ass.”
I cup her nape and pull her toward me to kiss her forehead. “Thank you,bella.”
Joey
I text Carlo, Sammy, Pauly and Bobby to meet me at the parking garage at midnight. They know what that means. To come armed. Ready for battle.
I don’t involve anyone else.
“What’s the score?” Carlo asks. His deadly battle mask is on.
Sammy looks wary, like he knows it’s a trap. He’s right, of course.
Bobby and Pauly are all business, checking weapons, expressions blank.
“We’re going in heavy on the Matranga’s at their restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen. We’ll wait until after close. I don’t want any collateral damage.”
Ned came through for me, providing me with the routine schedule for the restaurant and giving me the location of the security cameras on the street and in the building. I now know what time they close, when their employees leave, and that the heavies in the organization drink there after hours most nights.
Carlo considers. “Will they be there? The right ones, I mean.”