“Shh,” he said. “Someone’s outside.”
I thought he should be moving, standing, something. It took me a second to feel his arm and an uncomfortable hardness under my pillow. He was holding his gun. He was more alert than he appeared, trying to lure whoever it was into a false sense of security. I reduced the pressure of my head on the pillow, wedging my shoulder under me so he could clear the shot easily if he had to. I stiffened at the knock on the back door.
“He’s a polite intruder,” I whispered, and Antonio smiled. Who wouldn’t be safe with this man in her bed?
“It’s one of my guys,” he said, throwing off the sheet. “Get dressed.”
I’d tossed our stuff in the dryer in the middle of the night, so we unloaded the clean clothes and wiggled into them. Being grunge-free felt good.
“I should have put that toothbrush in my pocket,” I grumbled.
“Your mouth tastes like roses.” He kissed me on the lips while he tucked in his shirt.
“Blech.”
Antonio peeked out the kitchen window then opened the door. Otto stood there with a bag in each hand: one paper, one white plastic.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Buon giorno.”
“Hi.” I took the paper bag from him. It was warm. “Is this food?”
“I got a little breakfast from the place around the corner.”
He and Antonio shook hands, and I open tore the bag. I didn’t have time for staples and tape. There was hot food to be had. I set out the containers while Antonio looked in the plastic bag. Eggs. Pancakes. Potatoes. Exactly what we needed.
“Otto, I think I love you.” I hugged him hard. He patted my back noncommittally, and when I looked at Antonio, I knew why. “Give me a break, Capo. Sit down and eat.”
Properly chastened by the woman of the house, they sat down. Antonio peeled open a coffee and drank it black.
“My daughter got the information about Valentina,” Otto said, opening Styrofoam boxes. “She’s at Sequoia. They kept her overnight, and they’ll probably keep her again. She hasn’t said she’s a captive or nothing. Hasn’t asked for the law. Nothing.”
“She understands omertà. That’ll work in our favor.”
Otto pushed away his food. I stayed quiet, but his position and attitude didn’t bode well.
“Lorenzo,” he said. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but I’m the last one with a mouth to open.”
“Zo? Zo what?”
“When you was gone those days, he was on top of the crew. He was good. But he knew you was alive, right?”
“Yes.” Antonio’s voice, in one syllable, was all right angles and hard surfaces.
“He barely breathed. Said we could mourn you for a week, then we were back to business.” Otto took out his cigarettes and turned to me. “You mind?”
“No, go ahead.”
Otto lit up and tossed Antonio the pack. “He put the lid on any ideas about vengeance. He was ready. Took control. Laid out a plan to continue business with no interruptions.”
“Make your point.” Antonio lit his cigarette, tilting his head a little.
“He likes things organized. He…” Otto dragged on his smoke. “He left. Promised himself to the Carlonis in exchange for peace. I’m sorry, boss. He sends his apologies.”
Antonio pushed his chair out with a hard squeak and stood. “Ten minutes.”
He stormed out the back door.
thirty-seven.
antonio
hose motherfucking sons of whores. Each of them. Fuck all of them. Even Otto. Fuck him too. Fuck all of the little cowardly bastards. If I had the time, I’d stomp them from the face of the earth. Right under my shoe.