CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE AMBUSH
We combed the first two floors, scanning the dance floors and slipping between booths and drapes. We tried not to knock against glasses of Moët champagne as we shimmied between tables full of models and socialites and men in glossy suits. We downed a couple of vodka and sodas for courage before making our way up one last flight of stairs.
The third floor was smaller than the others. It was furnished entirely in dark wood and thick bamboo furniture, with gold flames casting streaks along the walls. A line of trees in floor-sunken pots climbed towards the ceiling, their spindly branches stretching overhead in waxed leaf canopies. It was like walking into a glamorous safari, only we were the animals.
Towards the far end of the room there was a small stage where a girl with cropped black hair and eye-assaulting sequinned shorts was crooning into a microphone. It was hard not to stare. She was such a train wreck, flopping across the stage and clutching the microphone like it was her life raft. The third floor was a lot quieter than the other two, probably owing to her.
Just behind the unhinged performer was a secluded seating area. It had been cut off from us by drapes and there was a burly bouncer standing in front of the entrance, scanning the small crowd. In the whole club this was definitely the hardest place to get to, and that’s how I knew Jack would be in there.
We crossed the empty dance floor and were halted by the bouncer. ‘Private area, ladies.’
I peered around him. There, surrounded by a bunch of people drinking and chatting animatedly with one another, sat Uncle Jack. My eyes were immediately drawn to Eric Cain beside him, easily discernible by his flaming-red hair. He was the one who had shot Luca. There were lines of white powder spread across the table and he was leaning forward, a rolled-up bill in his hand as he snorted it greedily, his crimson hair flopping in front of him. He snapped his head up and twitched his nose like a rabbit.
Jack threw his head backwards, his eyes tearing with amusement. The last time I saw my uncle he was bleeding out on a murky floor, and now here he was with a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I pointed him out to the bouncer. ‘That’s my uncle. I’m here to see him.’
As if remembering some instruction, he stepped aside and ushered us through. Sara was the first to notice me. She was standing apart from most of the group, hovering, an uneasiness permeating her made-up features. She looked exactly how I felt. There was a tall reed of a man shadowing her. He was much older, with salt-and-pepper hair that curled tightly to his head. He had cat’s eyes that tilted upwards at the corner and flashed amber in the dim lighting. His razor-sharp grin was overly curved and entirely mirthless. He was watching me. I looked away. Focus. Sara sidled over and placed a gentle hand on my uncle’s shoulder. He pulled his gaze from his huddle and saw my eyes boring into him.
Jack got to his feet, and before I could stop him he was crushing me into his chest. His drink sloshed against my shoulder and his cigar flickered perilously close to my hair. ‘I’m so glad you came, Sophie. I’ve been so worried about you.’ I pushed him away. Jack gestured to another couch nearby and sat down again. He stubbed out his cigar, patting the space beside him in invitation. ‘Please sit. There’s so much to talk about.’
Understatement.
He looked better than I’d expected, considering the last time I saw him he was basically dying. He was slimline and well dressed in a dark-grey suit. His grey-brown hair had been cut short and he had shaved, making his face appear younger. He was paler than usual, his cheeks absent of their rosy flush, but his eyes were bright.
The woman on Jack’s couch was poised along the edge, her bony fingers laced together on her lap. She was bird-like, with big black eyes rimmed in purple eyeshadow. Donata Marino. Donata Marino was staring at me.
I edged over to the seat. Millie stayed by the entrance, unsure where to put herself. I’ll find you soon, I mouthed at her. I knew she would have wanted to stay, out of solidarity, but I had to talk to Jack without her. He would be reluctant to share his plans in her company and I intended to get all the answers I could.
Millie slipped behind the bouncer and into the paradisiacal surroundings behind us, while I lowered myself on to the couch, keeping closer to Jack than to Donata, who was perched on my left, the stronger of two evils. I felt the coldness of her stare on the side of my cheek.
