Page 63 of When She Loves
I glance at Nero. He’s good at getting an accurate read on people, so I have no reason to doubt his assessment, but if not Ferraro, then who?
“The Bratva might still be holding a grudge about us not allowing them to invest in the restaurant,” Nero says.
“That wouldn’t surprise me, but I doubt they’d risk bringing war to their doorstep over one deal.”
“Their power is growing. I heard they’ve managed to push their way into the racetracks in Jersey.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that. As long as they’re not pushing up against Garzolo’s territory, they can do as they please over there.”
Nero lands a few shots against the bag. “Speaking of, I paid him a visit yesterday.”
Garzolo is one of the obvious suspects, especially after our last interaction. “And?”
“He was at his house in the Hamptons with the wife. They had a party. Plenty of witnesses. None of them saw him take a single call. Everyone said he looked at ease.”
“We should keep a close eye on him. If this is his work, he’ll try again.” I tip my head in the direction of the ring. “Let’s spar.”
We climb under the ropes and get in position.
“How the fuck did they know Cleo and I would be there?”
Nero jabs at me, but I easily step out of the way. He’s bigger than me, but I’ve got speed as my advantage.
“It had to be someone at the restaurant or Andres,” he says. “They were the only ones who knew you’d cleared the place and that you’d be in the dining room practically alone. Whoever is behind this wouldn’t have risked attacking if it had been a full house.”
I bounce on my feet, looking for an opening. “I trust Andres.” The owner of Il Caminetto isn’t someone who’d ever go behind my back. He knows better than that. “He wouldn’t try anything like this. You talked to the staff already?”
“Yeah. They all seem good.”
“What about the band?” I throw a punch.
Nero ducks. “I haven’t talked to them yet, but that’s a good idea. As far as I know, they play there often. I’ll reach out.”
I hold his gaze as we circle each other. “Good. Keep me posted.”
His jaw flexes. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I should have more by now. I know this is important. We’ll find the bastard responsible for it, I promise you.”
I grunt in response and nearly clip him in the chin.
He jumps back. “How’s Cleo?”
“Recovering.” We’ve slept in the same bed ever since the attack, so I guess there’s at least one good thing that came out of it.
But I haven’t pushed it any further.Yet. As soon as she’s feeling better, I’m going to bring our little game to a quick close.
“She’s still getting headaches, so the doctor recommended another few days of bed rest.” This time, my punch lands against Nero’s kidney, and he sucks in a harsh breath. I give him a second to recover before I land two more punches against his ribs.
“Fuck, Rafe,” Nero grunts, backing away.
I lunge forward again, swinging my fist at Nero’s head. He ducks and pivots to land a hard punch against my ribs. I grunt but don’t falter, quickly recovering and landing a few more hits on Nero’s gut. We continue sparring until sweat’s pouring down my face and my muscles burn with exertion.
I’m supposed to drive up to Albany right after the sparring session, but when Nero and I finish, I get an inexplicable urge to see my wife.
I climb into my car and look out at the Hudson River. My head is way too fucking wrapped up in her.
It’s only gotten worse since the attack. When I saw Cleo bleeding on the ground, it felt as if someone had wrenched my ribcage open and pressed the cold, unyielding barrel of a gun right against my heart. She couldn’t die. The possibility of her being gone had rooted me to the spot, spreading fear through me. I can’t remember the last time anything affected me like that.
I roll my shoulders and turn on the car. This is ridiculous. I should just go to work. But at the light, despite my best intentions, I turn in the direction of the house.
