Lady and the Champ (41 page)

“You’re going to listen to him?” Sal protests. “He works for Angelino. How can you trust a goddamn word out of his mouth?”

“This discussion is over,” Leo says firmly. “The vote is finished, and you lost. I suggest you figure out how to deal with that before our new boss decides to deal with it for you. In the meantime, this meeting is dismissed. Nick, I need to talk to you for a few minutes to get you up to speed, but the rest of you can go on your way. We’ll be contacting you with further instructions shortly.”

So that’s it, then. I’m the new boss whether Sal likes it or not. Everything I’ve done over the past few weeks has led to this. I get up from my chair, straightening my jacket, and head to Leo’s end of the table. I’ve got a good bit of catching up to do if I’m going to be filling Spada’s shoes for the foreseeable future. I hear Sal sputtering, but I don’t even dignify him with a glance. He’s not worth it.

T
he morning after my wedding
, I wake up alone. So much for a romantic start to married life.

I vaguely remember Nick saying something to me early in the morning, though, before I drifted back off to sleep. Maybe he didn’t just abandon me.

Moving through my morning routine, I’m pleased to discover I’m not nearly as nauseated this morning. I head downstairs, thinking I’ll actually try to grab a decent breakfast for a change.

There’s a note on the table from Nick. I read it—he had to go in to an emergency family meeting. Vaguely I wonder what that means but decide it’s probably not something I need to worry about.

Once I’ve had breakfast and gotten dressed, though, I’ve found other things to worry about. I haven’t been to the bakery in ages, what with everything that’s been going on. I should probably check on things, see if there’s been progress as far as determining if the building’s still safe. If it is, and if I continue to feel better, I can start looking at opening for business again.

I leave Nick a note in return, in case he comes back before I do. Then I grab the keys to my favorite of Nick’s cars and head downtown. Correction—my husband’s cars.
My husband
. It sounds nice.

The nice feeling doesn’t last very long. I can tell something’s wrong as soon as I catch sight of the bakery. The windows are boarded up. My heart leaps into my throat, fluttering there so fast I’m afraid I’ll choke on it. I pull into a parking spot on the street and go to take a closer look. There’s a FOR SALE sign in a corner of the front window and a lockbox on the door.

What the fuck? My hands shake as I fumble my keys out of my purse. I can’t get the key to the front door to fit into the lock. At first I think it’s just because I’m freaking out, but that’s not it at all. It just plain doesn’t fit. Somebody’s changed the locks.

With tears burning at the backs of my eyes, I rattle the doorknob fruitlessly and then try to look inside through a crack between the boards on the windows. I can’t see anything; it’s too dark inside. Maybe I can crack the combination on the lockbox.

Not much chance of that, though. I finally give up, mostly because my eyes are too blurry and I’m too panicky to think clearly. I’m starting to feel nauseated again, too. I should just go home, tell Nick, and let him deal with it.

“It’s a nice change to the decor, don’t you think?”

I spin at the sound of Sal’s voice behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand. My heart’s in my throat, choking me.

“Well, it’s my property, after all.”

“What do you mean, your property?”

He looks insufferably smug, but at the same time there’s a sharp light in his eyes. Anger. Hatred, even. Directed at me. My panic changes to pure fear.

“I’m not stupid, Sarah. Do you think I didn’t know you and that piece of shit husband of yours were going to try to pull everything out from under me? This place hasn’t been under your name for weeks.”

“What?”

“I had my lawyer draw up papers putting the property in my name.”

“How the hell could you do that without my signature?” I can’t believe what’s happening—it’s like my brain isn’t working, like I can’t get it to sort through the puzzle pieces to make any sense out of them.

He laughs, shaking his head. “You think that kind of trivial bullshit ever slows me down? If you do, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Of course. There’s nothing he can’t manage by putting enough bills into the right person’s hands. I can’t help it; the tears overflow and I can’t hold back the sobs that lurch into my throat.

Everything’s gone. Everything I put my life into. Everything I sacrificed to Sal. Everything I willingly gave to Nick. Nick promised he’d protect the bakery, but Sal made sure he couldn’t even do that.

Sal’s slow, smug grin makes me swallow my tears as quickly as I can. I can’t let my guard down around him; he’ll take advantage of it in any way he can, and that could be dangerous. Deadly, even.