Jack put his arm around me, encasing me in a cocktail of alcohol and sweat. ‘Thank you for coming.’ He was so sincere, so serious … so like himself, the kind uncle I remembered from my childhood. And yet when I looked at his surroundings, everything blurred again. The two sides of him did not add up, and the version that had walked into that warehouse was the one I had come here to confront.
‘I almost didn’t,’ I said, ducking out of his grasp. ‘And this isn’t meant to be some happy reunion.’
Jack had the audacity to laugh. ‘Aren’t you at least glad I’m alive?’
‘I never wanted you to die. I don’t think like that.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Otherwise you would have blown my cover in the warehouse. But you led that Falcone prick away from me and I owe you my life for that. You’re loyal, Sophie, and I’m sorry about the danger I put you in. If I’d have known what would happen I would have sent you somewhere safe. Trust me, I won’t be making that mistake ever again.’
I pressed my lips together, waiting.
‘We have a lot to talk about,’ he continued. ‘I hope once you understand my position, you won’t hate me.’
He made it sound so simple, like the lives of scores of people weren’t balancing on pinheads around us. Like he wasn’t being sheltered by one of the most ruthless families in Chicago. I didn’t even know what to ask first. There was so much to say, and yet now that I was here, sitting beside him, staring at him, I felt tongue-tied. ‘Jack,’ I said, expelling a pent-up sigh. ‘How did it come to this?’
I looked at him imploringly, like a child asking if Santa Claus was real but not really wanting to hear the truth.
‘I wanted a better life.’ His answer was deceptively simple, and not at all what I was expecting. ‘I wanted to rise above my station.’
‘This, Jack,’ I said, endeavouring to be more specific since his answer was so painfully vague. It shouldn’t be this simple – the things he’d done, the drug trafficking, the killing. ‘How did you come to be here?’
‘I’m safe here, Sophie—’
‘Do you know this will probably start a war? Is that what you want to happen?’
Jack hesitated, and for the first time he seemed unsure. But I got the sense it wasn’t because of my question, but because of my knowledge of the truce, which I had betrayed by asking it. I hadn’t been thinking of hiding anything from him; I was too hell-bent on getting him to stop hiding stuff from me.
He glanced sidelong at Donata. Something passed between them, a flicker of amusement, a quiet understanding. Her smile was spidery. ‘Your niece knows more than I expected.’
I scrunched my hands in my lap as my cheeks flushed with heat. ‘Isn’t it common knowledge?’
Donata was still looking at Jack. She nodded, just once, her eyes slitting as she said, ‘Fidelitate Coniuncti.’
‘Not yet,’ he said, looking around him now.
There was definitely something between them, and it dawned on me with quiet revulsion what it was. I got up, suddenly feeling hot and sticky.
Jack sprang to his feet. ‘Let me explain what happened, Soph.’
I turned on him, trying to ignore the icy wave of Donata’s attention. ‘How can you explain it?’ My sudden shrillness roused some of the others from their conversations. ‘You’re messing around with drugs and the Mafia, and you’re cosying up to her to save your own ass even though you know how dangerous it is, how many people could die if the truce is broken. What could you possibly say that would make any of this OK?’
Jack’s sigh deflated his chest and made him seem smaller. ‘It all comes down to money, Sophie. When I was a young man I had to ask myself, how can I use my talents to make sure I don’t end up on the bottom rung of society, trying to climb out of poverty my whole life? Your father and I never got the chance to make a go of our lives in the right way. All either of us ever had was our own smarts and the ambition to do—’
I bristled. ‘Do not involve my father in this. He has nothing to do with your depraved drug trade!’
Jack clenched a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. ‘Calm down. You’re making a scene.’
‘This whole thing is already a scene!’ I hissed, pointing openly at the cocaine two feet away from us, at Eric’s chomping jaw and guffawing laugh, at the girls pouring champagne on each other and shrieking in the corner. ‘You shouldn’t be here! You should be far away.’
