Page 28 of Deadly Target
Alfie had sued the grocery store company and won several million dollars. His dad was incarcerated at that point and Frankie had offered Alfie his father’s job, alluding to the idea that Frankie would keep Lorenzo Barone safe in prison and keep his father’s spot in the mob family open so when he got out, he could return to the family. But only if Alfie took his place until Lorenzo was released. Lorenzo had received a sentence of seventeen years, and still had ten left. One thing was for sure, Alfie protected his family.
Grabbing a bottle opener, Olivia went to work on the Merlot’s cork. “Where’s Mary Margaret?”
Alfie pulled down two wine glasses and set them next to the bottles. “She’s at a birthday sleepover. Kid was all excited about it. She keeps to herself most of the time, a real introvert, and doesn’t make friends easily. I don’t understand it. She’s bright, cute, and funny. What’s wrong with kids these days?”
So it was just the two of them tonight. She’d left her weapon in the car down the street, not sure if the girl would be inside. They’d only met a couple of times briefly. Alfie always made sure Mary Margaret was safely out of the house whenever Olivia was coming over. “Kids are tough on each other, especially girls. It’s good that she’s at a friend’s, for her and us. We won’t have to censor what we talk about.”
“True.” Alfie grinned, and went back to stirring the gravy. A timer dinged on the stove. He turned off one burner and drained the pasta. “but first, we eat and have a decent glass of wine.”
As if she were back home, Olivia took the two glasses to the table and laid out place settings while Alfie brought out the garlic bread and salad. He loaded two plates with pasta, sprinkling shredded parmesan on top of his amazing sauce and hustled them over. Shucking off his apron, he sat, then lifted his glass in salute. “To strong family alliances.”
Olivia raised her fork instead of her glass. “We are not family, Alfie.”
“You wouldn’t be disrespecting me at my own dinner table, now would you? We’re not enemies tonight. Quit trying to pick a fight and be nice. I made you food. We’re family.”
Family was an elusive word. She had one, but she didn’t. She wanted one, but she didn’t. What was it about this guy that made her put down the fork and raise her glass? Maybe she could blame it on her good manners, rather than him pulling on her heartstrings.
He clinked his glass against hers and drank half in one gulp. Working his lips around, his brow knitted. “Where did you get this? Tastes like cheap ass crap.”
“I’m all out of the good stuff.”
He eyed her as he shoveled pasta into his mouth and chewed. “I like that stuff from the Sacramento winery.”
So did she, but he’d finished off her last bottle during their previous meal. “That’s my favorite too, but I don’t have any more. You drank it all.”
He grunted. “When you heading north again? Next time you hit the winery, buy extra.”
“I’m a little busy down here, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He handed her the basket of garlic bread. “You work too much.”
“I have a lot of mob guys to put behind bars.”
He rolled his eyes and continued to eat. “We need to find you a safer job.”
The pasta was awesome, and the garlic bread homemade. Olivia savored the blend of bread and butter, trying to ignore the emotions Alfie’s concern elicited. He sounded like her mother, like her brother, God rest his soul.
It’s fake. Don’t be gullible.“I wouldn’t have to work so much if you would get me the evidence I need against Frankie B and Gino.”
His dark eyes scanned her face, as if he were trying to read her mind. “DeStefano didn’t kill your brother, you know.”
The words attacked her like a sharp knife slicing into her stomach. She could barely find her voice. “You know who killed Dezi?”
He waived off the question. “Course not. If I did, I’d take the guy out for you. What I do know is that Gino DeStefano didn’t pull the trigger.”
Her stomach felt like she’d eaten ice cubes rather than pasta. In her mind, she saw her brother on the ground in that wet, dark alley, his blood running into the puddles around him. “How do you know? Who did pull the trigger, Alfie?”
“Someone—not Gino, though—wanted to send a message to your old man. Dezi got caught in the crossfire, simple as that.”
Everything in her continued to feel cold as ice, frozen. Alfie had never volunteered information about her brother’s murder. She hadn’t realized he even knew the specifics of what had happened. “What message?”
He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Felix was always pissing everybody off. He had big plans, you know. He liked to push people around, get rid of those who didn’t agree with his vision of how things should be. My guess is he pushed the wrong person and they pushed back. Might not have even been anyone in the family. Maybe it was a dirty cop or something.”
“My father was a hitman in Chicago with the Carlota syndicate, in direct competition with the Fifty-seven Gang. It was someone in the mob, I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe. Whoever did it wanted your dad to back off, but he didn’t.”
“Yeah, well, the job always came before the family.”
