Something is lodged inside my throat. A pressure builds behind my eyes.
Do it. Pull the trigger. I trained you for this.
At thirteen, I listened to my father’s words.
But at twenty-seven…I don’t.
I jerk the gun out of Nero’s grip and lower it. Surprise and then relief flash in his eyes. I turn away from him and cross the room, putting some distance between us. A headache blooms inside my skull. I want to claw my fucking brains out.
Some minutes pass before Nero asks, “Why didn’t you do it?”
I shake my head, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t know.”
He huffs. “So what now?”
“We’ve got time. It’s not morning yet.”
Nero checks his watch. “Five hours until sunrise. Until Ferraro sends his army after me. How do you want to spend them?” He spreads his arms and laughs, but it’s humorless. “Not much entertainment around here. I might be able to find us a deck of cards.”
My pocket starts vibrating. I place my gun on the coffee table and dig the phone out of my jacket.
“Ferraro?” Nero asks.
I stare at the caller ID. “No. It’s De Rossi.” Why is he calling? Is Cleo with him by now? Not wanting to torture myself by wondering about it all night, I pick up. “Is she with you?”
“Yeah. We’re leaving with her in the morning.”
A heaviness settles inside my chest, but I ignore it. “Good.” The words taste like ash on my tongue.
“We heard what Ferraro wants.”
I grunt in response.
“Are you with Nero right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you figured a way out of it?”
I stare at the gun on the coffee table between Nero and me. Since I’m not going to kill Nero, Gino will. Or at least he’ll try. And how many more will die as a result?
My jaw clenches. “No. Why are you calling me?”
“Cleo asked me to see if I can help somehow. She’s inconsolable.”
An ache appears inside my chest. I crack my neck, forcing myself to ignore the sensation. “I’m all fucking ears. Ferraro expects to see a body tomorrow. If he doesn’t, he will declare war. Many will die.”
Gino told me he had an affinity for water, but he won’t hesitate to let New York City go up in flames.
De Rossi makes a thoughtful noise. “You said Ferraro wants a body.”
“Yes, a body,” I answer.
Hold on. A beat passes. “Doesn’t have to be Nero’s body,” I whisper more to myself than to De Rossi.
Across the room, my consigliere looks up at me.
“Let’s talk it through,” De Rossi says. “I’m putting you on speaker. Ras and Giorgio are here too.”
I start pacing. “Right. Garzolo had a few big guys with him. About Nero’s size.”
“He did. We could get them back for you.”
If De Rossi brings me the bodies… “I could make it look like a fire. Make them unrecognizable.”
“Gino will want the remains,” De Rossi says. “He’ll want to verify it himself.”
“Yeah. He’ll check the DNA. Nero’s been swabbed before, and Gino has contacts inside the police who’ll be able to run it through the database.”
“I can update the records they have on file,” a deeper voice says, one I recognize as Giorgio’s.
I frown at the phone. “Are you sure?”
“It won’t be a problem,” he says, not a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “But you’ll still have to figure out what to do with Nero. He won’t be able to show his face around here ever again.”
I glance at my friend. He’s got his elbows on his knees, his palms cupped in front of his face.
“He’ll have to disappear,” I say.
Nero holds my gaze.
“I can’t send him to any of my safe houses in the state,” I say. “Too risky.”
“No, he has to leave New York,” Giorgio says. “I suggest sending him a few states over. Somewhere quiet without any mob presence. He can’t be spotted by anyone who could report back to Ferraro.”
Nero must pick up on what I’m proposing, because he gets to his feet, clear protest in his eyes.
Nero in a small town? What the fuck is a big-city guy like him going to do somewhere quiet on his own? He’s not going to like this, but he doesn’t have a choice. Not when the alternatives are death or war. I need to make sure he doesn’t come back, no matter what. But how?