Paolo shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle a moan as Frankie swept the Toscani clubhouse for bugs using a small, handheld surveillance detector.
This was bad. Very bad.
Mr. Rizzoli missing. That damn cop with his phone. His body wracked with the pain of withdrawal. His face still smarting from Michele Benni’s punch when he’d been high during their date and let his hands roam free.
He needed a bump so bad. One snort and the pain would go away. He would feel that blissful numbness that made life as a loser so much easier to bear. But how would he help Mr. Rizzoli if his mind was fucked up? He wanted a hit, but he wanted to help Mr. Rizzoli more, and that wasn’t going to happen if gave in to the craving.
“It’s clear,” Frankie yelled. “Don Toscani can come in.”
Frankie was a cold-hearted bastard who’d never had a kind word for Paolo, but if Paolo could pick a job in Mr. Rizzoli’s crew, it would be to do one of the jobs Frankie did. Not his work as an enforcer—Paolo didn’t have the stomach for violence—but his work as a bodyguard. Paolo had enjoyed looking out for Matteo before Mr. Rizzoli’s wife died. And he’d felt good when he threw the stone to protect Gabrielle. He hadn’t been able to protect his mother, but he could make it up to her by protecting other people. Problem was he didn’t have a bodyguard body and he was getting thinner every day because when he was high he forgot to eat.
Paolo hadn’t had many opportunities to see Don Toscani in action and he’d never been formally introduced to the big boss. Introductions were never made until you became a soldier, or a highly trusted associate. One day, maybe, he’d get to shake Don Toscani’s hand, but for now his job was to stay on the fringes of the room during this important meeting until one of Luca’s soldiers needed him.
“Bring me up to speed.” Don Toscani’s voice echoed around the clubhouse. Tall, broad shouldered and heavily muscled, he dominated the room through the force of his presence alone.
“Luca is still missing,” Frankie said. “We’ve checked hospitals, medi-centers, his apartment, his mother’s house, the restaurant, and the bars and clubs where he likes to go. His car is still at the casino. Charlie Nails checked the City of Las Vegas Jail and the Clark County Detention Center. He’s also been to the detention centers in Henderson, Las Vegas, and North Las Vegas. He’s tried the online Inmate Search databases, and hit up every one of our contacts in the local police stations. There’s no record of Luca’s arrest, and no one remembers seeing him brought in.”
Silence.
“What about Gabrielle?” Don Toscani asked.
“Paolo knew where she lived so he took me to her place,” Mike said. “She was at work, but I talked to her roommate, Nicole. Someone beat Nicole up pretty bad and I’m gonna find the fucker and make him pay. Anyway, she said Gabrielle has been looking for Luca, too, without any luck. Seems strange if she was involved in his arrest. But who knows how cops think?”
“You think he ratted us out and went into witness protection?” Sally G asked.
“I think it’s a possibility.” Frankie pulled out a pack of smokes. “He broke the rules to be with Gabrielle, and he knew once we had Garcia it was over between them. It was her or us. Maybe he made the wrong choice, and he’s run off with her. Or maybe he left her behind, too, like his old man did. You can’t trust those Rizzolis.”
Don Toscani’s face tightened. “I don’t think you understand how deeply his father’s betrayal cut him. His whole life since then has been about restoring the family honor. He has given his life for the family—he almost gave his life for me. He would die rather than do what his father did. This thing with Gabrielle … it’s not the same. It comes from the heart.”
Bang. Bang. Bang. The front door shook. Frankie and Don Toscani’s bodyguards rushed to surround the don.
“Paolo,” Frankie barked. “Go check the surveillance cameras.”
Conscious of all the eyes on him, Paolo ran to the check the surveillance monitors in the alcove by the door.
“Holy shit! It’s Gabrielle.”
“Shoot the bitch,” someone yelled.
Paolo looked back over his shoulder and Frankie shook his head. “She’s not welcome here. Tell her to fuck the hell off.”
“I’m looking for Paolo.” Gabrielle’s voice was loud and clear through the steel door. “And if Luca’s there, I’ve got something for him.”
“She doesn’t know where he is,” Paolo said, half to himself. “How can she not know where he is if she arranged to have him arrested? Or if she put him in witness protection? Or if she was going with him?”
“Luca!” She shouted through the door. “If you’re in there, you’d better come out or I’ll call 911 and report a fire in your damn clubhouse. You are not going after Garcia alone.”
Paolo turned. “She said…”
“We heard what she said.” Don Toscani’s lips quivered, amused. “Frankie, go open the door.”
Frankie gave a violent shake of his head. “Nico…”
Don Toscani held up his hand, cutting off Frankie’s protest. “I want to get to the bottom of this. She was genuinely shocked when the police showed up to arrest Luca, and horrified that we thought she was involved. I don’t think she would betray him. I saw them together. Love is blind, but it is also hard to fake.”
