Page 48 of Taking Care of the Target

He trusted her judgment. He just didn’t trust all the shady people who were way too interested in her right now.It’s not like Carlo or his boys couldn’t find their way into her place if they were determined enough.

On the other hand, if Cassie went with him, Carlo might thinkshewas trying to run. But what if Sal decided to pull a fast one? When Vince ran into him at Rossi’s, the guy made no attempt to hide he was holding a grudge.

I’m totally fucked every which way.

Well, the one thing he was certain of was that Cassie needed to stay away from McCarthy’s while he was gone. “Cassie, I need you to go tell Mr. Brown you need tomorrow off.”

“Are you kidding me? He’ll freak out.”

Vince’s gaze zeroed in on the door, his feet propelling him toward it. “Then I’ll go do it.”

“Wait, wait.” Cassie put a hand on Vince’s chest; it was kind of cute she thought that would stop him. “How crazy pants are you going to be over this?”

“On a scale of one to ten, I’d say a twenty.”

“I’ll go see if anyone will cover my shift. You…” She pushed him back against the wall. “Stay.”

He almost growled that he wasn’t a dog, but he supposed that would’ve been counterintuitive. She also softened the command with a kiss, so he let it slide.

When she still hadn’t come out ten minutes later, he straightened, ready to go work his powers of persuasion. But then she pushed out the door, her lips in a pouty frown, and he asked whose ass he needed to kick.

“No one’s. Tyra switched days off with me, but only after making me promise to take one of her shifts in the future.” Cassie shuddered. “I feel like I just sold my soul.”

Vince swept her hair off her face and softly kissed those pouty lips. “At least we’re on a semi-level playing field now. I sold my soul years ago.”

Now he just needed to figure out if he was going to try to convince her to stay home and lock her doors up tight or drag her to New York, where he’d most likely have to deal with shady drug dealers or loan sharks.

This was what it all came down to, right? The thing he’d been conflicted about from the very beginning. Sweat pricked his brow and acid burned the back of his throat as he realized there was no way he could keep Bobby and Cassie protected at the same time, and he’d inevitably have to choose between the girl of his dreams and his baby brother…

Chapter Twenty-Three

Carlo’s don senses tingled. It was his business to know his guys, know his territories, and know when something just wasn’t right.

He swore he heard a click on the home phone last night. Then, right after, during the meeting at the docks, he thought one of his men was baiting him, asking questions about past guys he’d snuffed out and wanting in-depth details of the next shipment. He instructed Dante to take him on a drive and make sure he wasn’t wearing a wire.

Dante cleared the guy and told him to stop asking so many fucking questions, but that didn’t ease the paranoia that had Carlo glancing in his rearview and watching his words over the phone. He swept his home, office, and car for bugs this morning and came up empty on that end, too.

But he didn’t get this far by ignoring his instincts, and he wasn’t about to start now. So he called a meeting and told Mia they weren’t to be disturbed. “Even if it’s my wife,” he made sure to add, since her last pop-in to the restaurant had started a whole snowball of shit.

They were still short a waitress, and Angelo claimed it was why they hadn’t taken in as much money; people were complaining about the slow service and looking at the wait time and leaving. Carlo almost hired one of Mia’s friends who’d put in an application, but last minute decided it simply wasn’t worth having any untrusted ears around or having another incident like the one with Cassie.

Finally, his four capos were gathered in his office. They weren’t the brightest, but they were some of the hardest. Part of the reason he wanted Vince by his side was to get a better balance. His nephew knew how to use his fists, but he also knew when to talk his way out. To think ahead. To not use fucking names over the fucking phone.

Carlo leaned his palms on his desk, sweeping his gaze across his men. “You boys are watching for tails, right? Keeping your phone conversations clean?”

They all nodded.

“Lately I’ve been feeling additional eyes on me. Be extra cautious. Get your work done, but if something smells bad, move locations. Keep details last minute. Don’t say anything that could lead back to yourselves or to me. You all know I reward loyalty. If you think you’ve got a rat, take care of it.”

His men assured him they’d be cautious and report anything out of the ordinary. Carlo dismissed them, flopped into his chair, and rubbed his temples. The stress was starting to get to him.

He pulled out his phone and tried Vince, but all he got was his voicemail.

Maybe he’d merely slipped up on that restaurant name, but Carlo didn’t have the luxury of hoping, especially now that the heat was being cranked up.

He’d expected a call from Vince by now. Either to ask for money or protection or both. He was sure he’d take off to New York to get Bobby regardless, because no matter how many times that kid screwed up, Vince dropped everything. He always gave Bobby a lengthy lecture as he was saving his ass, which was why the kid had started to call Carlo instead. Why listen to a spiel that’d make you feel guilty when your uncle would bail you out and then collect from your brother when you disappeared?

Under usual circumstances, Carlo would’ve never put up with someone skipping out instead of paying him back, but he’d let it slide. Partly because the kid was blood and his father had been killed working for him, but mostly because it kept Vince close.

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