The door was propped wide open, the cafe busy, as it always seemed to be at the time. Gabriella walked by it on her way to catch the subway, but it was the first time she'd gone inside, the first time she visited. The Amaros owned the café, so Gabriella knew the crowd that frequented it, but she tried to separate her private life from that part of the family.
Tables covered most of the space. Gabriella scanned them, looking for someone. Her stomach churned as her eyes fixed on a small two-seater table in the back corner, Gavin Amaro sitting alone, scribbling something in a notebook.
"You can do this," she whispered before stalking over to the table and sliding into the chair across from him.
Gavin looked up at her, his pen pressed to the paper.
"Hey, uh... sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing," she said, waving at his notebook. Math equations. "Your homework or whatever, but I need to talk to someone. I need to tell someone what I know. Or what I think I know. I've got to get it off my chest, and I'm not sure who to tell. And I mean, maybe I shouldn't tell anyone. Maybe I shouldn't tell you. But I can't keep it to myself anymore, and I figure out of everyone I know, you're the least likely to blow a friggin gasket over it."
Gavin cocked his head to the side. "Gabby?"
"Yeah."
He shook his head as he closed his notebook and waved the pen her direction. "You look different not dressed like Morticia Addams. What are you doing here?"
"Did you not hear what I said?"
"Not really," he admitted. "I was busy trying to figure out why some lady wearing scrubs was suddenly sitting across from me."
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't want to interrupt, but I need to talk to someone."
"That someone being me?"
She shrugged. "I guess."
"Okay," he said, drawing out the word. "I have to warn you, though. I'm terrible at relationship advice, so if this is about a guy…"
"It's not." She paused. Crap. Was that a lie? "Well, it kind of is, but it's more than that. I don't need relationship advice. I need help."
"I'm better at helping." He leaned closer to the table. "What do you need?"
"I need to tell you something, but before I do, I need you to promise you won't go all crazy, or that you won't think I'm crazy."
"I'll do my best."
Gabriella glanced around the cafe, surveying the people near them, making sure nobody was around to overhear. She didn't recognize any faces, but it wasn't as if she would. She didn't know many people who belonged to those families.
"I, uh..." She turned back to Gavin. "I don't think they're dead."
She said nothing else. That, alone, had been hard enough.
He stared at her, expression blank. "Who?"
"Matty," she whispered, "and Genna."
She expected him to laugh or scoff or tell her to get the heck out of his face, like she was some conspiracy theorist without an ounce of common sense. But he continued to just sit there, nothing showing on his face. Not shock. Not awe. Not confusion. Nothing.
"You don't think they're dead," he said after a moment.
"No," she said. "I don't think they were in the car."
More silence.
"I live across the street," she continued, figuring she ought to explain. "I was home that night. My mom called to check on me, to tell me about Enzo's funeral. I felt bad, because I hadn't gone, and when I looked out my window, I noticed a car. Matty's car. I recognized it parked down the street. I thought about going outside to see him, to tell him I was sorry about his brother, but before I could…"
The car had exploded.
She could still see it when she closed her eyes.
It was as if it happened in slow motion.
The lights on it flashed, as if someone had unlocked it, seconds before it came to life, seconds before it exploded. The detonation had shaken her building, the fire escape rattling as the floor beneath her feet trembled.
It felt like an earthquake.
Windows shattered. Pictures fell from the walls. The fireball lit up the neighborhood.
Through it all, she stared at the car in horror.
Not a single soul had approached.
"I didn't see anyone," she said quietly. "I would've seen them."
Gavin shifted in his seat as his gaze turned to the table between them. He rubbed his mouth, as if deep in thought, like maybe he was considering what she had to say.
Her heart raced as she awaited his reaction.
After a moment, he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Interesting. And you haven't told anybody else, right?"
"Right."
"Good," he said. "Don't."
"Because I'm crazy?"
"Because you're right."
Whoa.