Jack set his jaw. ‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘I insist that you leave me.’ I edged closer, cutting Donata out of the conversation, and dropped my voice. ‘And you should leave these people too, before it’s too late.’
Jack shook his head, his expression suddenly drained of joviality. ‘Sophie, we’re in this together.’
‘My family is not in this with you, Jack,’ I gritted out. ‘When are you going to get that through your head?’
‘Your father built his entire livelihood and his family on the money I gave him for that diner. Gracewell’s might be the culmination of Mickey’s life’s work, but it sits on my trade—’
‘No,’ I spat. ‘Stop!’ I was tired of being swayed this way and that by people with corrupt morals and pretty words. I was tired of hearing people out, of giving the benefit of the doubt only to have it thrown back in my face. This was not what I had come here for, to be leered at by Donata and her cronies, to be lied to by my uncle, to be terrified by the idea that I was tied to him, that someone like him was my anchor.
I turned from him, scanning the exit. Sara was looking at me. The man with the sharp grin was still hovering close by, watching her now. A shiver of unease shot up my spine. She dipped her head and smiled sympathetically. Did she have an overprotective uncle too? Had she been forced into this life the same way the Falcones were raised to be one thing and one thing only? Was she as ashamed of her family as I was? We were the same age, more or less. But she was here now, stuck, and I was determined not to be.
Jack stepped between us and brought his face close to mine. Our eyes – the same eyes – bored into one another. ‘Sophie, we’re family, you and I, and I want you by my side, where I know you’ll be safe. It’s where you belong.’
I blanched. ‘I have a mother,’ I snapped. ‘A mother you almost got killed, and believe me, I’m not about to forget it.’ Anger mounted, rushing and sizzling inside me. ‘I came here to hear you out, but it was a mistake. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m glad my father doesn’t have to grieve for his little brother in prison, but I don’t want anything to do with you. Not now, not ever. I’m saying goodbye. For good.’
I stepped back, but he stepped with me. His cheeks had flushed a rosy hue. ‘Sophie,’ he said, surprisingly gentle, yet intimidating. He was teetering on the edge of something, his eyes flicking from side to side, to Donata, to his cronies. ‘There is no way out now.’
I lifted my chin, steel staring into steel. ‘There is for me, Jack. You might have forged your allegiance,’ I gestured pointedly to Donata, then swirled my hand around, encompassing the club, its hedonism and all the wrongness, ‘but I stand with my mother, and only her.’
A veil of anger snapped Jack’s features back into place. ‘Only her?’ he asked, his eyes slitting. ‘And what about the Falcones?’ He spat the word.
There was an Italian curse from somewhere over his shoulder. Donata.
‘I have nothing to do with the Falcones,’ I insisted.
Jack arched an eyebrow. ‘I was in that warehouse, Sophie. You’re the key to their undoing; you’re the answer to my freedom. And with the Marinos, we’ll be able to do it.’ His voice climbed in pitch and his eyes were manic, darting. ‘We’ll finally be able to rid Chicago of this festering wound of self-righteous fools. Mark them for every mark they put on you. We’ll hang Valentino in his chair. We’ll drown Felice in his own honey. We’ll take Luca Falcone’s head from his body.’
My stomach seized up and I clasped my hand over my mouth. So he wanted the war. He was orchestrating it.
I swirled around, scanning the numbers – the sheer amount of Marino family milling around us. They mightn’t have been ready before, when the truce had come down, but they were ready now. Were the missing Marino twins here, too? Baying for revenge, all of them united in hatred?
Donata was laughing – it was a high-pitched screech of pleasure. I hated her. I hated her. I hated her. And I felt sick, so sick I couldn’t stand another minute in their presence.
‘I’m leaving.’ I turned. ‘This was a mistake.’
