But they’re not just mobsters to me anymore. Not at all. They’re real people with lives and loves, and whether or not it’s against my will and better judgment, I care about them. Even Dom, sometimes, when I don’t want to whack him upside the head for treating Cannon like crap.
I’m not about to throw them to the Rossettis.
Not sure what I want to say, I tap my thumbs on either side of my phone screen and consider.
If Randi’s with the Rossettis, I can use her.
I feel a pang of guilt at the idea of manipulating her, but I don’t see that I have much of a choice. Those people shot automatic weapons at a crowd that also included innocents, and hit people who didn’t deserve their animosity. They also could have easily killed or injured bystanders.
If nothing else, GTR Rossetti and his father need to be taken off the streets. I don’t care that I learned the Cassos are partly good and don’t all need to go to prison. I don’t feel nearly so kindly about the Rossettis.
I hesitate a few more moments before forming the reply I tap onto the screen.
Me: I’m okay. How did you find out what happened?
Randi: There was a story on the news last night about a drive-by shooting in Little Italy. I went to the club to find you, but it was closed. That’s how I knew the Cassos had to be involved.
Hmm... yeah. I don’t buy it.
Me: I can’t really tell you anything. Just ... stay away from the club. Stay safe.
Randi: You’re scaring me, Drew. If you need help, I can get you some. I don’t know what you’re wrapped up with, but if you want out of this mess, I’m here.
What.The. Hell? She should talk.
Me:I’m fine. Thanks.
As soon asI reply to Randi, I can’t help but wonder what she thinks is going down, and my suspicions go wild after hours of reading mob stories. She could be working for the Rossettis and trying to draw me out so they can use me as bait.
I drop back into the chair where I’ve been parked all afternoon and think through it.I’m not jumping to conclusions because I’ve spent hours wrapped up in Benny’s words. I’m not. But something is definitely going on with Randi’s message.
I need to text Cannon, but I have no idea what he’s doing and I’m hesitant to interrupt him. Still, he needs to know about Randi. Plus, I desperately want an update about how things are going and if there’s anything he needs.
Deciding a text is the least intrusive way to get to him, I type out a message.
Me:I know you’re probably busy, but is there anything I can do to help? I’m here, and I can take on anything you need. Call me when you get a chance. I have something I want to run by you.
33
Cannon
Inever expected to be at my desk at the club with this man sitting across from me. A man who has never set foot inside here before, and likely will never get another invitation.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t take you in right now and keep you locked down for questioning for the next twenty-four hours.” Clinton Cole’s suspicious expression tells me he’s smarter than he lets on.
“Because you’ve got no grounds to hold me. I’m a witness to a crime who invited you here. You should be thanking me, not threatening to arrest me.”
“Then what the hell do you have to tell me? What the fuck happened?”
“You were there, Cole. You saw it all go down. You tell me what the fuck happened.” When I flip the question around, he glares at me.
“You really don’t fucking expect me to tell you anything, do you? Because that’s not how this shit works.”
“Did you find the car? The driver? Gunman? Anything?”
Cole shifts in his seat, and his stiff posture expresses his annoyance. “You think you’re a cop now? You’re barely on the right side of the law, Freeman. Why should I tell you shit?”
“Because you’re tired of blood being spilled on your watch. Despite being a hard-ass, you’re actually a decent cop. I want to end this, and I need your help.”