by Meghan March
That’s when it hits me. I’m not the one being pushed aside tonight. With a glance over my right shoulder, I confirm that Enzo stares daggers my way from the table with the capos who don’t want him to lead.
Enzo says he’s family, but Dom put all the family at one table. Is this Dom’s way of making a statement?
I meet my father’s gaze, but he’s too busy laughing and trading stories with Eden and Greer at the other end of the table for me to get a read on him.
I count the chairs. Five on one side. Four on the other.
If he’d wanted Enzo at this table, with the family, there was room for another chair.
It is a statement. I’d stake my life on it. Now, what the hell am I going to do about it?
We’re finishing up the main course when Greer pulls out her phone and smiles. She gives Creighton a nod, and he stands.
“Dom, if you’d like, your birthday present from all of us is here and ready for you to see.”
The old man’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning, and I try to shove down the jealousy that all of us doesn’t include me.
“Of course I want to see it. I can eat Andre’s veal parm any damn time.” He looks from side to side. “Where’s it at? They bringing it inside?”
Crey points at the door. “It’s outside. You definitely don’t want it coming in.”
Dom pops out of his seat with the agility of a man half his age. “Then we’re going outside.” He holds out his arms to signal to the rest of the attendees. “Come on, it’s time for my gift. Let’s go see what it is.”
The entire crowd funnels toward the doors, and Memphis and I are a few people back from Dom when we hear a woman yell, “Happy birthday, Dom!”
When we reach the sidewalk, a flatbed fifth-wheel trailer hooked up to a massive black dually truck is parked at the curb. On the flatbed is a car, sheltered under a cover with a giant red bow on top. Banner and Logan Brantley stand in front of the trailer with huge smiles on their faces.
Banner, no doubt, because she gets to see Greer—who rushes off the sidewalk to wrap her best friend in a hug. And Logan must be grinning because he made bank on this project. His restorations aren’t cheap. I would know, because he’s working on one for me right now. It doesn’t matter that he’s all the way down in Kentucky. He’s the best.
Dom stands on the edge of the walkway, staring at the car. He turns around and glances at Creighton, his eyes wide, and more excited than I’ve ever seen him. I shove down the anger at being excluded from the gift and embrace the moment.
Dom’s happy, and that’s not something we see often.
“Well, let’s see it!” Dom shouts at the head of the small crowd.
Creighton nods at Logan, who steps up onto the trailer and holds out his hand for Banner. Together they work to remove the cover slowly, so we can all savor the unveiling. As soon as the shiny red paint catches the light and the Ferrari logo is unveiled, Dom’s mouth drops open.
The old man claps his hands more like a seven-year-old than a seventy-year-old when he realizes what he’s looking at. “That’s a 275 GTB. Holy shit.”
As Dom walks forward to run a hand along the perfectly waxed and buffed rear quarter panel, I catch a glimpse of a black Charger parked across the street, its windows tinted so dark you can’t see in them.
I’d be willing to bet that sitting inside that car, behind those tinted windows, is Clinton Cole or one of his buddies, surveilling the entire fucking party.
Welcome to the mob, where your every family, birthday, and holiday gathering is watched and photographed by the cops.
“She’s a 1964,” Logan says. “Creighton and Cav said you’d always wanted one, so we found it for you and did a little work to make her shine.”
Knowing Logan, he’s vastly understating the amount of effort it took to get the car to this condition, but Dom is too busy skimming his fingertips across the paint to care.
“Best fucking birthday I’ve ever had. Nothing after this will ever—”
Dom’s head jerks to the side, cutting off his words, as gunfire erupts.
24
Memphis
“Down!” Dom yells the word, and the entire crowd of people freezes for a second before following his instructions.
As the rat-tat-tat of automatic weapon fire fills the air and glass shatters everywhere, I throw myself at Cannon, sending us both tumbling to the ground. He tries to shield me as he moves us toward the tires of the truck, and I reach out my hand to Dom, trying to catch him and drag him closer to cover. Cannon sees what I’m trying to do and shoves me lower as he grabs his father’s arm and pulls him toward us.
Dom’s face is bleached white and he already has a gun in his hand, but he’s frozen beside us as we huddle behind the tire.
Gunfire breaks out from our side of the street, and I don’t want to move my head to see who’s shooting at who. With every explosion deafening me, I cringe into a smaller and smaller ball, thankful for the thud of Cannon’s beating heart against me.
I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him. No matter what.
Tires squeal, and the acrid scent of gunpowder mingles with the stench of burning rubber.
For a moment, all I hear is the ringing in my ears along with the whoosh of blood.
Cannon’s grip on me tightens when I try to move. “No, stay down. They could come back. Sometimes they fucking come back.”
But instead of more squealing tires, sirens wail in the distance as people begin shouting.
“Gotta. Follow. Them.”
The stilted, wheezy words come from Dom, and I shift to see the older man’s face. I’ve never seen a living person’s face turn that color gray. One of his hands clutches the lapel of his jacket . . .
Oh Jesus Christ. No.
“Cannon! Cannon! We need an ambulance. Now!”