Jaw tight, eyes hard, his disapproval etched in every line of his body, Frankie opened the door. Gabrielle stepped inside and held her arms out at her sides. She wore tight jeans, a form-fitting green tank top and a black leather jacket that matched her knee-high black leather boots. Her long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and Paolo’s mouth watered. She was so hot he thought he might melt just from looking at her. And then he remembered the rule about looking at a made man’s woman and cooled himself off by staring at Frankie instead. Damn enforcer had to be made of stone to show no sign of being affected by the bold, beautiful woman standing in the doorway.
“You’ll want to disarm me,” she said. “I’ve also got a .22 in my left boot, and a knife in my right. The rest you’ll have to find yourself.”
Cursing in Italian, Frankie patted her down and relieved her of her weapons. Paolo definitely wanted bodyguard duty if it meant he got to feel up hot chicks. Although maybe not ones as dangerous as Gabrielle. After Frankie finished disarming her, Paolo counted three guns, one Taser and two knives.
Gabrielle handed another knife to Paulo. “There’s a cop at my office who has your phone and he’s looking for you. Warn your friends not to call your old number because he’s planning to track them down to get to you.”
Fuck. Yet another mistake coming back to haunt him.
“I’ve got two more weapons on me.” She challenged Frankie with a stare. “But I don’t think Luca will be happy if you go looking for them. They aren’t in readily accessible places.”
“Cristo mio,” Frankie spat out. “He bought himself a shitload of trouble with you.”
Gabrielle shrugged. “He’s a man who likes a challenge. Now, where is he?”
“We don’t know.” Don Toscani leaned against the pool table, arms folded over his chest. “We thought you might.”
“I called everywhere and went to visit every station and detention center. No one has a record of an arrest, there are no police reports about him being apprehended, and he isn’t in the system for the jails. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts, so I figured either he thinks I had something to do with what happened at the casino, or he’s taken the money and gone to see Garcia on his own.” Her brow creased with worry. “Maybe he’s there. Maybe Garcia got him.”
“I have the money,” Nico said. “So it’s unlikely he went after Garcia. The only other realistic possibility is that Garcia has him. He may be trying to even the score. He’s down three men to our one.”
Paolo’s stomach twisted in a knot. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Garcia might have kidnapped Mr. Rizzoli. What if Paolo went to the restaurant and found Mr. Rizzoli hanging in the meat freezer like Little Ricky? Mr. Rizzoli was like a father to him, and what had Paolo given back? The last time he’d been at the restaurant, he’d been high and disrespectful.
Paolo’s hand fisted by his side, and he was almost overwhelmed with the urge to throw his remaining drug supply in the toilet. What the fuck was he doing with his life? There was no one he respected more than Mr. Rizzoli and if he were dead, Paolo’s last memories would be tainted with the guilt of dealing drugs to Mr. Rizzoli’s addicted brother in his mother’s house and putting his damn feet on Mr. Rizzoli’s desk.
Gabrielle reached into her purse. At least eight guns left their holsters and pointed in her direction. Alarmed, Paolo moved to her side. She was still under Mr. Rizzoli’s protection and since no one else from Mr. Rizzoli’s crew was coming forward, the burden of protecting her fell on him.
Gabrielle gave an exasperated sigh. She didn’t really seem to be afraid of the wiseguys or the guns. She had balls of steel. Paolo wanted to have balls like her.
“Although it’s flattering to think you’re all so terrified of me that you need multiple weapons pointed in my direction,” she said. “I was just trying to get my phone so I could share the information I have on Garcia and we could work together to find him.”
“We don’t work with fucking cops.” Frankie glared at Gabrielle. Paolo shivered. No one wanted to be on the wrong end of Frankie’s scowl.
Except, it seemed, Gabrielle. She scowled at Frankie, and her hands found her hips. “You’re working with one today because if Luca is with Garcia, you’re not going to find to him without my help.”
“We don’t need your help.”
“Yeah?” She faced off with the formidable Frankie. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to call up Garcia on his personal line and say hey, buddy, did you kidnap one of my friends? Can you do me a solid and drop him off with his arms and legs intact?”
A shiver ran over Paolo’s skin as he sensed where this was headed. He took one last look around the clubhouse, remembering the first time he’d walked inside, his dreams of becoming a wiseguy and how excited he’d been to tell his mom that he was going to make real money at last.
“We’ve got the money,” Frankie retorted. “We’ll stick with Luca’s plan.”
“Garcia knows who we are,” Don Toscani said. “Tony will have given him all our details. That’s probably how he found Little Ricky. And if he has Luca, he’ll be expecting us to show up if he hasn’t whacked him already. We need to find another way.”
Paolo winced at Don Toscani’s harsh words. Mr. Rizzoli couldn’t be dead. He was a good man. An honorable man. He looked after his mother and his son. He had tried again and again to help Alex. He had taken a bullet for Don Toscani. He had protected Gabrielle. Paolo wanted to be worthy of his mentor. He’d made a huge mistake with the drugs. He just needed a second chance …
Or he could take it.
His heart leaped in his chest. Mr. Rizzoli had given him a dream. He’d given Paolo hope, and he’d given him forgiveness. Now, Paolo was going to pay it back. For once in his life he would do the right thing. He would be worthy. Even if it meant his dream was lost forever.
“I can do it,” he said. “I have a way in to Garcia.”