Page 55 of His Passerotta

“You’re going to attack?” I ask, not the least bit surprised. “Just like that?”

“I have all the evidence I need, Anthony,” he says, his tone condescending. “Put away your peace pipe and come over. We have work to do.”

The line goes dead, and I shove my phone in my pocket. I try to mentally prepare myself for the long night ahead.

I was already braced for a war against the Russians. Them, I understand. But the Irish?

I don’t like this. Something feels off. Wrong.

I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.

And I’m out of time to find out.

13

BAILEY

The last pancake sizzles when I pour it into the pan, and I stare mindlessly at the bubbles forming in the batter.

Corey should be here any minute. Any minute, I’ll have to somehow keep myself together when all I really want is to break into tears.

He almost murdered Anthony. He could’ve murdered even more people, innocent people. There’s no telling the damage that bomb could’ve done.

And there’s one more, the second one I saw Josh with. Which means they aren’t done causing damage. Aren’t done killing.

My little brother is a killer.

How could I have done this shitty of a job as a big sister? I was supposed to protect him. Now I’m protecting other people from him. And I have to pretend that isn’t the case. I have to look him in his eye and tell him everything is okay because if I open up, I’ll never get anything out of him.

Whatever he’s doing has to be stopped.

Charred batter wafts into my nostrils, pulling me away from my thoughts to register the burning pancake beneath me. I give my head a shake before turning off the burner and scraping scorched pancake into the trash.

A knock on my door makes my pulse jump, and I look that way as Corey walks in, gift bag in hand.

I stare at the small, aqua bag with tissue paper sticking out before meeting Corey’s eyes. He’s a strictly birthday gift kind of guy. What’s this for?

“Hey.”

“Good morning.” He holds the bag out for me. “This was in front of your door.”

Oh… Who…?

Anthony?

I take the bag and set it on the counter. “Thanks. Hungry?”

Corey’s eyes penetrate my back as I plate a couple of pancakes and pour syrup over them.

“Are you seeing someone?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“The present.” I spin as he gestures to the bag. “Is it from a guy?”

“Is that your business?”

His face falls like he’s genuinely hurt by that, and he takes a seat at the table. I put his plate in front of him then grab a pancake and sit, picking at little bites even as my stomach lurches.