“Where is Evan? Did you extend the lunch invitation like I asked you to?” Sal inquires.
“Evan?” The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Not fear. But a feline ready to strike. Evan Zaccaro, my new stepbrother, the man I secretly love who just so happens to be on the other side of the law. How many times have I told myself that Evan is as different from Milo as light is to day? My dad was a crooked cop. Evan isn't.
Finally, I jump into action with, “He will not be in attendance, not now, not ever. Keep his name out of your mouth,” I say through gritted teeth, eyes locked onto my grandfathers.
“Your mother may not know, but Evan is a big part of your life now, Reese. The closer you get to him, the closer I get. You’re my granddaughter, I'm gonna make sure he steps up to the plate when the time comes.”
“Oh, I see you don't understand. Mention Evan again, I will slit your motherfucking throat.” My lips are so tensed that they shake. I'm trembling, my father infiltrated the Los Angeles Police Department. Milo worked his way up for the Family's sake. Evan is a detective with the LAPD. God, I shouldn't have glanced his way, stepbrother or not.
Instead of taking heed to the threat, Giovanni's fleshy face spreads somewhat. The folds of his cheeks widen as he genuinely smiles. “Reese, you, you,” he points a finger at me. “You're exactly what our family needs.”
“Fuck you and the Maf—” I stop abruptly, gander roaming around quickly. Wouldn't do to shout Mafia out loud.
“I did not mean the Family,” Gio says. He is still smiling brighter than the sun.
I meant our family. The Giuglianos. You will love them. They will love you. I don't have any fucking intentions of recruiting Evan. When Milo came out to the West Coast it was due to a disagreement between him and I,” Sal’s voice lowers, “When you’re ready, I’d love for you to come to Napoli and meet the rest of us. I understand that you’re on the straight and narrow, that's one of the reasons why I love and respect you.”
“Despite I'm only half-Napolitano?” I snarl, recalling all Milo’s trainings.
“You're blood. That's all that matters.” He tries to grab my hand from across the table. Then he holds out his palms in mock innocence because those hands orchestrated the death of many people, they've moved the puzzle pieces—lives— of judges, jurors, gambling operatives, political forces and the occasional drug dealer. “I love you, Reese. Evan is the one. I want us all to get together.”
Legs beyond weak, I stand up. “Never gonna happen. Just leave me alone. Don't drive past Nook when you're in town. Don't even think of me.”
“A FEW YEARS AGO,” Giovanni slammed his hand down on the table, puffy cheeks flared, “I DID NOT KNOW OF YOU.”
The entire area is hushed. We stare at each other. Since I’m all out of words, my eyes tell him, I had no doubt Milo kept his secret family a secret but why should I give a shit?
His index finger taps the air; a gesture I have noticed he does every once in a while when angry. He says, “You need more time.”
And just like that, I realize Giovanni Giugliano is in my life no matter what. He's respected my wishes of not venturing to Flour Shoppe. I've lied to Evan, telling him that Giovanni hasn't threatened me since the one time he’d come by and found out that sweet old Sal had helped me tweak my cannoli recipe to the perfection of his dearly departed mother.
Truth is, Gio hasn't threatened me, but it hurts me to lie to Evan. Our first encounter included keeping me safe, now I will do my duty and ensure that he is safe. Safe from my grandfather...
34
Evan
SID doesn’t find much else in the laboratory or the large storage area. I head to the control room, where Tyrone is seated with three of our team members viewing videos. There’s a nine-panel system each with various focal points from the lab, storage, to the lobby and parking lot.
“Edgar Marion, he is so clumsy,” the manager is saying as I enter. “Of course we had him bandaged up.”
I watch the video smack dab in the center of the panel. It’s from yesterday, at the sixteenth hour, employee Edgar’s ankle is scratched against the end of the storage aisle while he was moving boxes for loading. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Something tells me the proud token Jeff just toted out of here has the DNA of one dumbass, Edgar Marion.
“It’s gonna be a long night,” I sigh, taking a seat next to my partner.
Chinese was on the menu since there’d be no venturing home for dinner, without some sort of lead. I had called Reese to let her know not to expect me anytime soon.
I dig into my orange chicken, while Ty, the tech Casey and I watched hours upon hours of surveillance. Casey’s head kept bobbing backwards, and Tyrone blocked his nostril airway with the side of his cell phone. They guy would pop into an erect position, only to fall back asleep seconds later.
My head tilts to the side while watching a Latino, approximately three-hundred-fifty pounds plus or minus fifteen in a blue jump suit with, LC tatted on his neck. He’s somewhere between twenty-five to thirty-five years old. The manager doesn’t have employee information on maintenance, and said she’d get back to me as soon as she could. I had just started dinner when the guy first stepped out of the office for a smoke.
“Casey, wake the fuck up,” I shout.
The redhead jumps up from his seat so hard, that the leather chair rolls back and his ass hits the ground. Tyrone laughs. I hold out a hand, through his glasses,
