“We’ve got trouble,” I said as Gian entered the kitchen and leaned up against the counter.
“What happened?” he asked, crossing his arms.
I gave him the quick version: that note, the ambush, the two guys. “They say they’re with the Healy family and nothing else.”
“Motherfuckers,” Gian whispered, staring down at his hands. “I swear, it wasn’t me.”
I met his gaze and I saw the anger in his expression. The only people in the world that knew Mags and I were going to be at this location tonight were him and whoever he told in Roy’s crew. It was possible that Gian could’ve ordered the hit from the Healys, but he had nothing to gain, and he’d been the biggest, most aggressive Capo on the front lines. He wanted a fight, not to splinter the Valentino family further.
The only person that could’ve done it was Roy, and that barely made any sense.
“I know it wasn’t you,” I said finally, then spread my hands. “She’s his fucking niece, for god’s sake.”
Gian sucked in a breath and glanced toward the kitchen door. Mags could probably hear everything we were saying. “I leaked to Big Bruno, and he’s high up in Roy’s crew,” Gian said. “But it could’ve been him.”
“Big Bruno’s too fucking stupid to have contacts in the Healy family,” I said, shaking my head, and started pacing again. “What I don’t get is, why this whole show? Why get me to marry Mags, then try to kill the both of us after it was all done with?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Gian said. “Roy was in a good position before he took your side. If he wanted the Don’s job, then he could’ve pushed for it.”
A creak on the floorboards. Mags stood in the kitchen doorway, chewing on her lip. “I think I know why,” she said.
I stopped pacing and faced her. She looked so small and frail, her face drained of color, big bags under her eyes like she was exhausted. I wanted to go to her and pull her against me but Gian watched with a hawkish expression and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable with him around.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“He didn’t think he’d win on a vote,” she said, glancing at Gian. “You have more support, right?”
I shook my head. “Probably, but it’s not definite.”
“He didn’t want to chance it then,” she said, nodding to herself like she was getting on a roll. “So he had to take you out. But he couldn’t do that, because it would be obvious, right? And your allies wouldn’t have let him get away with it.”
“Fucking right we wouldn’t have,” Gian snarled.
“That would’ve started a war,” I said, and it started to come together.
“He made it look like you were at peace,” she said, tugging at her hair nervously. “Then he went to the Healy family and cut a deal. Probably as soon as you were dead and he was in power, the war with the Healys would’ve been over.”
“Fuck,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. “I think you’re right.”
“That traitor piece of shit,” Gian said. “Let me go right now. I’ll end this right this second.”
I waved him off. “Can’t do that,” I said. “We don’t have proof yet, and even if we did, there’d still be a war about it. We need to be smart.”
Mags slumped against the wall and let out a soft groan. I ran to her and half knelt down, looking into her face.
Tears welled up in her eyes. They fell down her cheeks, fat and heavy.
“He’s my uncle,” she whispered.
“We don’t know he did it yet,” I said, and glanced at Gian, who only shook his head.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I’m going to talk to that Healy asshole in the basement,” I said. “And you’re going to wait here.”
She straightened up suddenly, and I stepped back as she shook her head, eyes sharp and angry. “No way,” she said. “Uncle Roy wants me dead too. I’m not getting left behind.”
Gian laughed sharply. “She’s got a point, Dean. She’s in this too.”
“I don’t want you to see what I’m going to do to that guy,” I said softly. “You already think I’m a monster.”
“Monsters kill their family,” she said. “You try to save them. There’s a difference.”
I held her gaze for another few seconds. She was right about that—no matter how bad I got, I didn’t kill my own. I wouldn’t hurt my flesh and blood, no matter how distantly related. Roy was a monster, truly a power-hungry animal, and he would do anything to get what he wanted.
That bastard. That sick bastard.
“Come on then,” I said and walked to the basement door. Gian followed with Mags bringing up the rear. I snapped on the light and the three of us descended down the rickety wooden stairs.
Philly basements were all alike. Damp, moldy, rat-infested. This one was waterproofed at some point, and everything was painted a slick gray. A water heater sat in one corner, and a single small window looked out to the street.
In the center of the space was a man. He was tied to a simple wooden chair taken from the table upstairs. A sock was shoved in his mouth and held in place with duct tape. He breathed big, ragged breaths through his nose, and he struggled as I walked toward him.
I ripped off the tape. He spit the sock out with a moan, then spit a few more times.
“Get him water,” I said to Gian, who disappeared back upstairs.
The Healy guy was young, twenties at most, with dark copper hair and a square jaw. His brown eyes squinted at me and I saw the fear there.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” the guy said.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Connor,” he said.
“All right, Connor.” I paced in front of him. “I don’t need to murder you. Frankly, I’d rather not. It’s a pain to get rid