“You want to keep that bakery, don’t you?” His voice is low and cold.

“Of course I do.”

“I can give it back to you.” He takes a step closer. It’s all I can do to keep from retreating a step in response, but I won’t let him have the pleasure of seeing me cowed.

“For what price?” Because of course there’s a price, and knowing Sal, it’s a steep one.

“All you have to do is come back to me.” He takes another step closer. I can’t let him get too near me or I won’t be able to get away from him. I try not to let him know I’m scoping out an escape route.

“I can’t do that. I’m married now.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. Take that fucking ring off like you took my ring off. Throw it in the dirt. Then find a doctor to get that asshole’s brat out of you. Come back home. Say you’re sorry. Forget Nick Angelino even exists. Do that, and I’ll give you your business back. Let you do whatever you want with it. New equipment, new employees, what have you. Say no—the bakery’s gone. So what do you say? Is it a deal?”

I’m just staring at him. I barely heard anything past “get that asshole’s brat out of you.” The heat at the backs of my eyes is from fury now. “Who the fucking hell do you think you are?”

His fists clench, and he takes another step toward me, his body taut now. “I
think
I’m the man who loaned you the money for the goddamned bakery in the first place. I
think
I’m the man who was going to marry you before you ran off with Angelino like the fucking slut you are.”

Before I can think about it, I haul back and slap him as hard as I can. “You fucking piece of shit. This is
my baby
. You have no say. None. And there’s no way in
hell
I’m having an abortion because you say so.”

He’s furious, and I suddenly realize the danger I’m in. My hand has left a bright-red mark on his face.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarls. “I’ll kill you for that.”

I know it’s not an idle threat. Quickly I sidestep him and head for my car. I hear him yell after me again, but by the time I get inside the car, several passersby have taken note of what’s going on, and Sal’s getting just enough attention that I know he won’t do anything.

Not right now, anyway. I have no doubt he’ll be more than happy to follow through on his threats later.

Blinking back tears of fear, rage, and sorrow, I start the car and hightail it away as fast as I can.

* * *

N
ick’s
in the living room when I get back, focused on his laptop. As hard as I tried to compose myself on the drive back, I must still be a mess, because he comes to his feet the second he sees me.

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” He closes the distance to me and puts his arms around me.

The touch breaks the dam I built around my emotions, and I fall apart, weeping all over him.

“Shhh, shhh,” he says, patting my back. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I try to tell him, but I can’t make words through the sobs and hiccups. He finally steers me over to the couch and sits me down, sits next to me, and holds me for a few minutes while I cry it out.

When I’ve finally got a little control, I manage to choke out a vague description of what happened. I feel Nick’s body tensing against me.

“He said… He said he was going to kill me,” I finally finish.

“Well,” says Nick, and his voice is as frightening as anything I’ve ever heard. “I’d like to see him try after I’m through with him.”

I draw back. “Nick. Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

He strokes my hair, his body relaxing just enough to be gentle with me. “No. He’s not. But you are. And if I don’t do something about this, he’ll keep coming after you.”

“Nick…” I can’t finish the question. I don’t know if I want to know the answer anyway.

“It’s okay, Sarah. This is just business. And Sal De Luca’s a dead man. Count on it.”

I
don’t think
I’ve ever been so furious in my life. That Sal would dare to threaten Sarah to her face, especially after I was officially voted in as boss… The audacity of the man. The sheer insanity. He’s overstepped, and I know the rest of the organization won’t stand for it.

I make several phone calls, arranging a meeting for the next morning. Maybe Spada never had the balls to stomp out the bonfires in the organization, but I do. I’m going to take care of this once and for all, before Sal tears the organization apart. More importantly, before he comes after Sarah again.

The thought of him hurting Sarah—of anybody hurting Sarah—sends me into a place like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s primal, and so full of rage I’m not sure I can control it. It’s more than protecting my own. It’s more than asserting my power in my new position. It’s like it’s coming out of the deepest, most primitive parts of my brain, taking over everything in me that’s even remotely civilized. I don’t just want to stop Sal. I want to destroy him. Tear him into tiny, bloody pieces with my bare hands.

Still, in the midst of it, I’m able to hold Sarah, comfort her when the tears come back at night when we’re settling in for bed. As her tears dampen my chest, I swear silently to myself that I’ll make sure I never have to see her cry like this again.

