Page 98 of Ruthless Consequences

Messina called me out. Then he told me to stay put. He walked out, eaten up by the sun, until the house fell into complete darkness again. One of the guys who’d been standing against the wall came back in and got me after another drove Messina away.

“Down there,” the guy said, nodding with his chin toward a car that was parked down the street.

I walked to it and knocked on the window. Nose hit the unlock and let me in. I slid into the back seat. Gallo looked at me from the mirror.

“Drive,” Nose said, nodding toward the road.

“Where to?”

Nose rattled off the street name. “The old man wants to have a chat there. With some people.”

“The Russians?”

“Dunno.” Nose shrugged.

Gallo put the car in drive and pulled off. He was chatty, going on and on about how The Head was to blame. He’d done it all.

“The bakery,” I said. “Pull down the street from it. I want to check on some things before we get there.”

Tigran had already cleaned up the bodies, but Michele said he wanted to clean up the rest.

Gallo looked me in the eye again before he pulled over. He went to put his hand on the door, about to run, but I was too fast. I put the gun behind his ear and pulled the trigger.

I was out.

THIRTY

LUCILA

PRESENT DAY

I was waitingby the ER entrance ever since I watched my husband leave. Tigran’s two guards watched me, their eyes playing ping-pong with my back-and-forth body. My head felt light, and I needed something to eat, but I couldn’t stop moving, and a solid mass of nerves blocked my throat.

I turned around for a second, taking a deep breath. How would I even know…? I turned around again, and the doors automatically opened as a bright rush of sunlight hit me in the eyes. I blinked a couple of times, trying to get the searing imprints to clear.

When they somewhat did, I blinked again. Blinked some more.

He grinned at me, holding out his hand. “Come on, baby. You’re coming with me.”

He was even more gorgeous than the day I’d met him. Even more charming. All the blood rushed to my feet.

“Where are we going?” I barely got out.

“To Michele’s for a dinner fit for a king and his queen. And then wherever we fucking want to. The world is our own Coney Island.”

He caught me before I fell into his arms, and then he carried me out, both of us swallowed by the light.

EPILOGUE

LUCILA

FIVE YEARS LATER

The linearound Valentino’s wrapped around the block. It was St. Joseph’s Day. Workers were steadily handing out traditional boxes as each person came up to claim them. I loved the feeling in the air. It brought the community together to celebrate a tradition that had deep roots. The branches of that tree spanned around the block. All of these people were keeping it alive.

I inhaled, closing my eyes, and rocked from side to side, letting the sun flow over my face while the scent of fresh bread and sweets meandered through the air. Music played. Laughter floated. Kids ran around after one another. Mini Italian flags strung up outside the bakery flapped in the wind. Come nightfall, the green, white, and red bulb lights would glow, becoming a beacon in the night leading people to a place built on blood, sweat, and tears. A place that truly represented the American dream.

“Give me my granddaughter,” Michele said, reaching out his arms for our youngest, Carine.

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