Chapter 62

I don’t know if I’m surprised or not to find Christian waiting for us, arms crossed and glaring at the door, when Frankie and I get back to the apartment. He’s blown so hot and cold on me lately – first not talking to me and lavishing Violetta with all his attention, and then chasing me into a storage room?

Like seriously, what’s going on?

“Are you all right?” he snaps immediately, his eyes on me and mad like it’s my fault that this happened.

And, well, considering that I did insist on going to work – even if I didn’t shoot anyone – I guess it kind of is. I nod to him, eyes wide, letting him know that I’m perfectly fine. But before I can say anything, Frankie chimes in.

“Yeah, boss, I’m fine!” he says, overly cheerful as he presses the door shut and gives Christian a too-innocent grin. “Thanks so much for worrying, really shows how much you care –“

“Cut it, Frank,” Christian says, dry, as he steps forward and looks me up and down, searching me for any injuries. I hold my hands out to my sides, letting him see that I am, as promised, totally okay. He looses a long sigh and steps forward to wrap me in a quick hug. Frankie, in the meantime, heads into the kitchen.

“Do we have any beer?” he says under his breath. “I could use a beer.”

“Make it two,” I sigh, and Christian and I step towards the kitchen with him.

“No,” Frankie murmurs, rifling through the fridge. “All the beer is for me.”

I laugh a little, pulling myself up on a stool as Christian waits, tense, beside me for Frankie to stand up straight.

“Where’s Violetta?” I ask, looking around for her, kind of surprised that she hasn’t come out of the bedroom yet.

“Home,” Christian says, giving me a glance.

I go a little still as I start to pile my hair on my head. “Is this not her home? She sleeps here every night.”

“She’s at her family home,” Christian sighs, turning to me to explain more fully. “Tonight was unexpected – it freaked people out. Her dad called her, told her to go home until things are clearer. So, I had Nico take her.”

I turn my head to the side, peering at him, not commenting but a little surprised by this. If things are up in the air and a little dangerous, wouldn’t the safest place for Violetta to be at Chrisitan’s side, in a well-protected anonymous penthouse in a high rise with a private elevator?

Why would her family want her home?

But I don’t ask, and Christian doesn’t offer any more detail.

Frankie puts three beers on the counter and pops them all open with the little magnetic bottle cap opener I keep on the fridge, taking a deep swig of his as I pull one closer to me.

“All right,” Christian says, keeping his eyes on Frankie. “Report.”

And, soldier that he is, Frankie does. I listen carefully to the way that Frankie details the day, especially to the things that he leaves out. In his story, Christian’s dad did indeed pull me in for a performance review – which went well, after last night – but Frankie went with me. Frankie leaves out the little details of our fight in the corner of the bar, instead suggesting that the men burst into the room the moment we came back into the room, shot Lucy as collateral damage, and then Frankie took them down the moment they got into the main room.

Frankie delivers the information with his normal, casual air – as if it doesn’t bother him at all. But when he talks about pulling the trigger, I do notice the way that his hand tightens on the beer bottle.

I frown at this, my heart breaking, because Frankie – he plays it so tough, so cool. But he killed two men today. Saved the rest of us – Lucy, me, his brother, his boss. But…it can’t be easy, can it? And even if it’s all part of a day’s work for a guy like him…

Well, Frankie’s more tender than he likes to let on, I think. Secretly. Deep down.

I make a personal note to ask him about it later, when it’s just him and me. When he doesn’t have to put up a front for Christian.

“So, what’d you find out?” Frankie asks, genuinely curious.

Christian sighs sharply through his nose and looks between us before finishing his beer and gesturing towards the fridge for Frankie to get another. Something rankles in me at this – Frankie’s had a worse day than Christian, shouldn’t he be the one getting him a beer? But, well…Frankie is closer. And Christian is his boss. As Frankie moves toward the fridge, fetching one for each of us, Christian begins.

“What you said on the phone was right, Frankie,” Christian says, though the news clearly doesn’t please him at all. “It was Bonetti and Pesci – one of each of their lowest-tier men, sacrifices. They followed dad, waited until he was someplace unguarded like Lupa, and then went in. They were instructed to kill on sight, if they could – but there was no real expectation that they would get it done that easy. Nah – they were just the gambits in a long game of chess. A war, really.”

I sit up straight at this. War? The news has been talking about a mob war brewing for a long time, but this…has it finally begun?

Frankie nods slowly, holding Christian’s gaze, his face grave. “This is over the information?” The way he flicks his eyes my way lets me know with no doubts that he’s talking about Steven’s information – that which he mined from the mob bosses computers, that was going to use to blackmail everyone.

Financial information which now only the Romano family has.

But which everyone thinks I have too.

“Ostensibly,” Christian replies with a sigh and a shrug. “But come on, Frank, you know it’s bigger than that. That’s just…the match to a much larger bonfire of problems.”

Nico comes in the door then, his own face even more serious than it usually is, and he nods solidly to Christian to let him know that Violetta is home safe as he walks over to us in the kitchen. Frankie slides my yet-undrunk second beer across the counter to him and Nico, to my shock, raises it towards me.

“Glad you’re not dead, Iris,” he says softly, nodding before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink.

My mouth pops open for a moment but then I cover my pleased smile by taking a sip of my own. Nico, glad I’m not dead? Shoot, from him that’s very close to affection.

“Not dead yet,” Christian says, turning to me with a concerned frown. “I’m sorry, Iris, I know that you’ve liked working at Lupa – but with the way that things have changed?” he shakes his head. “I think you have to stay home. At least until that blows over.”

My face falls in very real disappointment, because – oh god, locked up here again!? I don’t know if I can do it –

“Actually…” All our heads turn to Nico, who keeps his eyes on me and gives me an apologetic shrug. “Actually, Chris, I think she needs to go back. I think she’s in too deep now.”

“What do you mean?” I whisper, starting to get completely freaked out.