She blinked rapidly. "I'm right?"
Her words were louder than she meant, coming out as a screech, drawing attention from people around them. Gavin frowned, waiting until everyone looked away before nodding in confirmation.
"You knew? Why haven't you said anything?"
"Because I'm not going to," he said, "and you aren't, either."
"But—"
"Listen to me, Gabriella," he said, his voice dropping low, a hard edge to it. "You know what'll happen when people find out those two are alive? They'll die. That car blowing up wasn't an accident. It was a hit on Matty's life. They planned to leave before it happened and were committed to spending the rest of their lives on the run. This made it so they had a chance to get away without looking over their shoulders."
"You helped them," she whispered, stunned.
He didn't just know—he helped make it so.
"Of course I did," he said.
Gabriella couldn't believe it. Well, okay, she could. She suspected it, she thought it, but she figured she must be wrong. She wasn't, though.
"Dante," she whispered, her chest aching. She'd tried to tell him what she suspected a few times, but she'd been afraid to give him false hope.
"Galante?" Gavin asked. "What about him?"
"He'll want to know."
"Doesn't matter. He can't find out."
"But—" Gavin moved, like he was about to cover her mouth to silence her, but Gabriella held her hands up to block him. "It's not fair. It's not right. He's grieving. He deserves to know."
Gavin stared at her. Hard. "Were you and Enzo Barsanti close?"
She hesitated at the topic switch. "Not really. Only saw him a few times growing up. He started working for his father, and well…"
Unless you were a Barsanti, you meant nothing.
"But you and Matty were, right?"
"Close-ish. I saw him a lot more."
"So you care about what happens to him?"
"Of course."
"If Dante finds out they're alive, I'm telling you right now, Matty will end up just like Enzo."
She shook her head adamantly. "You're wrong."
"Look, I like the guy. He's not vindictive, he's not cold-blooded, but he's not innocent, either. When it comes to the people he loves, the guy has no limits. He did it before, and he'll probably do it again."
"Do what?"
"Kill."
Coldness ran through Gabriella. "Who did he kill?"
Gavin shifted in his seat, looking away from her. He wasn't going to answer that question. She'd asked too much. She knew how those things went. Don't ask; don't tell.
"Why does it matter to you, anyway? Have you ever met him?"
Gabriella didn't know what to say, so she just shrugged.
Gavin's eyes narrowed. "How do you know him?"
"Who says I know him?"
"Your face," he said. "Your face says you know him."
She scoffed.
Wrong response.
"Jesus Christ, Gabriella, don't…" Gavin ran his hands down his face, growling. "Don't tell me you know him personally."
"Is there another way to know a person?"
"Intimately," he elaborated. "Tell me you haven't seen the guy naked. Tell me
you haven't touched his dick."
A smile cracked her face at that. She wiped it away as quickly as it happened, but Gavin caught it.
"You have got to be kidding me." Gavin threw his pen down on the table. "What is it with people in this family planting shit in gardens that don't belong to them?"
Her brow furrowed. What? "We're not planting—"
"Does he know who you are? Has he figured out you're connected?"
"No, but I don't think it matters."
"You don't think so, Gabby? You're just a step removed from being a Barsanti."
She scoffed. Again. "I am not."
"You went to the man's birthday party."
"I didn't want to."
"Proves my point. The only people they force to do that shit are family. Doesn't matter how you feel about him. Matty was never a fan, either, but that didn't stop Dante from going after him."
Gabriella didn't know what to say about that. The Dante he spoke of sounded a lot like the one from the scary stories, the tales of the big bad wolf out to devour his enemies. But that wasn't the Dante she'd come to know. He was like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times. He'd bare his teeth and he might even bite, but with enough patience, with enough understanding, he'd warm up to you in no time.
"He just could really use some good news," Gabriella said. "He's drowning in so much bad. He gets in fights and goes places he shouldn't go… I heard he went to some place that Bobby owns, some bar in Soho, knowing he didn't belong there."