* * *

I
meet
my team at Milo’s in the morning and give them explicit instructions—find Sal, find his team. Make a plan for an ambush. I want Sal dead before the end of the day.

There’s an exchange of glances. Chris says, “Boss…are you sure? If Spada comes back and—”

“When Spada comes back—
if
Spada comes back—having De Luca gone will be the best thing we could have done while he was gone. He’s a cancer in this organization, and Spada won’t do shit to get rid of him.”

One of the other guys starts to protest, too, but I cut him off. “Who’s the boss now?”

“You are, sir.”

“That’s right. Now go do what I told you.”

My men are dispersing when my phone rings. “Angelino,” I answer.

“They set bail for Spada.” It’s Leo. “You need to go bail him out.”

“How much?”

Leo names the sum, and I give a low whistle. The feds aren’t fucking around. We can get the money, though. All it’ll take is a few pulled strings. “All right. Tell me what I need to do.”

* * *

I
meet up with Leo
, and we get the bail money. The whole process is a pain in the ass, but that’s not unexpected. Leo comes with me to the police station—he’s my right-hand man now, I realize, and will be until Spada reclaims his place—and we head inside.

While we’re waiting, I wonder what will happen when Spada’s out on bail. Is he going to take over again or leave me in charge while all the legalities fall out? I’m not sure how I feel about either option. I’d just as soon have a little more time to adjust before I completely take over, but, on the other hand, if he goes ahead and returns to business as usual, I’m going to lose face, and that could affect my ability to reinstate myself as the heir apparent.

I still haven’t decided on a course of action—or even if I should do anything at all—when Spada emerges, ready for us to escort him home. He shakes hands with me and with Leo but offers only greetings, no additional information or comment. Of course, a police station is no place to discuss family business. So there’s nothing to do but get him home and then see what happens.

Once we get out onto the steps, though, he starts talking, though he keeps his voice fairly low.

“I hear you won the vote. Congratulations.”

I give a curt nod. “Not that my reign has lasted very long, now that you’re back among us.” I offer a smile to let him know I don’t hold any ill will toward him. From plenty of other guys in the organization, that could have been taken as a threat.

He returns my smile with a wry one of his own. “We need to talk about that. I think there’s going to be trouble with De Luca.”

“There’s already trouble with De Luca. He was not well pleased with the vote.”

“It’s not just that. He’s been…unstable for a while now. Very problematic. Even well before you—”

I hear the sharp noise, but for a split second I don’t connect it with the fact that Spada’s stopped talking. I open my mouth and start to ask him for more details about De Luca, but suddenly he staggers against me.

I grab at him. He’s a big man, and he puts me off my balance. Then I register that the noise I heard was gunfire. Mostly because I hear it again. This time bits of concrete spray as the bullet strikes the stairs next to us.

“Shit! Shit! Leo!”

Leo’s already moving, catching Spada on the other side. Neither of us can quite hold him—he’s dead weight, and I’m afraid that’s completely literal, because he’s not giving us any help at all. I have an awkward hold on him, and so does Leo, but Spada slips away from both of us, falling face first down the rest of the stairs. All I can do is watch as his head bounces off the concrete, leaving dark-red stains behind. Not that it matters. The bullet killed him long before the concrete crushed his skull.

He lands finally in a clump of dark suit and blood at the foot of the steps, on the sidewalk. Leo and I are both just staring, unable to process what just happened. Leo moves first, running down the rest of the steps to kneel next to Spada’s body. He shoves his fingers under the blood-splattered collar. I follow him down, a little slower. Passersby have started to gather, staring, while others just book it past the scene as fast as they can. A couple have their phones out, and I’m sure the cops are on the way.

Leo looks up at me as I join him on the sidewalk. His face is stricken, more with shock than anything else. “He’s dead.”

“Shit.” I just stand there. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Leo’s fist clenches, his other hand holding Spada by the shoulder almost gently. “It was fucking De Luca. I know it was.”

Of course it was. Spada’s last few words hit home—De Luca’s unstable. Which was Spada’s nice way of saying Sal’s losing his motherfucking mind. Or has lost it already. I’m pretty sure the latter is more accurate.