I pushed by the bouncer and marched on to the main floor. But I was stopped again, this time by Sara. I almost crashed into her. She raised her hands. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Please.’
‘I thought he cared about me, but he doesn’t. I’m just a pawn.’ I stifled the urge to cry, swallowing hard against the rising lump in my throat. ‘I want to go home, Sara.’
‘I know,’ she said, tugging me to the side so all those hovering behind us couldn’t overhear our conversation. Even Razor Grin was out of earshot, and he wasn’t happy about it. ‘But this isn’t the way to make it happen. She won’t let you leave if she thinks you won’t even contemplate helping her.’
I glanced over my shoulder. Donata was poised on the edge of her dance floor, watching us. ‘What would you have me do, then?’
Sara’s sigh hung in the air. ‘Just agree to whatever she wants.’
‘Are you crazy?’
She edged closer so even her fuchsia lips couldn’t be read when she spoke. ‘I’m not telling you to tell the truth, just say you’ll think about it or whatever. My mother doesn’t like the word “no”. You’re not going to walk out of here smiling if you don’t at least pretend to give her the respect she thinks she deserves.’
‘Why are you helping me?’
She dropped her gaze and when she spoke again she was just a little girl in a thrumming, glitzy club where she didn’t belong. And it hit me so clearly in that moment that I felt an intrusive and weird urge to hug her. ‘Because I was you, Sophie,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘I wanted to study music, to see the world, to hang out with my friends, to do good things and be a good person. I still am you in a lot of ways, so I get it. There’s this blood in us – people who think they can speak for us.’ She started tearing her fingernails along her arms like she could scratch it all out of her if she tried hard enough. I grabbed her hands and pushed them away from her arms, to make her stop. They fell limp at her sides. ‘You’re lucky. There’s another life for you. You’ve just got to be smart enough to hold on to it, to get back to it. And that means maybe you need to play the game—’
I was wrenched away from the girl with the kind heart and the big dreams. Five spindly fingers clasped around my wrist, long red nails digging into my skin like talons. I was twirled around until Donata’s face was inches from my own and Sara’s was lost somewhere in the crowd behind me. Donata’s lips had twitched into what I supposed was her attempt at a smile. ‘You and I aren’t done.’
Her heavy-lidded gaze was steady on mine and I felt suffocated by it. Despite Sara’s gentle presence, the friendly way she spoke, her unassuming nature, this was the real Marino family and I couldn’t pretend to like them.
Jack was hovering behind Donata. His face had twisted and for the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. Still, he let her hold me like that, digging her nails into my skin until I felt her draw blood.
Donata threw her head back. ‘Antony,’ she called, bird-like in pitch. ‘Antony, it’s time!’ I watched the faces behind her, their eyes snapping to the back of her head, but whoever Antony was – her son? A would-be torturer à la Calvino Falcone? – he was either too scared to answer her call, or maybe he wasn’t there at all. ‘Marco! Libero!’ she called, but still, no one came to her aid. The music was too loud.
I kept my voice steady. ‘I can’t do anything for you right now. I have a pounding headache and I need to go home. Let me come back another day,’ I added, taking Sara’s advice.
Behind us, the singer was crying her way through a nineties pop song.
Donata Marino rounded on me. ‘You can go when you’ve agreed to help us,’ she snapped.
Jack stepped closer to me, around the side of her, keeping his distance, like she was radioactive. ‘Donata,’ he warned. ‘You’re scaring her.’
She rolled her eyes, but he had managed to shut her up. He softened his voice, peppering it with gentle force as if to make up for Donata’s aggression. ‘There’s something of mine in the diner, Soph, but the Falcones are watching the place night and day. It’s too dangerous for us to go in. But not for you. You can help secure it. You can sneak in unharmed, and bring it to us.’
‘Get it yourself.’ The words were out of my mouth before the meaning of what he had said dropped into my stomach.
