Page 36 of Caged Bliss

“Fuck the Don. He’s my brother.”

“Yeah, and I’m your sister, and I wish you’d listen to me sometimes.” She tilts her head from side to side and sips her wine. “At least don’t get yourself killed. Can we agree on that much?”

“I’ll do my best.” Fortunately, she hasn’t noticed the bandaged arm hidden by the sleeve of my button-down.

“Great.” She shoves a piece of paper at me. “Seamus says sorry and he told me to give you this.”

I stare at the page. “What’s that?”

“Roc’s address. I would’ve given it to you if you had just asked, you asshole.” She finishes the wine and gets up. “And no, I’m not going to tell Simon, and yes, I feel a little bad about that. Oh, well, that’s life.”

She walks to the door. I stare after her, not sure how to feel about this turn. “How’d Seamus get caught, anyway? Did he come clean?”

“Brody got wind of him snooping around Famiglia business. Seriously, just ask me next time. I’m on your side.”

I watch her go. The door shuts behind her, and I wonder if that’s true. If there’s anyone on my team except for me. Elena would rat me out to Simon in a heartbeat if she thought I was doing something truly stupid, like trying to take down Tommy.

There’s Claudia at least. We’re aligned, and she doesn’t give a damn if my mission goes against my brother’s wishes. So long as she gets what she wants.

I unfold the paper and smile at the address.

It’s not far from here.

Chapter 19

Claudia

Cage is bustling on a Saturday night. I’m not on dancing duty for once and I’m grateful for it as I weave my way through the crowd balancing a drink tray. I’m in black sneakers, extremely black shorts, and a tank top so tight it might as well not exist. Gold earrings dangle and a gold cross necklace glitters between my tits. More than one client commented on how much he loves Jesus tonight. It was funny the first time but got old by the tenth.

I hate that I’m back here. I’ve been replaying the bathroom incident in my head for the past few days, and every time my shift comes up and I have to get ready, I tell myself I can take some time off. Except I never do. What if tonight’s the night Serena’s ready to get away and I’m not there to help her? I keep dragging myself to work on the off chance that my sister might hit rock bottom and reach across the vast divide that keeps us apart.

It doesn’t happen. Obviously, it doesn’t. I feel stupid and alone in this enormous, packed night club.

The only thing keeping me sane is Angelo. Which is bizarre considering his request is crazy. I should be losing it all the time, but instead I find myself watching Tommy from a distance whenever I get the chance, paying particular attention to his phone. I know the code—assuming he hasn’t changed it—thanks to Serena drunkenly bragging about it a couple of months back. He always has it with him, but he doesn’t like to keep it in his pants. Instead, he takes it out and leaves it on a table, usually right in front of him, but Tommy isn’t perfect. He wanders away, leaves it unattended. And their parties get rowdy sometimes. Devices get knocked to the floor. People get drunk and high and forgetful.

I can exploit that if I’m careful.

Rodrigo finds me halfway through my shift and drags me up to the private rooms. “Tommy has a gathering,” he explains on the way. “An important gathering. He needs you to waitress.”

“I can do that. Anyone I know?”

Rodrigo gives me a look that suggests I shouldn’t know anyone, anywhere, ever. Message received.

They’re on the second floor in room 5, one of the nicest we have. It looks like an English hunting lodge with intricately wood-paneled walls, a real working marble fireplace, leather wingback chairs, antique lamps, and thick fancy rugs. Tommy’s sitting next to the fire with three men in suits, none of whom I’ve seen before, and they’re all drinking dark liquor and laughing about something. I catch tattoos and the flash of a gun tucked into a shoulder holster.

Serena lingers near the bookshelf, looking bored. She nods when I enter the room and I ask if she needs anything. “You’re still here,” she says, but I can’t tell if she’s upset about that. I’m tempted to point out that I’ve seen her every night for the past few nights since the bathroom incident, but it’s too depressing. “Vodka tonic. Please and thank you.”

I take drink orders from the men. Tommy wants his best bottle of scotch brought up and his guests seem to think that’s a splendid idea. They speak with thick accents, eastern European sounding, maybe Russian or something Baltic, I can’t really tell. Tommy’s phone is on the coffee table next to some empty water glasses, totally ignored.

They laugh again at something as I walk away and I get the distinct sensation that it’s at my expense. Serena stares at me from her spot near the shelves.

I rush out of there and have to take a minute to calm myself down. I don’t know why but those guys bother me. It’s something about their accents, and something about what Angelo mentioned the other night. I close my eyes, trying to remember.

He asked about someone with a Serbian last name.

It’s possible those men in there have Serbian accents. I can’t really be sure. Tommy does business with a lot of people and many of them are from crime families. It wouldn’t be unusual if he were meeting with representatives of the local Bratva or something.

But it’s too much of a coincidence. I shoot Angelo a text.

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