Chapter Ten

Campbell

BY THE TIME we get to the apartment, it’s almost midnight. I had to spend a solid hour ensuring no one was tailing the new car, but if Stefano is keeping an eye on me, he’s doing it from an angle I can’t detect.

The unit sits on top of a gated high-rise, requiring private codes for everything from the front door to specific floors in the elevator. Sofia acquired my place first but eventually invested various family funds into the entire building. Plenty of people hunger for the trappings of security, and real estate is worth more than its weight in gold these days. For my part, I like having private blueprints of the architecture from roof to foundation and knowing no one here is ever going to look into my personal business. That would set a poor precedent for the neighbors.

I lock up behind us once Justine follows across the threshold. Dinner went swimmingly, as far as I can tell, but the subtle bands of tension along her shoulders never quite unraveled. She sets her purse down on the kitchen counter, then pauses.

“Was someone else here?”

The question is a red flag, but when she points to a carton of cigarettes on the other end of the counter, I relax. “Those are Sofia’s. She stays here sometimes if a case runs late. We’re closer to her office than the house.”

Where she’s presently being held hostage. Justine must catch the dour look on my face because she immediately presses close, one hand cupping my jaw. “Tell me what happened, Campbell. Are you sure she’s okay?”

“Okay as she can be, considering the present circumstances.” I don’t trust Stefano, but I do trust he wants La Rosa dead more than he wants Sofia to suffer the same fate. “They ambushed us, plain and simple. It was calculated.”

Her brow presses against mine. The lightest possible contact, and yet exactly what I need, bracing me for what’s to come. “Who do they want you to kill?”

The million-dollar question. “I’m not sure I should tell you that.”

“Are you serious?” Justine briefly bares her teeth. “If you’re in that much danger, then—”

I put my hand over hers, drawing her palm away. “This isn’t like Paris, Justine. This isn’t one man I can get my hands around and keep under control. It’s an entire organization with decades of influence in this city, and every single person in it would take a murder rap for the cause. If they find you, and you know too much, you won’t survive the reckoning.”

She wants to argue. The urge goes through her entire body, shoulders rigid and the crescent of her nails biting into my fingers. “But how did they find you?”

That much, she does need to know. I pull away and fetch the pictures Stefano gave me from my bag before laying them out side by side across the kitchen counter. A few stick together, stray drops of Cesare’s congealed blood acting like glue, but Justine looks past the obvious to the threat underneath in an instant: “Some of these are years old. You have a stalker with friends in the Mafia.”

“But it’s a very inconsistent stalking.” I point between two pictures: the last one taken in New York and the most recent photo in Chicago. “I was back in NYC three or four times before I took your contract. Where are those pictures?”

Of course, it’s possible Stefano decided to hide his full range of evidence, but if he had eyes on me every single day, my relationships with both Sofia and Justine would have been incontrovertible. For him to know of one but not the other reveals a gap, either in knowledge or capability.

Justine frowns, face set tight in concentration, and traces a finger from photo to photo. If the blood bothers her, she shows no sign. “They all have one thing in common. Distance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Photography isn’t my formal specialty, but I know enough to say these were taken with a telephoto lens. Whoever took the shots either didn’t want to get close or was told to stay back as far as possible.” She taps the photo of Sofia and me. “And they’re all public. In every image, you’re either outside or visible through a nearby window. No houses. No hotels. No rooms with any expectations of privacy.”

I look over the spread again, narrowing my eyes. Justine’s right. “Rather polite for someone tracking me across the country on the Mafia’s dime. There aren’t any photos of me outside the States either.”

“And once they caught you and Sofia at the same time, the pictures got closer together.” Her thumb settles on the one from Chicago. “I think that’s when they figured it out for sure, but you never stay in one place for long.”

“Only two days in that New York shot.” Then I had a contract in Washington D.C. and another down in New Orleans. They caught a glimpse of me leaving the capital but missed when I went down south. “And until I came back, Stefano couldn’t make his move.”

