There’s just one thing I’ve been chewing over the entire time and haven’t been able to admit yet as they wrap things up. And I won’t say it in front of the two grumpy mobsters.
“Whoever did this thought to pull the surveillance first,” Creed Ferraro explains. “Which means, they had time to plan it out.”
“What he means is that they’re probably not going to give up,” Tristan tells me.
Which is exactly what I fear. “Did you tell them about your theory?” I ask Tristan.
“Oh, right. Kirsten mentioned that she’s been looking into Bertelli’s murder.”
“Fuck,” Creed groans as he scrubs a palm down his face, and Andre rubs his temple in thought.
“Bowen?” Andre guesses.
“Got to be,” Tristan says. “We’re going to have to take him out sooner than we planned…”
“Whoa, man! You can’t just blurt that shit out in front of her,” Andre huffs.
“Sure, I can. I’ve got enough blackmail on the DA that she would never consider throwing us back in jail. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
He winks at me, and I roll my eyes at him, then tell the men, “I don’t want to know any details, but I don’t want to die either.”
“We’ll take care of him,” Tristan assures me.
“It’s not as easy as just snapping your fingers,” Creed grumbles. “Bowen is a boss now. The best thing we can do is go to his sister and hope she gets rid of him. Keep that mess in the family rather than raise any problems with all the other families.”
“Serafina’s a trained assassin, right?” I ask as all three men turn to me in surprise. “She came to see me last week.”
“Oh, really?” Creed looks to Tristan and then Dre. “What did she say?”
“She was angry and wanted to know why nobody had been arrested yet for her father’s murder.”
“Her adopted father,” Creed amends.
“Right. She obviously loved him and thinks someone came after him in a planned attack.”
“How does she not see that it was her brother?” Andre asks. “I mean, who else would have benefited from the old man’s death?”
“We need to talk to her,” Creed says. “Bowen may have gone to the cops for the hit so it wouldn’t get back to Serafina.”
“I can talk to her,” I offer as the mob boss arches a single eyebrow at me that looks so similar to Tristan’s. He also looks at me like I’m the shit on the bottom of his shoe. “It’s the least I can do after tonight. And if I talk to her, maybe with Tristan there but without anyone seeing him show up, then we could explain to her our theory on her brother.”
“We need more than a theory,” Andre scoffs. “We need evidence.”
“Yes, well, a theory is where we can start. And if I’m the one setting up the meeting, then it keeps the heat off you all, avoiding any mobster wars or whatever, right?”
“It could work,” Tristan agrees quicker than his two cousins.
Creed shrugs. “Fine. But Bowen will probably find out about the meeting, putting you in danger.”
“I’m already in danger!” I remind him.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Tristan offers. “I was already following her for weeks anyway.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Creed huffs and points his index finger at me. “None of this better come back on us, or you’ll be the next one carried out of here like a pig in a blanket.”
Andre snorts with laughter, making us all stare at the sudden change in his mood. “What?” he asks. “Pig in a blanket? The guy was a cop, so like pig is slang for…it was funny. Fuck all of you.” He flips us his middle finger and then huffs, “Can we go home now?”
Tristan nods. “Thanks for the help. I owe you one, Dre.”
