Page 26 of The Woman on the Jury

But shit didn’t work out that way.

Because I hadn’t planned it out.

I hadn’t been careful enough.

“Shit,” Lorenzo said, shaking his head. “I can’t even be mad at you any more about it then,” he declared. “No matter how much I had to shovel out in attorney fees. You know Vega charged us four-hundred bucks for some kind of fucking spicy chips she had imported in weekly?” he asked, shaking his head.

“That… sounds like her,” I decided. And, come to think of it, I always saw a bag of chips peeking out of her bag, the top tucked and clipped with one of the claw clips she used for her hair.

“Still,” Lorenzo said, sighing.

I knew the answer then.

“We got a lot of eyes on us right now. Especially since the hung jury. There’s no way more of the Myers brothers turn up dead, and we don’t get blamed for it. You, in particular. It’s not something we can risk right now.”

I figured that was going to be what he said.

“What do you expect me to do then?” I asked. “Just walk away? Tell her she’s on her own?”

For reasons I didn’t understand, and didn’t exactly care to, there was a strange tension in my stomach at the idea of telling her I wasn’t going to help.

To that, Lorenzo sighed.

“No, we can’t exactly do that, either. Not with what we know these fucks are capable of. But we don’t exactly know if it really is them, either.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“I suggest you put a protection detail on her. You’ve got more than enough men under you. Take a few away from their usual shit, and stick them on babysitting her in shifts. That way, they can get intel to let you know if it even is these guys, and also allow her to live her life without worrying about suffering the same fate as that girl.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted.

But it had been what I expected.

Back in the day, before he was theCapo dei capi, Lorenzo wouldn’t have even stopped to think of the news and shit like that. Now? Now, he had the responsibility of the entire organization on his back.

He was trying to bring shit back to the Golden Days of the mafia. Back when men weren’t informing and turning on each other. When dons weren’t getting locked up. When the neighborhoods loved and respected us because we provided protection and gave back to our communities.

To be fair, he’d come a long way in the short amount of time since he’d taken over for his old man.

And the Family had been in fucking shambles when he’d come into power, so the change was even more impressive.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating at times, though. Even if a part of me had to understand that he had to run this as a business. Because that was what it was. And businesses had to care about public relations.

“Alright,” I said, nodding, then turning to leave.

“Hey,” Emilio called, making me turn back.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you push everyone away after the arrest?” he asked.

“Why’d you go all dark when your sister was taken by Primo?” I shot back.

To that, he nodded.

Because, sometimes, there was no good singular explanation. We made choices or we did shit for whatever reasons felt right at the time. Then we adjusted afterward in whatever way we needed to.

“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging.

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