Various members of the Five Families have power outside the state, but they also have a knack for getting caught when leaving the homestead. If Stefano’s intent was always to send me after La Rosa, a kidnapping presents far more complexity. He had to be patient, and I have to admit, I’m somewhat impressed by his restraint.

“What are you going to do?” Justine asks. “If they have Sofia…”

“There’s only one thing to do.” La Rosa’s life is irrelevant to me; being open to blackmail is a far more pressing concern. “Unless you’re implying I should take on the Mafia one-on-one. In which case, I’m flattered.”

“No, I mean—” She sighs, folding her arms and leaning back against the counter. “I should have said what are we going to do? Am I supposed to entertain my parents while you take out a mob boss? Smile and pretend your friend isn’t in the middle of a hostage situation?”

Not exactly how I would have phrased it, but I do appreciate her cutting straight to the point. “Yes. I don’t want this to touch your family. If you need me to make an appearance, let me know, and I’ll plan appropriately. Otherwise, I’ll keep my distance.”

“Plan appropriately,” Justine echoes, then shakes her head. “I don’t want to be a doll playing the contrite daughter. I want to help.”

“Help?” After Paris, that’s the last thing I want. “You don’t kill people for a living. There’s only one kind of help you can give.”

Anger ignites in her eyes. “And what’s that, Campbell?”

“You can’t be half-in and half-out,” I hiss, and it turns my tongue to lead. This is exactly what Sofia was talking about. “You can’t help me chase down a target and then turn around to have dinner with your parents. That is how people get caught. That’s how we go to prison, if we’re lucky. If someone like Stefano and his cronies don’t torture us to death first. This isn’t a game. It’s not some jolt of adrenaline to get you going.”

Shock extinguishes the flare of rage, chased by a wounded look that proves I went a too far. Justine is caught between my body and the counter, so I take a step back, but that doesn’t stop her from whispering, “God, you scare me sometimes.”

My heart turns to black ice, impossibly dangerous. “Justine. I—”

“Not that you’ll hurt me,” she clarifies, soft yet distant. “Not in that way. But because I look at you and try to picture what the next five years will look like, the next ten, and I wonder when I’ll have to cross that line. Should I play ignorant instead? Lie to everyone I know? I could lose you in an instant, Campbell. What if a target or a cop puts a bullet in the back of your head, and I’m half the world away when it happens?”

The alternative is abandoning every connection she has, going off the grid like I have. No visits with family, no gallery with her name written on the property deed, no chance of her art ever making it to the world stage. And she would do it for my sake, not because she has the same compulsion I do, but because she’s making a choice to sacrifice her future on the altar of loving me.

“I…” The ice eases, but without that numbness, I’m far less steady. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not asking to pull the trigger. We both know that’s not who I am.” Her smile is wry and a little sad, and I wonder if Justine wishes she could be more like me. I’m not sure if that’s terrifying or exactly what the most selfish, vicious part of my heart hungers for. “I just want—need—the truth, Campbell, about what you’re doing. Maybe I can’t do anything to help, but that void fucking haunts me. I can’t watch you leave and not know why.”

They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and it’s true. The wrong word taken out of context gets people killed every day—ask any civilian who’s had half their family bombed over some soldier mispronouncing a name. No matter the temptation, I can’t drag Justine completely into the dark, changing everything she is.

But I sure as hell can’t let her go.

“My target’s name is Miceli La Rosa,” I say. “Do you know what the Commission is?”

Justine shakes her head.

“The Five Families plus the Chicago Outfit makes for six bosses, and six votes. When they want to start a war along the East Coast, that goes to the Commission. When they want to break the old laws to sell heroin or let in someone’s half-Sicilian bastard, that’s them too. But in order to keep votes from being split down the middle, their little boardroom needs a leader—a tiebreaker. Right now, La Rosa has the crown.”

Her eyes widen. “Why would the Galici family want him dead? That sounds like shooting themselves in the foot if he’s on their side.”