‘There’s a safe,’ Jack cut in. ‘And we—’
‘No,’ I hissed. ‘No way.’
I really could have laughed right then. How insane did they think I was? They were both staring at me, waiting for me to change my answer. My head was so heavy. Suddenly it felt like the whole club had tripled in capacity. The dance floor behind me was filling up. People were starting to jostle against my back. The singer was screaming her next verse.
I could make out Millie through the crowds, fighting towards me. ‘We should go,’ she shouted, pushing her way closer. ‘Something’s going on.’
Jack was there in a flash, blocking my immediate exit. ‘Sophie, I know it’s not an ideal situation but there’s a lot of money at stake. If we could just sit down and talk about all of this … Your dad would want me to help you. He would want me to keep you safe.’
‘You’re the one putting me in danger.’ I stumbled backwards, into the crowds. They were closing in, stifling me.
Something struck me in the back and I crashed nose first into my uncle’s chest. Razor Grin and Eric Cain were at his sides, shouting, pulling him away from me. But Jack was fighting them. He was shouting too, his face turning crimson with fresh rage. ‘How could you betray me? How could you do this to us?’ It took me an extra second to realize it was me he was yelling at. But I hadn’t done anything. I faltered backwards, away from his huddle, sinking into a scrap of shoving bodies.
I could hear Millie screaming, but there were other people shouting too – male voices. Voices I recognized. I was pulled backwards. Bodies pressed against me. I fell against someone, thumping the back of my head. A shoe clipped my ankle and I lost my footing, my heels giving way beneath me.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. I landed with a thump that knocked the wind out of my lungs, and then Nic appeared, circling above me. He lunged at Eric Cain, who was a flash of darting red hair and pale skin. Nic grabbed him by the throat and yanked him downwards, cracking his knee straight into his face. I could almost hear Eric’s nose smash into pieces as he crumpled to the ground. Nic hurled his foot into his back, the force of the kick bending his body like an S. He slammed into him again and Eric’s slim frame contorted and writhed out of view. He pulled his knife out. Vaguely stunned and winded, I thought, I am about to witness Nic murdering someone.
Jack sprang up, and Nic’s attention snapped in two. He arced to the left and disappeared into a sea of faceless people, chasing my uncle. Felice Falcone’s voice rang in my ears. He was somewhere close by, yelling instructions, calm against the storm. I scrabbled on the floor, my heels sliding as I tried to get up. Someone was brandishing a gun above me and I dipped backwards, cowering on the ground.
The crowds swelled until there was nothing but blackness overhead. I couldn’t see Millie any more, couldn’t find Nic or Jack. I was shouting but no one could hear me; no one was listening. I slid backwards, trying to get to my feet again, but someone knocked me to the ground. There was a rasping voice. Calvino Falcone, with his shiny bald head glinting underneath the lights. He charged over me, nicking my ankle with his shoe. I crawled in his direction, trying to free myself from the sea of limbs that were keeping me down, but he stopped abruptly and stumbled backwards.
I slammed my body to the right and he fell to his knees beside me. I reached out to use his shoulder as an anchor but he was too quick. He sprang up clumsily and threw himself at something. I was shoved backwards again. The blackness overhead enveloped me. Gino darted by, his gun pointed at someone I couldn’t see. Then there was a shape – wide and tall, and careening backwards. Calvino fell on top of me and I was crushed against the floor. I lay winded, trapped and star-fished beneath his limbs.
Someone was screaming my name. I couldn’t see properly. There was red everywhere. It covered the floor. My hands were coated in it. It was dripping around my ears. It stuck between my fingers and matted my hair in clumps. My shoes kept sliding on that thick, warm liquid, my eyes blurring with the sheer volume of it. I was gasping for air but everything smelt strange, like rust and salt, and my mouth tasted like metal. I was gagging as I tried to struggle free from Calvino’s hugeness. Why hadn’t he stood up yet?
And then it hit me. He was dead.