Page 94 of Tainted Princess
“No,” he said, staring out the windows overlooking the Strip. “He’s not. But that’s not for lack of trying. He was shot in the head, but whoever it was is either a terrible shot, or Don Carlo moves faster than the average old man. The bullet just clipped him.” Eric turned back to me. “He’s alive, but he’s in a coma.”
The information was slowly starting to penetrate the fog in my brain. It seemed I wasn’t as recovered from yesterday as I had thought. Pulling myself gently out of Enzo’s hold, I took the vacant seat at the table, between the two men.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll book a flight back to New York later today. I’ll stay at my father’s brownstone and then I can—”
“You can’t go back there, Francesca,” Eric cut across my rambling, panicked words.
“What do you mean, I can’t go back there? It’s my home. This is my family.”My Don.
I kept those last words inside me, as I always did. I’d never been acknowledged as Made by anyone within the syndicate, and at this point I was so used to keeping the secret that it was instinctual now.
“What I mean is there is a lot more to tell you.”
“Well, don’t be all fuckin’ day about it,” Enzo snarled. “What the fuck is the issue with her going back to New York?” I noticed he didn’t refer to New York as my home, but I chose not to consider the distinction at the moment.
“What I mean is the bureau has been picking up a ton of chatter in that area and it seems someone is out to end the entire De Marco line.”
“What?”
Eric met my gaze and sighed. “There’s a hit out on you, Francesca. A hundred thousand dollars to whoever can prove you’re dead.”
“A hundred grand?” Enzo burst out. “That’s it? For a Mafia Princess? That’s fuckin’ insulting.”
“A tainted princess,” Eric said with an apologetic grimace. “She’s not worth much to anyone these days.”
“You watch your fuckin’ mouth, you sorry fuck,” Enzo stood, leaning menacingly over the table and glaring at Eric. “That’s my wife, and you’ll fuckin’ remember who you’re talking to.”
“Enzo,” I drawled, not fighting the small smile that crept onto my face at his indignation. “I think the whole ‘wanting me dead’ in the first place is insulting enough. Let’s not squabble over the fee, okay?”
“He’s right,” Eric cut in. “It’s a low-ball number for sure. A year ago, it would have been an easy half million. But things have, uh, changed,” he finished lamely, and I glared at him.
“Yeah, because you fucking changed them.”
“Look, Francesca,” he said, and I could see the remorse all over his face. “Things got out of hand, and for that I’m sorry.” I snorted but didn’t say anything. “I’ve left the organized crime division of the bureau, but I have been keeping tabs on things, and I wanted you to know what was going on. I want—” he cut his eyes to Enzo, before looking back at me and continuing, “Ineedyou to be safe. Please, just, stay out of New York.”
I didn’t respond, a million thoughts running through my mind, but things were slowly starting to click into place. I looked at Enzo, the concerned frown on his face was more endearing than it probably should have been, but I was done fretting over things like that.
I was all in with Enzo now, and if I got burned, it wouldn’t be anything that I couldn’t handle.
I’d proven that once before.
“Enzo, I need to call Vinnie. He should know what’s happening. I’d like to see about getting him situated closer to me, maybe a room at a nearby hotel?” Enzo opened his mouth, but I kept going, standing from the table and retrieving my purse where someone had left it by the door. “I should also see what Lexi can find; she’ll probably be able to turn over a few stones that the FBI wouldn’t think to look under.”
Opening my purse, I withdrew my phone, which was almost dead, and my gun, noting the surprise on Enzo’s face. I checked the safety and placed the gun on the table next to Enzo’s, then texted Vinnie to come over right away.
“Eric,” I continued, ignoring the open-mouthed stares of the two men at the table. “When was this hit announced?”
He blinked a few times before he responded. “Uh, yesterday. No! The day before.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said decisively, turning to Enzo. “That explains a whole lot about the events of the past twenty-four hours, don’t you agree?”
His frown turned into a full-fledged scowl. “You think the van was an actual attempt on your life?”
“I do.”
“Fuck.”
“What van?” Eric jumped in. “What does that mean?”