"Jesus Christ," Gavin grumbled.
"And I just don't see what the point of keeping it from him is when he'll find out eventually," Gabriella said. "They all will. Sooner or later, they'll put the pieces together. I'm surprised they already haven't, if there's no trace of them in the car."
"That's not my problem. They can riddle it out, but I won't be responsible for the truth getting out. I don't want their blood on my hands, and you won't want it, either. Trust me."
Gabriella's gaze headed to the window across the room, at the city outside. Instead of relieving the pressure on her chest, instead of purging her secret, she gained a bigger one.
How many lies would she have to tell to keep this one buried?
"Gabby!"
Gabriella glanced up at the sound of her name, seeing Johnny Amaro approaching. "Uncle Johnny."
"What brings you to my little part of the world?" Johnny asked.
"Just thought I'd say hey to Gavin."
"It's nice seeing you cousins hanging out," Johnny said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "Family, you know, it ain't about a name. I always said it didn't matter what they called you… what mattered was what kind of person you chose to be."
Gavin laughed. "Too bad not everyone buys into your hippie-dippie shit, Pops."
"Yeah, too bad," he agreed. "They'd stop trying to blow up their kids if they did."
Johnny squeezed her shoulder again before walking away.
Gabriella glanced at her watch before clearing her throat. "I should go. I have to catch the subway."
"I'll walk you," Gavin said, grabbing his notebook.
Neither spoke as they walked down the block. Gabriella thanked him and headed down the steps, into the underground station, when Gavin called out to her. "Hey, about Dante…"
She turned, looking at him.
"Just be careful," he said. "He's been broken, and I'm not saying he can't be fixed, but just don't break off some of your pieces trying to put his back together, because then you'll both just be broke."
She shook her head. "You were right, Gavin."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you're terrible at giving advice."
"You got a death wish, don't you?"
The cracking of balls echoed through the room, nearly drowning out the sound of that question. Dante's gaze flickered from the green felt-covered table as he stood up straight, a familiar face greeting him, although he wouldn't exactly call it friendly, based on the judgmental eyes and serious scowl.
Rare expression to see on that face.
"Amaro," Dante said by way of greeting, looking back at the table to take another turn. He hit a solid red ball, sinking it in a corner pocket. "You come to throw away your money? Because I'll be more than happy to take it."
Gavin said nothing as Dante took another turn, slamming a blue solid in a side pocket but accidentally sending the cue ball down with it. Fuck. He motioned for the other guy to go, some cocky rich kid that went to NYU and had an ass-ton of his parents' money to blow.
"You know they all know your game by now," Gavin said. "They know how good you are, but they play you because they don't think they've got a choice. So it's not much of a hustle anymore… it's more like extortion at this point."
Dante shrugged. "It pays the same."
"I guess it does. Too bad you won't stay alive long enough to spend any of it."
The boy sunk one of his striped balls, completely missing the next—intentionally, by the look of it, the cue ball breezing right past the blue number ten. Usually that wouldn't annoy Dante, but something stirred inside of him, as the boy tried to step back, waving for Dante to go.
Dante grabbed him by the back of the neck, catching him off guard, and shoved him against the table, slamming his face against the worn, green felt so he'd look at the ball he missed. "I don't need your help, asshole. I can win on my own. So you hit this goddamn ball, and you sink it in that pocket, and then I'll take my turn."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" the guy said when Dante let go of him. "My mistake!"
The guy hit the ball, sending it soaring, but it slammed the pocket at the wrong angle and bounced back out. Panicked eyes darted to Dante, but he shrugged it off. It wasn't worth the fight.
"Do you have some kind of brain damage?" Gavin asked. "Did they fuck you up so much that you forgot how things are?"
"There's nothing wrong with me," Dante said, taking his turn.
"I heard about your little field trip to Barsanti territory."
"You go there all the time."
"My last name doesn't typically get me shot on sight."
