I want so bad to burst into that room and shout That’s not true!
I don’t.
Tino asks, “Has he tried to run?”
Another pause. “You know about the overdose incident. I believe now that it was an accident. He hasn’t tried to run from me. In fact…”
There’s another long pause, and for a moment, I think Luca is going to skate over Maggie, the phone, Pops’ phone call. But then he gives it up; tells Tino all about it.
There’s silence after Luca has finished telling tales on me. “I had hoped he would be useful to us…” Tino sighs.
“He knows nothing about his father’s business,” Luca says regretfully. “Beyond his father’s direction for him to kill me. But his father has kept him out of the family business. I’m not sure why.” I wonder if Luca is about to segue into asking what I want him to, about the hit on Mom, but then Tino replies.
“His father has his reasons. As I have mine for the things I do. You keep him happy, Luciano. Do you hear me? I don’t want him running off, going back to Boston. He is too important to me…to our Family.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.”
Tino made an explosive noise. “Fah! Your best? Have you told him you love him?”
“Certainly not,” Luca says, sounding as cold as I’ve ever heard him.
“And why are you holding back? Let him know he is loved, and let him love you—because he does, yes, Luciano, he does. It’s clear in his face every time he looks at you.”
This time when Luca speaks, it’s stilted, almost angry. “I can assure you, Don Morelli, he doesn’t love me. Nor I him. And—and I never will. I’m not a man who loves. It’s an emotion I decided to put aside at a very young age.”
Tino makes a wheezing, gasping noise, which I realize after a minute is him laughing. “Alright, Luciano. You might fool yourself, but you cannot fool me.”
I’m glad Tino finds it funny. I don’t. And I don’t bother to hang around any longer to hear Luca’s response.
I’m so fucking tired of his bullshit.
Maybe I should just get the hell out of here and take care of myself for a while, like I’ve been doing for years.
Chapter Thirty-Five
LUCA
Someone is shaking me.
“Bro! Bro!”
I’m swimming through syrup, and I can’t break the surface.
“Georgie!”
With a snarl, I lash out, and force my eyes open.
“Fuckin’ finally,” Frank chokes. He grabs my wrist to pull my hand off his throat. He’s leaning over me. Where am I? “What the fuck is going on, Georgie? Marco called me soon as he arrived this morning. Guards out the front like sleeping beauties, you snoring away in here like you ain’t got a care in the world—and where the hell is Finch? You two have a fight or something? He make you sleep on the couch?”
I sit up at once, grabbing at the sofa arm to steady myself as my stomach lurches. My mouth tastes bitter and cottony, my head is stuffy. Bright sunlight is streaming through the curtains.
“Where’s Finch?” I rasp.
“Marco’s looking around for him…”
I’m trying to remember what happened last night. Dinner. Cigars. Tino and Connie left late. After that, things are murky.
I try to stand, but my legs won’t cooperate. “Where. Is. Finch?” I ask again.
Frank helps me up. “Marco and I didn’t wanna go up and bust into your bedroom or anything. But maybe he’s in there?”
I take a deep breath, willing my body to respond, and I start towards the foyer. Frank has to help me up the stairs, and for once I let him, because I need to get there fast.
Upstairs, the house is silent. I feel the beginnings of something in my stomach, building up. It’s not an emotion I’m used to: terror. With Frank by my side I make for the bedroom, although I know there’s no one in there—no one living, anyway. I can’t feel the presence of a human being on the other side of the door.
My heart is beating faster and faster. I call Finch’s name outside the bedroom, my voice hoarse. There’s no response. As I open the door I don’t know what would be worse—to find Finch in there, or not. Because if he is in there, he might have…
But Finch is not in there. The bed is still made from the day before—or today—I can’t tell.
“What time is it?” I demand.
“It’s six-thirty,” Frank tells me. “Seriously, bro, what’s going on?”
“If I fucking knew I’d tell you!” I shout, my voice breaking. I’m overcome with a coughing fit, and Frank takes a step back, blinking at me.
“I’ll text Celia,” he mutters. “She might have heard from him.”
While Frank contacts his wife, I stumble around from room to room upstairs, checking each room as methodically as I can in my sluggish state. There’s no sign of him anywhere, but his toiletries are still there, along with the burner phone his father gave him, which should tell me something if only I could get my brain to figure it out. I slap the heel of my hand at my forehead, trying to wake myself up, and then drench my head under the cold tap.
God. It’s freezing, but it helps.
I think things through again. Finch’s belongings are still here, so either he’s leaving everything behind him, or he’s coming back. Or something else might have happened. Someone might have…
I need to find my phone. Where the hell is it?
I half-stumble back downstairs, the night before coming back to me now in fits and starts, and my heart squeezes tighter and tighter as I remember.
Tino and I were in the study. I could have sworn I heard footsteps outside in the hallway, but when I went to check, no one was there. I’d hoped I was wrong about it. I
