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“These places aren’t far. Let’s do a drive-by and then we’ll head back for your sister’s show tonight.”
“You’d better check yourself using a phrase like ‘drive-by.’ The way your dad spoke, it was a common thing back then.”
Gray put the car in gear and headed out of the subdivision. I turned up the air conditioner. Even with the milder weather, the sun beating into the car was ferocious.
“I’ve heard stories.”
“Like?” I asked.
“Milano was this old guy still in charge of his family. Brutal, quick to anger, quick to kill. Really into the old-school revenge. Dad was working his way up the Costa family and Frank was Bianchi’s boy. Costa and Bianchi could see the writing on the wall. Times were changing. Either the families needed to adjust or they’d be wiped out in raids and government witch hunts.” Gray checked the address again before signaling a left at the next light.
“Anyway, Dad said Milano jumped him, Costa, Bianchi and Frank one night. Held them all at gunpoint. His mistake was not killing them right away. Frank threw a knife, stabbing Milano in the chest.”
“Lucky for them, I guess.” Fear for Passion swarmed me. Frank was a killer? We needed to figure this out and soon.
“That’s not the point of my story. Dad said it was the scariest moment he’d ever seen in his life. Costa could’ve killed Milano and ended the feud right there, but he didn’t. He tortured Milano. Moving the knife slowly. He drew out the pain. He relished it.”
“Sounds like a sicko,” I offered up.
“You didn’t get to be the head of a crime family back then without some zeal for the bloody parts.”
“If this guy was such a cold-hearted killer, how did your dad take control?”
“Good question. Every time I asked as a child, he said he saw an opening and took it.”
“Do you ever wonder?” I asked. I watched the scenery fly by the window as we zoomed toward the Bianchi homes.
“How cold-blooded my dad really is for him to defeat Costa?”
I watched Gray’s face as he digested the information. His face changed from disbelief to acceptance slowly. I kept my hand on his leg the whole time, hoping he could feel our connection and love.
“Why would he have told me the story, then? About how Milano died?” he asked.
“My guess? Pride. He got to boast, in a way.”
Gray’s face hardened. He turned back to the wheel, dropping the car into drive and peeling out. He pulled a quick U-turn while I hung onto the chicken handle and braced myself.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting us out of here. I’m done with this family. For good. No coming back.”
“Wait! We can’t leave.” I pulled on his arm, trying to get his attention so he would slow down. I used the only tool I had available to me. “Gray, you’re scaring me.”
My admission got through to him. He slowed the car but didn’t stop. I let go of the chicken handle.
“Please pull over. Let’s talk about this.”
“We’re leaving, Regan. There is nothing to talk about.”
“There is. My whole family is here. Passion lives here. I can’t just run away from them.”
“We can’t stay here! Don’t you get it? You’re right. He beat Costa, a man he admits was a killer. What does that make my dad? He could be lying about not being involved.” Gray jerked the car to the right. The tires skidded as the wheels locked up.
I kept talking. “We can for one night. Just one night. We’ll leave first thing in the morning with everyone. I’ll even drag Passion away if I have to.”
“One night?” He made it sound like a death sentence.
“Just one. I promise,” I said. Gray sat back in his seat, eyes closed, taking deep breaths.
“I can’t have anything happen to you, Regan.”
“I know. We can be safe for just one more night though.” I touched his arm again. “Do you need me to drive?”
“No. I got it.” Gray dropped the car into drive again before pulling another U-turn.
“Where are we going now?” I held on as the car swerved.
“Back to our plan. We’ll be the safest if we know who’s behind this.”
“And the only way to do that is to keep narrowing our list,” I said, finishing his thought. Gray nodded. Normally he would’ve given me a grin and a wink, but the news weighed on his heart. Knowing your dad called the hits and knowing your dad performed the hits were two different things completely.
Gray turned into a residential neighborhood. This one was new and polished. Lots of cookie-cutter homes, one right after the other for blocks and blocks. Every fourth house had a pathway next to it. I counted four different floor plans one could choose from. People tried to give the homes some individuality by painting them different shades but they were all shades of brown. They were probably limited in the color choices by the HOA. I felt nauseated just driving down the street. It was like looking at a painting that didn’t have anything special to draw your eye. My gaze moved from one spot to the next with nothing of note in between. I was glad Gray was driving. I’d get lost without any visual clues as to where I was going. Every block looked the same.
Gray pulled over and pointed out the house to me. We watched for any activity, but the house remained buttoned up. The shades were drawn over the windows, blocking out the afternoon sun. We didn’t even know if there were people inside.
“What do you think?” Gray asked.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I pointed to an opening between two houses, that I’d noticed while driving through the neighborhood. Instead of alleyways, walkways were installed behind each of the homes, linking the houses to the communal areas.
We strolled casually down the walkway. The alley was almost creepier than the street. Each backyard was fenced in by six-foot cinder block walls. They gave the neighbors a feel of privacy while they reminded me of prison.
“Can you see anything?” I asked Gray since he was so tall.