"On the contrary, it's never gotten me shot," Dante said. "Beaten, stabbed, and blown up? Sure. But nobody's shot me."
"First time for everything," Gavin said. "In fact, I'm tempted to shoot you myself just to get it over with. It wouldn't be hard. I doubt you'd even put up a fight."
Dante sunk the rest of his balls, back-to-back, before pointing at a corner pocket. The eight ball flew right into when he hit it, ending the game. He wasn't done there, though, sinking the rest of the balls for the hell of it.
Grabbing the wad of cash from the edge of the table, Dante shoved it in his pocket. "Your concern is showing, Gavin."
"Somebody ought to be concerned."
Dante set his cue stick aside, leaning it against the wall, before grabbing his beer from a small table nearby. It was piss warm from being ignored, but Dante still drank it. "I appreciate it, you know, but it's starting to weird me out. Next thing you know you're going to be writing about me in your diary."
Gavin's expression softened. "Dear Diary, Dante Galante died today because he's a fucking idiot that forgot people wanted him dead."
Despite himself, Dante laughed at that, grasping his side as pain stabbed at him. Still. Most of him had healed, but that last stab wound was brutal. "For the record, I didn't forget anything."
"So you just elected to ignore reality?"
"More like I figured it was worth the risk." He guzzled the rest of the bitter beer. "Not sure why it matters to you, anyway."
"It matters to me because of my cousin."
"Your cousin, huh?"
"Yes, my cousin."
"The one I killed or the one my father blew up?"
Gavin's expression hardened. "I'm talking about the one you're fucking."
It took a solid thirty seconds for that to register with Dante. "The one I'm fucking?"
"Gabby."
The sound of he
r name was a punch to his chest. "Gabriella?"
"That would be the one."
"Don't bullshit me, Gavin. I'm not in the mood."
"No bullshit."
Dante's guard crept up. He hadn't uttered a peep about her to anyone, choosing to keep her existence to himself, his small bright spot in a dark world. "How the hell do you even know about her?"
"I told you—she's my cousin."
"How?"
"She's a Brazzi."
"No, she's a Russo."
"Technically," Gavin said. "Her father's a Russo, but her mother's a Brazzi, so she's got Brazzi blood. And maybe that doesn't mean shit to you, since you've got nothing to do with the Brazzi family, but it matters to me. It makes her just as much my cousin as the one you killed and the one your father blew up."
Sickness churned in Dante's stomach. In a fucked up, twisted, roundabout way, it meant she was related to the Barsanti family, a fact that made Dante queasy.
He ran his hands down his face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Cousins," Dante muttered. "That means she always knew exactly who I was."
Did she ever deny knowing him? If she had, Dante couldn't recall it. From the moment he'd woken up, she acknowledged him by name, not at all intimidated by his reputation.
That's because she grew up around those assholes.
"This is…" Dante shook his head. "…fucked up."
"Look, I'm not in the business of telling anyone what to do. You're grown. I'm just saying, try to not get yourself killed as long as you're involved with Gabby."
"You don't have to worry about that."
"You're going to stop tempting death?"
"No, I'm going to stop seeing your cousin."
Dante walked away, heading to the bar at the front. Umberto sat on a stool in the far corner, angled to talk to a blonde girl seated on his left. Dante shoved in beside him, to the right, shaking his empty beer bottle at the bartender.
It was replaced instantly.
He took a long, deep pull right away, before turning, knowing Gavin had followed him. He wasn't going to let it go.
"That wasn't my intention," Gavin said.
"What was your intention?" Dante asked. "Thought you could use her to scare me straight? Thought I'd choose a piece of pussy over family loyalty?"
The moment he said that, Gavin snapped. Gone was the guy who had almost been his friend, replaced with an angry soldier from a rival family. In a blink, Gavin swung, punching him right in the mouth. Wrong choice, given he was the sole Amaro in a bar overrun with Galantes.