Page 33 of Assistant to the Mafia

Grace drew a breath. “DSI, please.” Everything was happening so fast. She could feel her chest constricting as her mind tumbled through the blissfully fantastic, sometimes terrifying highlights. It hadn’t yet been twelve hours since she’d laid eyes on her first-ever dead body and now she was talking about marriage and starting a family. That couldn’t be healthy. Her throat constricted. She needed something else to focus on. “It’s Al, right?”

Her driver cut a quick glance to her through the rearview mirror before returning his focus to the road, having slipped into traffic while her mind had been spiraling. “Alfonso Adimari III,” he replied, “but I prefer Al.”

Wow. That was the kind of name that could leave an impact, but he just went by Al and was simply driving people around. “Is your family local?” She didn’t need to know, but then again, she would prefer not to feel like she was strangers with the man who might be responsible for her safety when she went out without Romeo.

Al chuckled as he accelerated onto the interstate. “Yes and no,” he said. “My nonno’s full-blooded Italian, but he lived in New York for about fifteen years. Long time ago. So when my old man turned eighteen, he moved out this way to follow in his father’s footsteps, except my old man went and found a pretty American girl and decided to stay.” He chuckled again. “They moved outta New York after they got married, and my old man found work with the De Salvo family shortly after I was born.”

Grace’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered that the mafia legacy she had only just learned about went so far back. It makes sense, really. For all the wealth and manpower they seemed to have, at least.

She was so distracted she almost didn’t notice the SUV slowing down. A quick glance out her window confirmed what she was sure she knew—they were still on the interstate and definitely nowhere near DS Industries. “Al?”

“Please stay in your seat, ma’am,” he said, the joviality gone from his tone. It looked like he was gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

She leaned to the side so she could see around the empty passenger seat and out the windshield, and her eyes widened. There was a vehicle slightly ahead of them, in the other lane, but the reason the SUV had stopped had nothing to do with that vehicle. There was a massive crowd of people standing across the road, stretching from one end to the other. “Some kind of protest?”

Al brought the SUV to a complete stop. “Looks that way. I think I even see coolers. They’re here for the long haul.”

Grace slumped against the seat in exasperation. She did not have time for this. And they weren’t even waving signs or something. What good was their so-called protest? Her gaze shifted back out the side window. Something bad enough to call her in had popped up at work, and now she might not even make it. This has to be a sign… Her gaze landed a glimmer of hope. A small off-ramp that, while not leading directly where she needed, would land them on a side-street that would later connect to a main road. “Al, can you get to the ramp? Let’s just go the long way.”

He made a sound of hesitation. “That route’s not approved…”

Grace heaved a sigh. “I can’t imagine Romeo would prefer you leave us sitting in traffic, at the front of a line of protestors who couldn’t be bothered to label themselves, where we can easily get pinned down.” She twisted in her seat enough to look behind them. Traffic was oddly light, making her wonder if word had spread about the protest and they’d missed it. “We should move while we can.”

He tapped the steering wheel. “Yeah, okay.” A moment later the SUV was backing up, Grace thought she saw one of the protestors wave an angry fist in their direction, and Al was swinging around. It wasn’t the proper angle to catch the ramp, but without other traffic, it was doable. And as long as no one got hurt, who cared?

Grace breathed a sigh of relief as they glided down the off-ramp seconds later, quickly putting the random crowd behind her. “Thank you, Al.”

“I apologize for my hesitation, ma’am.”

“None necessary. I’m sure you have rules you’re supposed to adhere to.” She actually had no idea what those might be, but apparently, they included pre-approved routes.

He didn’t respond and they fell into comfortable silence, allowing her time to appreciate the quieter, less-traveled side road. It was a little curvy, but that only made it feel like a scenic detour, and her gaze drifted out to the skyline. Already she could see the towering downtown skyscrapers looming ahead. She thought perhaps she should take this kind of route more often, for its peacefulness.

“What the—” Al suddenly threw the SUV into a sharp sideways motion and shouted at her. “Head down!”

Grace jerked against her seat, caught completely off-guard, and before she could process his words or question his actions everything exploded into a sea of glass and screaming noise.

I’m coming for what’s mine

Romeo waved the single piece of paper, now partially crumpled, in the face of the on-site team leader. “This is why I had to rush down here? Five fucking words Mikey could have read to me over the goddamn phone?” He was pissed. He was pissed at the inconvenience, he was pissed at the continuing mystery, and he was incredibly pissed at Dante. They were going to have words, probably loud ones, and he no longer cared.

All they had asked for was one fucking day. Grace wanted one goddamn day to recover from the trauma of having her life turned upside down, and instead he’d yanked her back to work not twelve hours later.

The man in front of him shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I—we— It seemed important.”

Romeo swept his arm toward the wreckage of the rental car behind them. “It’s a fucking rental car. Mikey already has all the video and digital copies of every single paper attached to it. You have eyes. If we knew who owned that stupid damn wig, we’d have put out the word. But all the bitch left in that car was her disguise.” He could hear his voice going up, he could see the men around them staring uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. “What’s so damn important about that shit? When did I become a goddamn detective who goes around scrutinizing crashed cars? You know what I can tell you? I can tell you what you can see for your-fucking-selves. There’s no blood. The damn driver’s side door was popped open, and the car’s still in neutral. Clearly someone thought rolling it into that tree would make it look worse than it is. You didn’t need me for that!”

“N-no, sir,” the man in front of him said. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Rome!” Mo grabbed hold of his nearest shoulder with more urgency than Romeo’s raving mouth really called for.

Romeo sucked in a breath and took a single step away from the guy he wasn’t truly mad at. Mostly. He grunted. “We’re done here, let’s just—”

“No,” Mo said, talking over him. Which was unusual. “I just got word. The Aviator’s signal just went offline.”

Romeo’s blood went cold. Slowly, as if he had to remember how, Romeo turned. “What?”

Mo released him. “Looks like they took a detour, we don’t know why, and then…” He shook his head. “The car’s gone.”

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