Page 53 of City of Wind and Lies

Pressing up on my tiptoes, I reach for a glass from the upper cabinet. These were clearly organized by someone over 5’3.

“They have female doctors, don’t they? Your procedure was performed by one, no?” Bowie muses as he plucks the cup with ease and hands it to me.

Twisting the handle of the tap, I stick the glass beneath it. “Yes, but how-”

“Money,” he shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. “And if not that, fear.”

I swallow and my mouth hinges open as Bowie grabs the glass from my fingers and finishes it in one gulp. “Don’t worry, Passerotta. Money was all it took. This time.”

I’m about to tell him how he can’t just do that when my stomach growls loudly and my eyes round in surprise. His lips curve up into a grin as he places the glass on the counter.

“How about we get you two something to eat?”

18

Gravel and dirt spray behind the tires of my Escalade as I cut across the backroads toward the hangar. Rocco mutters a curse as I rip the hand brake and whip the wheel, tires screeching as we turn, picking up speed, heading down the paved drive where the gate's been crashed through. The headlights of Dallas' Range Rover flash in my side mirror when we hit the tarmac and I can see Leo and a few of the other night crew guys crowded around something near the side of the building as we skid to a stop.

"What the fuck happened?" I spit, throwing open the driver's door and not bothering to close it before I stalk towards the group. My mood is palpable as I approach. The three a.m. mayday wake-up call is one hell of a way to start my day.

Blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the sounds of the others piling out of the cars as my eyes zero in on the crimson liquid splattered across the concrete.

Leo steps aside, revealing Adrian's lifeless body lying right outside the office door. Hitching my slacks up, I crouch down beside his head, or what's left of it. Cazzo, my chest tightens at the thought of having to tell his family. Adrian was just a couple of years behind me in school and he’s been working for me since I took the mantle. His dad was one of my old man's collectors, and we often worked the door together at poker nights on the weekends.

It's stuff like that that I don't think about whenever I raise the barrel of my gun and pull the trigger. Everyone has a family, everyone is something to someone no matter how fractured or singed their soul is. All of that, the backstory, doesn't matter when it comes down to it, because we have a code and it’s the way the families have always operated.

I learned a long time ago when I was coming up to tuck that shit away. The first kill though, that’s the hardest, and no matter what, it’s the one that sticks with you. I was seventeen when the Fracassi fiasco was blazing through the outfit…

"There is no offense worse than betrayal, Bowie," my father says, shifting his eyes from the road to me and back to the road. "In business, in your relationships, and especially in la famiglia. Your word, your loyalty, that's what really makes a man."

My head bobs as I nod in response, the cold metal of my nine mil pressing into the skin of my lower back as I shift in the passenger seat of his Bentley. My stomach flips and I roll down the window, letting the cool night breeze wash over my flushed skin in an attempt to ease the anxiety that’s coursing through my veins like lava.

Switching off the headlights, my father maneuvers the car behind the trees and hedges lining the drive to Frankie Fracassi's estate. He shifts the car into park, killing the engine, and my heartbeat starts to ratchet up. Unbuckling his seat belt, he turns to face me, pinning me with a pensive stare. "It's time, my boy. Tonight is the night you become auomo d'onore.”

"What do you wanna do with him, Boss?" Leo questions, pulling me back from my thoughts.

I drag my fingers down Adrian's eyes to close them, the blood staining my fingers in the process, saying a silent apology to my friend before I stand. "Jace, get him to Harrison's. Have them rush the job and wait for the ashes," I say, finally managing to drag my eyes away from Adrian's cracked-open skull to meet the stoic faces of the guys around me. "Rhodes, you go break the news to Molly. Make sure she knows we'll take care of her and the twins."

Nodding in confirmation, they get to work as I head inside the office where Rocco’s looking at the split-feed security camera monitor. He glances over his shoulder as the door latches behind me and points to a block of static on the screen. "Looks like they shot out the camera at the entrance, probably why Adrian went outside. Caught him by surprise.”

Pointing to another square, he continues. "Guys heard the commotion, came out, fired back, got one of them in the back before the car sped off."

He clicks back to the live view and I tap the screen. “Let’s go check this guy out.”

The air is still when we step outside, the starless night punctuating the grim happenings. All you can hear is the slosh of dewey grass against our shoes as we walk in silence toward the body splayed on his side ahead of us. "Don't recognize him, do you?" I ask Rocco as I kick the guy's shoulder, rolling him onto his back.

"Nope," he replies, bending down to grab the Sig, flicking on the safety, and slipping it into his waistband. "Maybe the cameras caught something before they opened fire."

"Yeah, I'll have Dallas check the feeds further," I mutter. Taking a few steps forward, I swivel my head around, looking for anything else they could have left behind.

"I'd put money on these guys being the same ones I called you about seeing near the back fence," he says, jamming his hands into his pockets.

I hum in response, something glistening at the edge of the road a couple of yards ahead of me catching my attention. Cazzo, the sharp edge of the shattered screen slices the pad of my thumb as I scoop up the busted cell phone. Turning to Rocco, I hold it up. "Maybe we can get something off of this to help."

After we got things cleaned and patched up at the hangar, I didn't have time to go back by the house to see Wren before needing to head to the office. I've had these client meetings on my calendar for months, and no matter how tired I am, I don't want to reschedule. At least they should make the day pass quickly.

"Happy Friday, Mr. Sorrentino!" Cami chirps as I step off the elevator. "I've got the conference room ready, three carafes of coffee and assorted bagels, just as you like."

"Thanks, Cami," I nod, slipping my key into the lock and twisting the handle. "Go ahead and forward my calls to voicemail."

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