“My friends would never tell.”
“Our enemies have ways of torturing the truth from hardened men who have been trained to keep secrets. If they get their hands on Esme or Penelope, they will sing like a canary.”
He references my besties with the confidence of someone used to extracting truths. If he can make the connection that easily, it doesn’t bode well for others who might come looking. “How would anyone even know to come here? Know anything about me?”
“Have you forgotten the men in that basement in Vegas?” he asks.
A shudder works its way through me. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing about that night,” I say, scowling when his lips curve into a salacious grin. “Are you saying Scarface Salerno is your enemy now?”
He shakes his head, propping his butt against the arm of my couch. “Vegas is an ally, but situations can change overnight. He knows who you are. No doubt he still has the recording from the bedroom.” Ben smirks. “He probably jacks off to it nightly.”
My face pulls into a grimace. “Not helpful, and can we stay focused.”
I’m getting hot thinking about the more pleasant aspects of that night, and I won’t let him distract me.
“The point is, your friends knowing is a risk. If you stay here, you put them at risk as well as yourself and Rowan.”
“We have lived here for five years, and nothing has happened,” I protest.
“That doesn’t mean it will last forever.” Exhaling heavily, he stands. “Look, it’s late. Let’s sleep on it and talk again tomorrow.”
I know he has no intention of letting it go. I see the determination glinting in his eyes. Yet, buying some time to think of options is better than the alternative right now. “Okay.” Briefly, I consider packing Rowan up and fleeing in the night, but I doubt I could find any place on the planet to hide where Ben wouldn’t find us. A life on the run, constantly looking over our shoulders, is not the kind of life I have in mind for my son.
He taps out a message on his cell phone. “Walk me to the door,” he demands, and I barely resist the urge to flip him off. He’s so damn bossy.
I startle when I open the front door, finding a tall guy about my age standing right there. “Fuck.” I slam a hand over my chest, sure my heart is going to short-circuit this time. There are only so many frights it can handle in one night.
The guy looks me up and down.
“Eyes on my face,” Ben snaps, and I jerk my head up.
“Sorry, boss.” The man sounds contrite, but you can’t tell from his face which is a master class in nothing. He obviously attended the same school as Ben—both have the art of emotionless expressions down pat.
“This is Alessandro,” Ben explains.
“Hi. I’m Sierra.” I don’t smile, but my tone is pleasant.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, offering me a slight smile. He’s good-looking with dark hair and warm brown eyes, and I’m betting he does well with the ladies. He has that whole moody, broody vibe working for him.
“Alessandro will guard you overnight,” Ben says. I open my mouth to protest, but he places his fingers to my lips, silencing me. “It’s not just that I don’t trust you to not make a run for it,” he says, and my cheeks flare up as I remember my thoughts from a couple of minutes ago. “It’s for protection.”
“It’s past midnight.” I poke my head out, looking left and right. “The neighborhood is dead. Everyone is asleep.”
“Arguing is pointless,” Ben says, stepping out of the house. He stands beside Alessandro. “Either Alessandro keeps watch out in his car or I guard you from inside. Your choice.”
“That won’t be necessary.” There is no way I want to explain his presence to Rowan. I face Alessandro. “Do you need to use the bathroom, or can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” With another small smile, he returns to the black SUV now parked directly outside my house.
“Don’t make plans for tomorrow,” Ben says as a sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the curb. “We have lots to discuss.”
“I don’t want you to meet him yet,” I say, steeling myself for another argument. “I will drop Rowan off at Serena’s in the morning, and he can play with Romeo until we are done.”
“You can’t keep him from me forever, Sierra. I have a right to know my own child, and he has a right to know I’m his father.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Aren’t you?”
“We can’t just spring this on him is all I’m saying.”
His shoulders stiffen. “We will talk more tomorrow.” He walks away but stops, turning back around. “He’s a great kid, Sierra. You’ve done a wonderful job with him.”
“It’s not me,” I rasp, barely able to talk over the lump clogging my sore throat. “It’s all Rowan. He makes it so easy to love him.”
“I wish I knew that firsthand,” he says as a new wave of anger skates over his face. “Good night,” he clips out, his jaw tensing as he walks off.
Leo gets out of the car, holding the door for Ben. His eyes are hostile as he stares at me while Ben climbs into the back. Having withstood enough hostility tonight, I slam the door shut and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a broom and dustpan. I walk on autopilot into the living room, cleaning up the mess and washing the wooden floor, only heading to bed when I’m sure every speck of glass is gone.
Sunlight is creeping through the blinds in my bedroom when I finally fall asleep hours later. But my dreams are troubled, and I toss and turn fitfully, hating that everything is about to change yet understanding I am powerless to stop it from happening.
20
BEN
At least hanging around Chicago for the weekend gives me the opportunity to meet with Gifoli to open proceedings. The news this morning from my father’s medical team isn’t good. He only has six months, max, left to live, and there is still much to do. We need to secure Florida’s and Chicago’s commitment to The Commission before Angelo Mazzone dies. It’s the only way to ensure we survive should the Russians use my father’s death as the catalyst to make their move. I’m hearing all kinds of rumors of planned attacks and attempts to forge alliances with other criminal entities, and they aren’t mobilizing without a goal in mind. While they don’t know about his condition, I am sure they are watching and waiting for the perfect moment to present itself for them to strike. It’s what I would do in their shoes.
Hence why I reached out to Alfredo Gifoli—the underboss in charge of The Outfit in Chicago—a couple of hours ago. One of the other New York bosses—Gino Accardi, my brother-in-law—is dealing with the stubborn don in charge of Florida.
I had Phillip send me a file on Gifoli this morning, and I was shocked and more than a little concerned to discover Serena Lawson is now Serena Gifoli. I dug a little deeper, discovering Saskia is married to Felix Barretta. Felix’s father Thomas is the consigliere to Giuseppe DeLuca, but as DeLuca rules his domain from his residence in Sicily, Barretta effectively reports to Gifoli. Felix stands to become consigliere when his father retires, as is tradition.