Page 108 of Shades of Grey & Gold

He coughs and I shake my head, keeping pressure on the entry wound while pulling my phone from my pocket. I hold it tightly and press Nico’s contact.

He answers, but I talk over him. “Lock the grid. Plates, cameras, alleys, my location.” My voice is calm enough to elicit nothing but silence from Nico. I look at Gio. “This isn’t your fault,” I tell Gio.

“What isn’t whose fault? What are you talking about? You fucking sound like Dad.” Nico’s voice rings through the phone, now on speaker sitting beside Gio’s body as I use both hands to try to stave off the bleeding.

He sounds hurried, like he’s already running and I can hear him barking orders around the phone, around his stupid joke that I ignore.

“They took Max. They shot up the café on 5th and took Max. They hit Gio. I need a car pulled around and the doc and—”

“Where the fuck is Rudi?”

“He’s off—I let him have a day off—God damn it, Nico, stop asking questions and just do what I’m telling you to do for once in your fucking life,” I lose my cool and I know I do, but I can’t rein it in. “Get me a car, get me the doc, get me a couple guys out here to help the café clean up. I want to see everyone as soon as Gio is with the doc.”

“See everyone… like…”

“Nico, God damn it.”

“Mick is two blocks away; he’s already on the way. I’m in the car; I’ll be there in five. We’ll find her, Cal.” His voice is calm but anger bleeds from it, just like the red seeping through my fingers. “We’ll find her. Who took her?”

Gio’s breathing is shallow, but his eyes are open and he’s tracking my words.

“The Russians.”

My eyes travel back to the shoes in the street, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

I should have never brought her here.

I should never have gone to Ellison to begin with.

I shouldn’t have gone to that bar in Abbott.

I shouldn’t have put her on that jet, shouldn’t have told her anything.

I should have walked away like I did years ago and let her live her life.

I should have let her be safe.

Fuck.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cal

Thehouseiswrongbefore I even open the door.

I can feel it from the driveway.

The lights are too bright, the quiet too thick, the quality of stillness that only exists when a house full of people is holding its breath.

I’ve felt it before. The night my father called from his deathbed.

The night Nico called to tell me the rivals had made a move on our northern territory.

Nights when everything changes and the air knows itbefore you do.

I push through the front door.

My mother is in the corner by the fireplace, sitting on the floor with Maggie on one side and Sophia on the other, both of them pressed against her like they can hold each other together through sheer proximity. The fireplace is lit and the three of them are framed by it, illuminated orange and gold.