Chewing with his mouth full, he waved over one of his men from the bar. “Take her home, and no stops along the way.” He pointed to Eris. “Get something to eat and go to bed, and when I get home, we’ll discuss your behavior.” He dropped his fork and squeezed her arm until she whimpered. “Get out of my sight.”
“I see that Gino needs some lessons in manners when it comes to treating his wife with respect. I wonder if she stayed off that shit long enough so baby Gino won’t have any lasting problems.” Cain made the observation as she fed Emma a bite of her appetizer.
“I might be hooked on drugs myself if I had to live with that animal,” Emma answered. “I held that little baby not that long ago, during that infamous kidnapping episode that started this whole mess, and he seemed responsive. Maybe she had a shred of maternal instinct left when she found out she was pregnant.”
“Maybe,” Cain said, distracted. She shifted her attention from the two buffoons to the three sitting at the other end of the room.
“Anything?” Anthony asked into the mike in his sleeve as he lifted his glass of ginger ale.
“Are you sure you gave us the right table?” Claire responded. “Because all we’re getting is a big jumble of background noise.”
“Middle table, the one we marked as number four when we came in and canvassed earlier. You should be getting something.”
Shelby sounded impatient. “One of these days you’re going to figure out all these people we chase aren’t complete idiots. They’re keeping their voices low enough so they become part of the background, even with the most sophisticated equipment. We’re concentrating on Bracato and son since they’ve been nice enough to speak clearly.”
“Keep trying Casey and the woman with her,” Anthony said. “I just know she’s up to something.”
“Is there ever a clever way to hide that you’re talking to your wrist?” Emma asked, as she leaned in and kissed Cain’s ear again.
Before she said anything, Cain took hold of Emma’s hand and kissed her on the wrist while looking at the three men. “Unless you do it like this, there isn’t really a way.”
No one but Cain noticed a deliveryman walk in carrying a box and his clipboard. After a brief conversation with the hostess, he was directed toward Bracato’s table.
“Mr. Giovanni Bracato?”
“What do you want?”
“Delivery for you, sir. If you’d just sign here.” The deliveryman handed over the box.
“What the fuck is that?” Gino asked.
“How in the hell should I know? I’m eating dinner, for God’s sake. Who has something delivered to someone in a restaurant?” He ripped the tape off the top, noticing that the label didn’t have a return address.
When he removed the top, most of the people sitting close to them put their napkins up to their faces. From the stench, Giovanni had to guess the fish resting on the bottom was more than a few days old. He shoved it at the first waiter who appeared, but made sure to pick up the enclosed note.
It was short, but conveyed the point quite admirably, and he flipped the card over and over in his fingers before looking at his son. “Who’s Blue?”
“The manager of Cain’s club, Emerald’s. He’s working for Stephano now since the tragedy that put him out of a job.” He laughed at his own joke, oblivious to Giovanni’s rage. “He’s given us quite the insight into Casey’s business.”
“Shut up before we end up in jail.”
“What was in the box, Papa?”
Giovanni leaned over and whispered in his son’s ear. “A message for you and your idiot brother. Blue, or whatever his name was, is fish food. For a fucking Irish Mick, Cain’s up on Italian customs. Make sure you find your brother tonight and tell him someone sold him out.”
A wave of panic swept over Giovanni so fast, he was afraid his dinner was going to reappear. Before the waiter could get back to the kitchen with the box, a man at the back table stopped him and peeked inside it. Giovanni kicked himself for being so busy trying to burn a hole in Cain’s head with nasty looks that he’d failed to see the more-than-obvious feds.
“Man, that smells like a dead fish,” Joe said, holding his nose.
“Good detective skills, Simmons,” Anthony said sarcastically. “It’s a message from someone to Giovanni. Someone he knows and more than likely worked for him is dead.”
“Who do you think sent it?” Lionel asked.
“I’m sure it was the Girl Scout feeding tiramisu to the blonde as we speak. Tonight was nothing but them showing who has the bigger dick.” Anthony angrily handed the box back to the restaurant worker.
From the van Shelby laughed and shook her head. “If Tony’s comparing Cain to Bracato, my money’s still on her.”
“You sound like you really admire her,” Claire said.
“It’s more like a healthy respect for her as an opponent. Most of the agents who’ve tried to nail her in the past have tried to categorize her, but that doesn’t work because Cain’s hard to define. She believes every problem has a solution, then proves that it does.”
Claire removed her glasses and chewed on an earpiece. “Like I said, it sounds as if you find that admirable.”
“Let me put it this way. Some people study cobras and may even think they’re beautiful or admirable because they can survive. But I doubt they ever forget they’re deadly snakes. That’s how I feel about Cain Casey.”
“That she’s a deadly snake.”