He replies, his voice cloaked in dread, “We’re going to need more than one.”
“Dom needs one. Right now. Right now!”
Other people are yelling for help, but Cannon’s attention is on his father.
“My heart,” Dom says before letting his eyes flutter shut.
I stand up, screaming for help, but my shouts disappear in the chaos. It’s a war zone. Blood stains clothes and the sidewalk.
“I got every bus I can find coming this way.”
I look toward the voice, stunned to see Clinton Cole standing beside me.
“Help’s coming,” he says.
“Who . . .” Dom opens his eyes, and Cannon cradles him in his lap. “Did you see who . . .”
Benny drops to his knees beside Cannon. “It was that fucking bastard GTR. We’re gonna kill the Rossettis. Every single damn one of them. Put them in the fucking ground.”
“Damn . . . right . . . we are.” Dom meets Cannon’s gaze, and I’m terrified he won’t be able to hold on long enough for the ambulance to arrive.
“I’m gonna kill ’em all.” Enzo stumbles to a stop near Benny, his shirt stained with blood, one hand pressed to his side and the other holding a gun. “Then you’ll know I’m worthy.”
“Save your declarations of war for when you don’t have a cop standing right in front of you, assholes,” Cole says as Enzo tilts to one side and clutches at Cole to stay up.
Eden rushes toward us and throws herself into Cannon’s arms. “Greer and Crey both got hit. We need help. Now!”
25
Cannon
I hate hospitals. Everything about them. From the white walls, to the industrial floors, to the scent of disinfectant. Most of all, I hate that you walk inside with a sense of hope, only to get robbed of it later when the doctor comes out to give you the bad news.
It isn’t the same hospital I sat in, waiting for news about my mother in surgery, but it might as well be.
Dom didn’t get capped, but his heart couldn’t handle the stress. Creighton, Enzo, and four others were shot. Greer caught some flying glass, but thankfully not a bullet. How the rest of us survived uns
cathed while the Rossettis were shooting at us like fish in a barrel, I’ll never understand.
Grace of God, I guess.
The entire waiting room is packed with people I’ve known my entire life, or most of it, waiting on the same news.
Will the king survive?
Memphis gets up to go to the restroom with Holly, who’s barely holding it together, and Benny sits down beside me.
“You know he’s been having heart problems, right?” he asks.
“What?” I whip my head to the side. “No. He never said anything.”
With a nod, Benny dangles his paper coffee cup from one hand. “He’s been seeing a doctor regularly for it over the last year. Been too stubborn to take the doc’s advice. Couldn’t wrap his head around the downtime. Didn’t want to show weakness at such a sensitive time.”
“And he told you all this? Shit, I can’t believe he told anyone.” Show no weakness might as well be the creed that Dominic Casso lives by. And possibly dies by, coincidentally.
“He only told me because, well, he knows I’m not gonna be here long enough to tell anyone else. But you deserve to know too, kid,” Benny says.
“What do you mean?”
His gaze dips to the floor before coming up to meet mine. “You don’t live like I did and get to have a happily-ever-after. Karma’s a bitch, and she always takes her due. I’ve got lung cancer. Terminal. Maybe six or eight months, if I’m lucky.”
“Jesus, Benny. Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs, his shoulders appearing bonier than ever under the blue Hawaiian shirt, now that I’m really looking. “Not shit anyone can do. I’m not fighting it. I deserve it. Hell, I deserve worse for all the terrible things I’ve done.”
Never once have I heard Benny speak about the lives he ended on Dom’s orders. Never have I heard regret from him. He doesn’t seem to need an answer from me, because he keeps going.
“Dom’s gonna pull through this, and once he does, you need to tell him you’re out. You’re better than this, kid. You don’t need this life. It’s not for you.”
“Then who the hell is it for?” I ask, because I sure as shit don’t know.
“Punks like Enzo who don’t have anything to lose. You got that woman of yours, and no matter who she really is, she’s worth so much more than this.”
I cut my gaze to his. “What do you mean, no matter who she really is?”
Benny’s fingers curl around the paper coffee cup that he still hasn’t taken a drink from. “You forget, I spent a lifetime studying people in all sorts of ways. Something ain’t right about her.”
“Leave it alone, Benny. I have it under control,” I tell him, hoping it’ll stop him from prying, but it doesn’t.
“I saw her eyes, kid. The only reason she’d be covering those up is because she doesn’t want anyone to know who she is. Doesn’t want anyone to remember her. I told her if she fucked you over, I’d take care of her myself.”
My chair is uncomfortable and gets less tolerable by the second. I shift closer to allow our conversation to stay discreet. “Jesus Christ, old man. Don’t you dare touch a fucking hair on her head. I know exactly who she is and why she’s hiding.”
“You sure about that? Because the last woman I saw who had eyes like that was killed in a bloodbath that started a feud that still hasn’t ended.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He coughs and hacks, finally catching his shallow breath. “It’s just a feeling, but my gut has saved my life more than once, and I don’t think it’s wrong this time either.”
I need to know. “What woman?”
Holly and Memphis walk toward us, and Benny goes quiet. Before I can ask him again, a doctor steps into the waiting room.