“What do we do?” I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds. I wipe my hands on my jacket as if they’ve got blood on them. They don’t. I’m not sure how I missed the spray from the bullet; Leo’s got a spatter down the front of his shirt, across his tie.

“You go,” Leo says. “Get to Spada’s place and keep things locked down. I’ll deal with the cops.” He digs in a jacket pocket and comes out with a handful of keys. “Here. That’ll get you inside.”

I nod. “Do I need to call anyone? Let people know what happened?”

Leo shakes his head. “Let me do that. It’ll go down a little easier.”

“Okay.” I close my hand around the keys so tight, the teeth bite into my palm. “This wasn’t me,” I say, even though I know he understands that.

The look Leo gives me now is half pity, half resignation. “I know that. This isn’t the way you work. Why do you think you got voted in?”

No, it’s not the way I work. Or at least it never used to be. De Luca’s dragged me into some dark places over the last few weeks, places I’m not particularly proud of. But no—sniping the boss in cold blood, from a distance, is not my style. If it’d been me, I would have done it looking right into his eyes.

“Just go,” Leo says again. Then, quietly, as an afterthought, he adds, “boss.”

“Keep me posted,” I tell him, and he nods. I head for the car.

* * *

T
here are
a few cars outside the Spada mansion, a few people milling in the driveway, and I wonder if they’ve heard what happened or if they’re just waiting for Spada to come home. It appears to be the latter; a couple of Spada’s lieutenants meet me as I’m heading for the front door.

“Where’s Leo?” one of them asks. “Did the boss make bail?”

My mouth goes tight against my teeth. “Get inside. Get everybody else inside, too.”

The man doesn’t ask questions—he just does what I told him to. Good. That’s the way it should be. I get the house open and head for the conference room where we usually meet.

I barely have time to get my composure back before everybody I saw in the parking lot is heading into the conference room. It seems like the entire organization is there, but that’s just my nerves. It’s only about a dozen people, fifteen tops. Some are my guys; the rest are Spada’s inner circle. Thank God none of Sal’s men are here. Everyone looks disconcerted, confused. Maybe even a little scared.

“What’s going on?” This is Mitch, and he speaks a bit more sharply than I’d like. I’ll give him a break this time.

I lift a hand. “Everybody sit down and get quiet.”

They do so immediately, taking their places and falling silent in a matter of seconds. I take a deep breath. I’m finally starting to feel the adrenaline—delayed reaction from what happened on the police station steps. My hands are shaking. I clench my fists to make them stop.

“Spada’s dead.” No point beating around the bush. “Somebody shot him while Leo and I were escorting him out of the police station.”

I expect an outburst, people asking questions, demanding to know what happened. But no. Everyone’s dead silent, faces going pale, eyes wide.

“We didn’t see who it was, although I think we all know who’s most likely to have done something like this.” There are a few nods, and I see a couple of people lean over to the guy next to them and mouth, “De Luca.” Good. Everybody’s pretty much on the same page. Although what we’re going to do with Sal’s men, I don’t know. I really don’t want to have to eliminate all of them. If it comes to that, though…

“Right now, I’m acting boss, and that’ll stay the same until further notice. I’ve got Leo’s full endorsement.” At least I hope I do. He hasn’t done or said anything to make me think I don’t, though, and under the circumstances I need all the support I can muster. A glance across Spada’s inner circle—former inner circle—shows me several nods, nobody offering any hostile looks. Good. Hopefully I’ll be able to count on them. Because things aren’t likely to get any better any time soon. This is a huge blow to the organization, and it’s going to take some time and effort to ride it out.

“As far as—” I stop. Leo’s just opened the door. All heads turn to face him. He hasn’t changed clothes; Spada’s blood still decorates his shirt, his tie, and the underside of his chin. He looks wrecked.

“Paramedics declared him DOA,” he announces. “Angelino, you’ve got my full support.”

I nod. Good. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d come in and said he didn’t support me, especially after I said he did. I probably would have gone down in a hail of bullets.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “Now, we need everybody here. I don’t want anybody out of the loop. Everybody start making phone calls—it’ll be faster that way.”

There are nods around the table, and the whole group disperses, going to different corners of the room, some leaving the room altogether to find a quiet place to talk. I go to Spada’s office, Leo trailing me.

“You want me to call De Luca?” he asks.