“Barely. Just the back doors really. I can’t get a good enough angle on the yards.”
“Which house was it?”
“Second from the last. We’re coming up on it.”
I looked to the end of the alley and counted back. Smoke from a BBQ drifted up over the fence. Yips and squeals of children playing could be heard, along with the occasional splash.
“Ooh, they have a pool!” I said. Growing up in the Midwest, a pool was a rare and spectacular sight.
“It’s Vegas, Regan. Everyone has a pool.”
“Lift me up so I can see.” Gray bent down and I leaned against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my legs and lifted me high into the air. I had a clear view of the party from here. Men stood around the grill with cold beers in their hands. Women bustled in and out of the house carrying bowls of fruit and assorted cold salads along with condiments. Paper plates and napkins were stacked on the end of a table by the back door. Kids in floaties jumped in and out of the inground pool. Two dads played in the water with them. Teenagers milled about trying to look cool in front of each other.
“Where did all these people come from? I didn’t see any cars out front,” I asked.
The cocking of a gun halted Gray from answering. Gray turned slowly toward the sound. Sal stood a few feet away holding a semi-automatic towards us. Gray loosened his hold on me and I slid down until my feet touched the ground.
“Watch yourself,” Sal said. His beady eyes were black against the sunlight. He’d replaced his suit with a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Deck shoes covered his feet. He looked like a serial killer trying to blend into society.
Gray and I put our hands in the air to show we meant no harm. Sal pulled up his shirt and stuffed the gun in the waistband of his shorts.
“You gonna get yourself shot, go sneaking around people’s homes,” Sal said.
“I’m sorry, sir. We just have a few questions.” I glanced a look up at Gray. He and Sal kept their eyes on one another, both wary of the other.
“HOA don’t let us park on the streets here. That answer your question?”
“That doesn’t make sense. There’s plenty of room,” I said.
“HOA’s moodier than the mob. Lots of rules here.”
“Why do you live here then?” I asked.
“What better way to blend in? Everything looks the same.”
I glanced at Gray and shrugged my shoulders. Sal had a good point.
“Who are all these people?” I asked, waving my hand toward the party.
“Friends.”
“Of yours?” I asked.
“Are you serious?” Sal asked.
“Sorry. I don’t get it. I thought you were some big, bad mob killer.”
“You want to know who I am? Follow me.” Sal led us through a concealed doorway into the backyard. People nodded and smiled at us as we passed. I hoped he’d invite us to dinner. The burgers smelled amazing.
In the house, Sal led us to a hallway near the front door. Family photos filled the space. Sal and a pretty blonde throughout the years. As the years went, kids popped up in the photos and aged before my eyes.
“This is me,” Sal said, waving his hand to the photos. I looked between him and the pictures. The blank, cold look in his eyes I’d seen the first time I met him was gone. Smiles lightened his face, making him almost good-looking. Happiness shone through when he looked at his kids and wife and the life they’d lived.
“How?” I asked.
“I grew up. I got smart.” Sal tapped his temple with his index finger.
“It’s not you sabotaging the hotel?” I asked but I knew the answer. A man this happy and content didn’t rock the boat.
“Heck no. Tony and I almost caught the guy, though, the other night. We were this close.” Sal held his fingers an inch apart. “Listen, I like my cushy job. I make a good living. A good, safe, living, I might add. I barely put in forty hours and get the rest of the time with my family. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
I reserved judgment on whether or not he was telling the truth until Gray and I had a chance to talk later. But, based on the evidence in front of me, I’d say he was. The man looked sincere.
“What about your brother?” Gray asked.
“Tony?”
“He a happy family man, too?” Gray asked.
“Oh, no. He lives across the street.” Sal motioned to the house where we were parked. It was dark. No sign of Tony anywhere. “The kids love him, but he went a different route.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s a playboy. New woman on his arm each week. This life would’ve bored him to death.”
“Would he want Frank’s job?” Gray asked.
“Absolutely not. He wants women and booze. Frank has too many responsibilities for Tony’s liking.”
“Sorry we barged in on your party,” I said. I held out my hand to shake his in a truce.
“No worries. I figured you’d get around to me.” Sal locked his eyes on Gray’s. “Have you talked to your father?”
“We have. He hasn’t been eliminated as a possibility.”
Sal nodded and walked us to the front door. He stood holding it open but paused to ask one more question.
“What about Gracie? Have you thought of her?”
“What about her?” Gray asked. His eyes squinted and his voice deepened.
“Frank and your father are thick as thieves.” Sal laughed at his own joke. “Gracie’s always blamed both of them.”
“For what?” Gray asked.
“For making Guy leave. Gracie swears it was their fault. The problem is she doesn’t actually know what happened. It’s just a gut feeling she has.”
“Why would she think it was Frank and Michael?” I asked.
“Michael? That man will always be Costa to me. Like I said, just a feeling. I think that’s why she’s stuck around here. To find out the truth.”
Gray’s face paled as he took in Sal’s words. Garrett Costa, the heartless killer, and Michael Thomas, Gray’s dad, were one and the same person.