“My guess is he isn’t on their side. Maybe he voted against them too many times, or is letting a grudge rule his gavel. If he dies and no one’s ready for it, that’s a vacuum of power Galici and company can take immediate advantage of. It might cause a war, but they’ll have their guns loaded while everyone else is scrambling for ammunition.”

“Won’t Sofia’s family get swept up in this?” Justine asks.

“Depending on what side they back, sure. But Sofia’s smart. If I can get her out of this, she’ll maneuver the Cattaneo line out of the way.” Formally elected or not, her relatives are too self-serving to disobey her in matters of life and death. “Of course, La Rosa is incredibly well-protected, and Stefano gave me a week to do the deed.”

“A week?” Justine laughs. “Is that even possible?”

It’s certainly cutting things close. “I’m going to get Sofia’s cousin onboard. If anyone can get me into La Rosa’s private business on the sly, it’s Enrico. He’s a hacker. Then it’s just a matter of setting up the right opportunity.”

Her lips tighten into a thin line. “You’re still going to make it look like an accident?”

“If I don’t, every cop and mafioso in this city is going to shake hands and come hunting for me. Stefano’s ready to spill what I did to Mickey if things don’t pan out how he likes.” I need a plan to deal with that, too, but one thing at a time. “But that’s the idea. Is that enough? Do you trust me?”

“Oh, Campbell.” Justine lets out a deep breath, then steps forward to place a soft kiss on my lips. “Of course I trust you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise.”

“Paris is still weighing on me,” I admit against her mouth. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know. And I’m asking you to play the perfect partner in front of my parents on top of everything else.” Her fingertips follow down the line of my throat, mapping the way to my heart. “I can handle everything at home. I just hate myself for lying to them, and I have no idea how to make that stop.”

“You’re doing it to keep them safe,” I insist. “Isn’t that the best reason to lie?”

Justine pulls away from me, but her hand stays in place. “When it comes to you? Absolutely. But they don’t know about Richard either, and it’s too much. I feel like I’m going to break, and everything will burst out of me at once. I wish they would…well. It’s not logical.”

Most feelings aren’t, in my experience. “Tell me anyway.”

“I wish they could tell how much pain I’m in without saying a word. I want the catharsis without the confession, without feeling guilty for the lie, for—” Justine flinches. “—for my own abuse. Wow, okay. That sounds horrible out loud.”

“Not because of anything you’ve done.” I look deep into Justine’s eyes, needing her to see the truth. “You aren’t responsible for what Richard did to you or what he made you do.”

“I chose to lie,” she mutters.

“Because he would punish you for honesty.” Killing him once really wasn’t enough. “If there was ever a textbook definition for being under duress, I think you qualify.”

“Stop making sense,” Justine counters with a soft laugh, a hint of tears shining in her eyes. “I should let you get to work.”

Unfortunately, I have a very long night ahead of me. Stefano dropped hints about La Rosa’s estate in Ditmars, but breaking into a mob boss’ highly guarded compound isn’t something I can do on a whim. I need to know every waking moment of his schedule, a full list of defenses, and any weaknesses he’s tried to conceal from the rest of the world. With the clock against me, sleep is the first privilege that gets cast aside.

“I’ll stay out here in the living room.” Better not to test my restraint by having Justine right in bed next to me. “Go to the bedroom and wind down. If that gives you trouble, there’s a very nice tub you can soak in for a while.”

“I’d probably fall asleep in there if I did,” Justine admits, pressing one more kiss to my cheek before stepping away. “But if you need anything, wake me up, okay? I don’t care what time it is.”

What have I done to deserve her?

Once she retreats to the other room, I search through the drawers in the kitchen until finding some tape. I hang up Stefano’s photos by the desk over in the other corner in a tight group, ensuring the whole spread is visible at once. Everything Justine pointed out makes sense, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s some lingering detail we’re both missing.

If I’m lucky, killing La Rosa will be a revelation in every sense of the word.