“Is the Karas family here?”
I jump out of my seat and head for Holly and Memphis. Holly holds out her arm, and I take it. Cav is right behind her.
“Yes,” she says. “We’re the Karas family. Please, God, tell us he’s okay.”
26
Cannon
Holly huddles at Creighton’s bedside, where he’s slipped in and out of consciousness over the last few hours since he’s been out of recovery. A bullet nicked his spleen, but they were able to repair it and his prognosis is excellent.
Thankfully, the ER got Greer stitched up from the shard of flying glass that sliced her arm, and she and Cav just left Creighton’s room to give Holly some time alone.
Dom and Enzo are both still in surgery, but we’ve only gotten updates about Dom. He had a fully blocked artery, and they’re working on the bypass and the stent.
Throughout it all, Memphis has been a rock. She’s calm, collected, offering a shoulder to cry on to Holly, and making sure Cav and Greer have everything they need. It’s like she’s already more part of the family than I ever have been, and I’m fucking glad.
Every time she makes another round, going from one person to the next, she stops beside me, curls into my side, and lets me hold her until we’re both ready to keep pushing on.
It’s closing in on midnight, and the halls of the hospital have quieted. Only nurses in scrubs or patients in gowns walk soundlessly behind us, as if not wanting to disturb our vigil.
“Have they given another update on Dom?” she asks, standing beside me.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her to my side. “Not yet. I’m hoping he’ll be out of surgery anytime.”
“Do we need to be worrying?”
I glance down at her troubled tone. “What do you mean?”
She looks in one direction and then the other, double-checking to see if we’re truly alone before speaking. “The Rossettis. Are they going to try again? Do we need security here? What about when we leave?”
My brain has been running in the same direction, but I’ve been deliberately keeping it to myself since we’ve been in the hospital. “I don’t think the Rossettis are bold enough to try to get to us here.”
“What about when we leave, though? Eden said something about a hotel, but that doesn’t seem like a smart idea.”
A janitor pushes a cleaning cart down the hall, and we both wait for him to pass before continuing our conversation. Part of me hates that Memphis is now as aware as I am, but the other part of me is glad. A little paranoia is a good thing when it comes to keeping safe.
“No one’s going to a hotel,” I tell her with a squeeze to her hand. “It’s not secure enough.”
She looks tired, and it’s clear the night has taken a toll on her. “Then where are they all going to go?”
“Dom’s brownstone. It’s one of the safest places in the city. Primo and Warren are waiting in SUVs out front, so transport won’t be a problem either.”
Memphis turns to glance over her shoulder in the direction of the seating area where Eden, Bishop, and the others wait for news. “You think they’ll leave here without Dom?”
“They’ll do whatever I tell them to.”
Her brow furrows with confusion. “They will?”
I nod, about to say words I never expected to admit out loud. “Yeah, because with Dom and Enzo both out of commission, I’m in charge of the Casso family.”
27
Memphis
Cannon’s in charge of the Casso family. I don’t know why the realization surprises me, but the shock waves vibrating through my body are from exactly that.
He lets go of my hand as a doctor enters Creighton’s room and approaches Holly. “I’m going to listen to what he says, okay?”
I release his hand, knowing that Holly needs him more than I do right now. “Go. I’ll be in the waiting room seeing if anyone needs anything. Do what you need to do.”
His lips brush over my forehead before he enters Creighton’s room and stands behind Holly’s chair, his hands on her shoulders. Holly reaches up and squeezes Cannon’s hand for support.
Good. After this, I hope like hell Creighton Karas realizes that he’s an asshole for pushing Cannon out of
his life, especially when there’s literally nothing Cannon wouldn’t do for him.
I watch them for a few more moments before making my way back to the waiting room. Inside, everyone is starting to droop. Or rather, long past starting to droop. Cav sits on a sofa and Greer leans back in his arms, her eyes closed.
I assume that they gave her painkillers for her stitches and they’re probably knocking her out. Bishop stands in a corner, where he leans with both arms crossed. Eden stops pacing the room and asks if Greer is okay before she steps out to take yet another walk down the hall to check on her other family members. Benny’s asleep with his feet up on a coffee table and a National Geographic magazine spread out on his chest.
I barely know these people, but they’ve already become so very dear to me because I know how much they mean to Cannon. They’re the family he desperately wants to be close to, but given his history, he’s willing to take whatever he can get. Even if, like from Creighton and Dom, all he can get is scraps.
A flame of anger ignites in me when I think about how they’ve treated him. It’s not fucking fair. Right there, in the surgery waiting room of New York Presbyterian, I make a vow.
Every single piece of me that he wants? It’s his. I’m not holding anything back. He deserves everything.
“He’s awake!” Eden’s voice pierces the silence of the waiting room, and we all freeze for a beat before bursting into movement.
Benny jerks and the magazine tumbles to the floor. Cav holds Greer stable so she can’t jostle her new sutures.
“Who’s awake?” Bishop asks his wife as he pushes off the wall to stand behind her and look through the glass window.
“Creighton! He’s holding Holly’s hand and talking!”
28
Cannon