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25
EMMY
So far, so good. Vito was in cardiac arrest, Dasha was trying to crack his ribs under the guise of CPR, and his minions were running around Tribeca in search of an AED. The nearest one was in a hot-yoga studio five blocks away—we’d already checked.
Ryder was babysitting Nico at the airport, and he reported that our client was behaving himself. The smaller of Blackwood’s two jets was fuelled and ready to go. Hallie and Collier were outside Belgravia Place, watching for any unwelcome developments, while Slater and Gage tailed Cesare on motorcycles. Ana was following in an SUV she’d “borrowed” from a jackass who’d cut up two other drivers and then stolen a parking spot from a lady who’d been waiting politely.
Now Kaylin had to play her part, and she was the weakest link.
I put a hand on her back and half guided, half pushed her through the sliding door into the lobby at Belgravia Place. Serge looked up, a sneer fixed in place, and his double take was understandable. He’d probably never seen Kaylin without a meathead escort before.
“Ma’am?” His question asked nothing and everything.
“There…there’s been a family emergency. Cesare’s father collapsed, and…and…”
For once, her nerves actually helped. She came across as overwrought due to Vito’s condition rather than shitting herself because she was about to flee the state. I helped her out.
“Vito’s real sick, and Cesare wants all the family together. Benny’s gonna drive Maria and Matty to the hospital.”
“Nobody told me about this.”
“Why would they? You’re, like, the doorman.”
Serge bristled, as I’d suspected he would. He really did have an overinflated sense of self-importance.
“I’m responsible for the security of the building, and that includes monitoring the residents’ movements.”
“Yeah, well, we just told you what’s happening.” I increased the pressure on Kaylin’s back, moving her toward the elevator.
“I should call Mr. Cavallaro.”
“Do whatever you feel you have to do, but I doubt he’ll be happy if you interrupt his father’s last rites.”
The elevator doors opened painfully slowly, and I kept my head down so the camera in the corner didn’t get a good look at my face. We could have cut the feed, but if Serge’s screens went blank, he’d have been even more suspicious than he was already.
“Hey, you can’t go upstairs. You haven’t signed the visitor log.”
“I live here,” Kaylin shot back. “And which part of ‘family emergency’ didn’t you understand?”
Then the doors were closing, and I smiled to myself. So, Kaylin did have a backbone; it had just been crushed under the weight of Cesare’s spite for years.
“Do you know the elevator code, or do I need to bypass it?”
“Yes, I know it.”
“In and out,” I told her once the elevator had begun its ascent. “There won’t be time to grab clothes, jewellery, or anything like that.”
“What about documents? Matteo’s birth certificate? My passport?”
Bringing those things would reinforce the idea that she’d run alone, but we didn’t have time to waste looking for them.
“Where are they?”
“In Cesare’s safe. He thinks I don’t know where the key is, but he has a fake wine bottle in?—”
“Forget it. You’ll get new ones.”
“I don’t have any money.”
