The burner phone in my purse blazed hot every time I reached inside it, fumbling for a tissue or a piece of gum. I had the power to betray my family and kill my uncle. It was a sick curse to have this justice weighing on my shoulders like a stone, but I refused to use it unless I knew there was total reason to.
I wouldn't do anything until I knew the truth. And even then, I had my doubts. If everything Anton showed me was real, and my uncle was really a disgusting sex trafficker who'd murdered papa, could I really pull the trigger by dialing the brothers?
I choked on the thoughts, coughing up the last uneven sip of my martini. I was still trying to stop when a big hand fell on my shoulder. I turned, blotting my mouth with a napkin, and looked up into Vitto's nervous eyes.
“My god! It's really you, Miss Ligiotti. Wonderful to see you again. I thought my waiter was mistaken.” His lips twisted from side to side, as if he was chewing on the revelation. “I already placed a call, just in case. Your uncle will be here soon. He's been worried, looking all over for you since he heard about the breakout. It's been all over the news.”
Panic shot through my chest. Almost set off a dry coughing spell, but I managed to keep it together, reaching for the glass of water on the table and guzzling it down.
“Are you okay? Please, just say the word if there's anything you need from us. Water, aspirin...ambulance?” The last word was strained. I knew my uncle told him not to involve the police.
I threw off his trembling hand, shaking my head, rising from the table and carrying my water with me, heading for the benches near the front. “I'm fine. I'll wait for him near the steps.”
Vitto hesitated, but he didn't pursue me. Whatever. He'd played his lackey part too well.
I'm sure he would've been screaming after me if I'd taken a single step outside the restaurant. As long as I was waiting for my uncle to collect me, in a place where the manager could watch, he'd done his job.
I wished it were just as simple for me.
Waiting for Uncle Gioulio was worse than death row. He must've come racing from one end of Chicago to the other because the sleek black limo jerked up to the curb five minutes later. Rough, stoic men jumped out in their neat suits, opening the door in the back.
Uncle Gioulio wore the killer look I'd dreaded ever since I was a little girl. It was the look that transformed him from my favorite uncle, my protector, into the cold blooded mobster he truly was.
I shuddered. It wasn't so different from Anton's expression during the prison break, was it?
Ready to strike. Ready to kill. Ready to rip apart anything and anyone who got in his way.
My uncle slapped the door so hard it flew open, and then he was right in front of me, six feet of hard, balding judgment stuffed into a five thousand dollar suit.
“Niece!” He dropped on his knees, banging them on the floor hard enough to make me wince. He pulled me halfway off the bench into his arms, pressing his cool face to mine. “This reunion's nothing but a miracle. My God. What did they do to you?”
I tried to promise myself I wouldn't shake when he touched me the whole ride here. All those promises turned to ash, and I started to shudder in his arms, sick like death himself was holding onto me.
“Brina!” Uncle Gioulio pulled back, looking me in the face. “Talk to me right now! How did you get away? What the fuck did they do?”
I saw his hand fingering the switchblade he always kept near his pocket. His eyes were big, bright, churning like they were filled with tears.
God! God damn it.
He really cared. I couldn't ignore that. It wasn't just an act – he was ready to avenge me for every filthy touch, every torture, every insult raging in his mind. It took all my strength just to pry my lips open and make my tongue work.
“Uncle, they let me go. They wanted me to give you a message.” I used the first of the lines Anton had given me.
“Stop, niece. Come with me. This isn't the place for this kind of business.” He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out the door.
Nobody spoke again until we were in the limo, heading for the big house he kept in the city proper. I watched him pour a tall glass of wine from the silvery dispenser in the car. He downed it in one gulp and wiped his mouth, folding his hands as he leaned forward.
“Something to warm my guts. It's been so cold without you, Brina. I was ready to raid every fucking Ivankov property when I heard he'd taken you...”
The guards at his side were as tough and serious looking as ever, but Uncle Gioulio's face was ten times darker. Meaner. Insistent in a way that told me I'd better start feeding him answers.
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.” I prayed he'd believe it. I was prepared to lie a lot to make this go down like I wanted – hell, I'd already done enough pretending to make Anton let me go.