Page 57 of His Passerotta

“Yeah, well, that was the idea.”

My mouth drops open. I can’t believe he just admitted to that.

How normal is this to him?

How many people has he killed?

He sits up straight when I put a hand over my mouth, sympathy softening his face when he notices what the admittance does to me. “We weren’t targeting civilians, B, Jesus. We were targeting Anthony Gruco.”

“Why?” I ask, my heart sinking. I thought it was bad before, but hearing him say it makes the disappointment I feel so much worse.

“Because the Grucos are the ones who run the Italian mob. And he’s like, the smart one. We think he might fuck things up, but if he’s dead, he can’t influence the don or anyone else. And the don will want to avenge him.” His lips tilt up slightly like he’s proud of himself for this. “It’s perfect.”

“It isn’t perfect,” I grit, my hands balling into fists. “It’s sick. You don’t even know this guy. You don’t know if he deserves to die.”

“He’s a capo for the Italian mafia…” Corey says like I’m an idiot for needing him to spell it out for me.

“He’s…”

He’s what? A good person?

Of course not. But he isn’t evil. He’s different. He’s… I don’t know. But I can’t let him die.

“What?” Corey presses.

“He’s the one who let me go the other night, when I got caught at La Divina. He could’ve killed me, but he didn’t.”

Corey frowns, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Okay… Do you feel like you owe him or something? Because you’re not a part of this, so you have nothing to feel guilty for.”

“I’m not fucking guilty, but I’m telling you, he isn’t a bad person. You shouldn’t hurt him.”

Corey rubs his jaw, his eyes roaming while he thinks. Several seconds pass before he speaks. “You said there were multiple mob guys there, one named Finn who I’m pretty sure is an Irish enforcer. Were any of the others Russian?”

I think for a second, trying to see where he’s going with this before I answer. I don’t know. “Yes.”

“See?” Corey exclaims, his hands flying. “The meeting was at La Divina, which means Gruco called it. He must’ve been trying to sort it out when I know the Russians would’ve just acted, especially after the photos we sent them. He’s a problem.”

“What? He?—”

“If they figure us out, I’m dead.”

My mouth closes as an icy embrace wraps around me and squeezes, pushing the air from my lungs.

“Not only that, but they’ll assume you were spying for me that night, and they’ll kill you too.” He leans over to put his hand over mine, and if I wasn’t frozen, I’d pull away. “Trust me, with this guy out of the way, we’re fine. But as long as he’s breathing, he’s a problem.”

Corey’s phone chirps, and he pulls it from his pocket for a brief moment before standing. “I gotta go. Thanks for breakfast.” He steps toward the exit but stops to put a hand on my shoulder. “Trust me, it’s gonna be okay.”

With that, he leaves, and I’m left alone with a ball of lead in my throat.

Anthony seemed clueless to me last night. He shouldn’t have to die…

But what if Corey’s right? What if he figures out who planted the bomb or whatever else Corey’s stupid fucking gang has done?

Corey’s dead. No question. And I most likely am too.

So Anthony can’t know … but that doesn’t mean he has to die. It just means he needs to have someone watch him, make sure his attention is on the other mobs. Or even better, distracted entirely.

My eyes move to the gift bag on the counter, and I get up to retrieve it. I toss the tissue paper into the trash can then pull out a box covered in a thin plastic wrapping. It’s an iPhone. One five generations newer than the one Hugh crushed.

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