“Dominick is the head of the Angeline family, who are basically mortal enemies of the Rivaldi family, even though there’s been peace for years. It’s been a Cold War in the area, two sides that posture and talk a lot of shit, but nobody’s been willing to actually draw blood. Still, it’s not like Carlos Rivaldi was welcome inside Petals. So why was Carlos in Dominick’s club? The Rivaldis have their own bars, their own club. So why would he be at Petals?”
He looks to be thinking for a moment, but my mind has already begun rolling, considering angles and strategies and manipulations. It’s what’s given me my best stories, being able to see all the possible motivations and consequences of people’s actions. “Maybe he was a spy? Or you said he’s the bastard son. Maybe he’s pissed at that label and wanting to stir stuff up? Or maybe someone just invited him to come check out the show and have a drink? It could be anything.”
Shane rubs his jaw, his words coming slowly as he considers my comment. “You’re right. Carlos could’ve been spying for his daddy, in which case Dominick would be pissed as fuck and could’ve hired the hit. There’s another option though.”
“What’s that?” I ask, nodding when I understand a moment later. “Dominick invited Carlos.”
Shane nods. “If he thought he could bring Carlos on board, it’d have changed the entire game in this part of the country. The Angelines are the big dogs by far, but it wasn’t always that way, and the Rivaldis do have some pockets of power. Sal Rivaldi’s getting up there in years. The issues between the two families started with Dom’s daddy. If Dom and Carlos thought they might be able to forge an undercover alliance and get Sal to retire quicker, either voluntarily or the hard way . . . Daddy Sal might have heard about it, and he’s not the kind to forgive treason, even from his own blood.”
I swallow, feeling like I want to throw up. Down the rabbit hole, and I’m still not sure how deep I’ve gotten. “He’d kill his own son?”
Shane nods once, chuckling darkly. “Carlos is his bastard son. He just found out about him a few years ago and there’s no love lost. Apparently, Sal had a one-night stand when he was trying to make inroads with the Colombians, and he left Carlos’s mom with a souvenir.”
“And he never knew?” I ask, and Shane nods.
“I don’t know the full story, but apparently, Carlos just showed up, wanting his birthright and being pretty fucking aggressive about it, from what I hear. Sal ran the DNA, but not much else he could do about it.”
“So either Dominick killed his arch nemesis’s son, in which case, I’m guessing Sal will be pretty POed, even if he didn’t like the kid. Or someone, maybe even Sal himself, sent Carlos to his death on Dominick’s turf. It sounds like the beginning of a mob war,” I comment and shake my head. “And I got a look at the ugly mug who did it. Great.”
Shane’s face pales as he looks at me. “You might be the only one who did, too. Allie was near the edge of the sofa, right? And she had blood on her chest and face, so she couldn’t have seen from that angle. She’d have been facing Carlos, her back to the door. But you saw the hitman face-to-face. Could you identify him?”
I nod, biting my lip. “I feel like that’s a question you should automatically say no to when you’re talking mob hitmen, but yeah, I’d recognize him anywhere. That face, the squinty eyes and cauliflowered left ear . . . I could probably sketch him for you, if that’s helpful. I’m not an artist, but it’d be close enough.”
“Yeah, we’ll see if we can get a pencil and some paper because we need to know who the hitman is so we can figure out who hired him,” Shane says, sighing. “I can’t believe we’re talking about your sketching a hitman.”
“But why can’t we go to the police? They could help us,” I ask, almost pleading with him, and Shane laughs harshly. “What? That’s their job!”
Shane looks at me with pity in his eyes and smiles bitterly. “Both families have the police in their pockets. The only way to be a cop above Desk Sergeant in East Robinsville is to be friendly with one family or the other. If we go to the cops, we’ll likely never be seen again because they’ll turn us over to whoever wants us the most.”
“As in?” I ask, fearing the answer even before Shane says it.
“Meaning whoever’s willing to pay more for our silence. Knowing some of the cops in this town, they’d do the job for the families and might even try to collect from both of them if there’s money in it.”
Hating that answer and needing more, I run through the whole evening again in my head, something wiggling at me, but it’s not until I see the blood spatter on Allie’s favorite costume that I realize what it is.
“Hey! What about the cameras? The security? How’d the hitman even get inside without being seen? He should be on cameras all over the place. There should be all sorts of images of him, not just my memory.”
Shane nods but gets up to pace the carpet. “Yeah, but that’s only helpful if it’s Sal’s guys fucking with Dominick. If Dominick did this, he’d erase the recordings. All it takes is a single button push on his system. That’d leave him just one last loose end to clean up.”
Shane gives me a pointed look, and I realize he’s telling me that if Dominick is behind this, he’ll want me killed. If Sal did it, Dominick won’t hurt me, but Sal probably will. I’m messed up either way. “So, where does that leave us? You’re Dominick’s guy.”
I leave the question as to whether he’ll hurt me unasked, but he knows that’s what I need to know. Shane walks to the curtained window and glances out before turning to me, looking at me from across the room with intense eyes that burn with . . . something.
“It’s more complicated than that, but I swear to you, Meghan, I would never, ever hurt you. I work at Petals for Dominick, but I’m not in the mob, not one of his guys. I promise with my very last breath to keep you safe.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” I ask, my heart pounding as the intensity of Shane’s words hit me. In another light, another situation, they’d be the most romantic thing a man has ever said to me. I feel the sting of tears in the corners of my eyes, but refuse to let them loose, even though this is all so overwhelming.
Shane doesn’t have the magic answer I was hoping for, instead being a bit vague. “We’ll figure it all out.”
For a moment, I think about telling him that it’s even more complicated than he realizes because I’m not just a cocktail waitress at Petals, but an undercover reporter using the job to get stories for a celebrity tabloid. Part of me wants to tell him everything, because deep down inside, I feel this almost instinctual need to be totally honest with him.
We’ve danced around each other for two months to the point that earlier tonight ,we nearly kissed, despite knowing the rules. We both know that we want the other, and that the only reason he’d gotten me so angry at him earlier tonight is that he’s under my skin.
But that seems minor in comparison to mob hits, and honestly, I don’t think telling Shane that I’ve been lying to him is going to ingratiate me to him.
And I need him right now, to stay safe, to stay alive.
So I let the truth die on my lips, keeping that secret.
For now. I only pray that before this is all over, there’s a chance that I can tell him the truth. Because just once, I’d like to hear him call me Maggie instead of Meghan.
Chapter 12
Shane
For a moment, Meghan looks like she’s got something to say, maybe something important that dances on the tip of her tongue, but with a sigh, she deflates, biting the words back, and I’m curious what she was going to tell me.
Maybe something about the shooter? Big guy, cauliflower ear. I can think of a few suspects, but I’d need more to be sure since the ear doesn’t ring a bell at the moment.
Still, the look on Meghan’s face. I have to know what she’s thinking. Unable to stop myself, I cross the room, crouching in front of her and tilting her chin up, forcing her to look me in the eye.
“You’re safe. We’re okay right now.”
She bites her lip, and I can see the sheen of fear in her eyes. Tears form on her lower eyelids, and I pull her to me, hugging her close. She lays her head on my shoulder as I rub up and down her back.