We refill our wine glasses and by the time my hands stop shaking, Carmine’s knocking. “Open up, it’s me,” he growls through the door.
I let him inside. He sweeps in, slams the door behind him, and locks it again. Without so much as a greeting, he stomps into the living room and checks every window, making sure they’re all closed and locked, and even sticks his head in the closet and in the bathroom.
“What the hell are you looking for?” I ask him, exasperated and anxious all over again. “There are no freaking gremlins hiding in my room, at least none that my father ripped off.”
“Making sure you’re safe.” He stomps into the living room, nods at Cassidy, and paces back and forth. Cassidy stares at him like she can barely understand what’s happening. Not that I can blame her—Carmine’s like a thunderstorm right now. I’m shocked there isn’t lightning crackling off his skin. He’s giving off heavy angry vibes and prowling like a protective lion, glaring around him like he might start breaking things to try to release some of his pent-up rage. But finally, he stops pacing long enough to accept a glass of wine from Cassidy.
“You haven’t told me who Stephen Panagos is yet,” I say and sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me. Cassidy sits on my right side, close enough that my foot touches her knee. “And you’re looking around like you want to burn the place down.”
“Panagos is a family.” He looks at me meaningfully. “Like mine.”
I let that slowly sink in. We all drink our wine and the silence is thick and heavy with uncertainty. “Mafia,” I whisper.
He glares at me. “They’re afamily.” He gives Cassidy a meaningful stare.
I wave that off. “Cassidy is fine, she knows who you are already.”
“Rumors get around,” she says sheepishly.
He takes a long breath through his nose and lets it out his mouth. When he’s marginally calmer, he looks at me again. “Tell me everything that guy said. In detail. Every word.”
I play him the video. He watches and it only stokes his anger even more. He paces for another five minutes before he’s together enough to speak, and when he does, he glares at me like he wants to rip my head off.
“Your father is a stupid piece of human shit,” he says slowly with a snarl. “Do you have any idea what you’re into right now?”
“No, I don’t, because you’re not telling me.”
“Panagos is afamily, Brice. A very dangerous, very connected, very violent fucking family.”
“Mobsters,” Cassidy says like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Greek crime lords, to be specific. They call themselves crime lords, I guess it makes more sense in their language, but it’s all very fucking melodramatic if you ask me. The fact is, the Panagos are very trigger happy, and if your father took money from them and lost it then he is very much fucked no matter what happens. Prison or not, he’s a dead man.”
I feel sick. The idea of my father getting hurt in prison is hellish, and I suddenly want to get out of here, run to the jail where they’re keeping him, and make sure he’s still okay. But that’s the child in me reacting. Daddy’s a grown man, he can handle himself, and I’ve got my own problems now, thanks to him.
“But why are they knocking on my door? I don’t have any money to give them.”
“You’re low-hanging fruit. They can’t mess with your grandfather since he’s at the manor and protected, but here you are in this little shitty apartment—”
“It’s not shitty,” I say indignantly and Cassidy gives him a hard glare.
“—And there’s nobody keeping you safe. Shitty or not, that isn’t the point. You’re unprotected here.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
He stares at me for a long moment before coming to a decision. “You’ll come stay in the hotel with me for tonight.”
I burst out laughing. It’s like this day can’t get any worse. I thought I was having some final hours with Cassidy, we’d pack together, watch a movie, make dinner, drink some wine, get really freaking drunk to numb the pain, and now he wants me to leave early.
All because of my father.
Everything goes back to what Daddy did.
Carmine stares at me, not smiling. When I get control of myself, I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he says calmly. “You want to get killed? Then sure, go ahead, stay here. Let Panagos send more guys over and see how forgiving they are. Maybe you can show them your bank account and they’ll decide to shoot you in the head and make it quick instead of ripping out your fingernails one by one while they violate you sexually.”
“Stop it,” I say sharply. “You’re being disgusting.”