Page 156 of Duty

Christ, yeah.

He wanted to give her it.

Andino just didn’t know if he could.

“You should head home, Haven,” he murmured. “I probably won’t get back to my restaurant tonight. Another day, okay?”

He didn’t even add in the apology.

She probably didn’t want it.

Wasn’t she sick and tired of useless apologies that never actually made a difference, or changed anything? God knew he was tired of giving them when he couldn’t put his remorse to good use, and change the outcome for them both.

“I figured,” she said softly. “I hope you find your cousin, and that he’s okay.”

“Me, too.”

After a quick goodbye that was laced with her sadness, and his regret, Andino hung up the phone. He slipped back into the car to find his uncle looking at him.

“Well?” Lucian demanded.

“John’s at Matteo Calabrese’s brownstone.”

His uncle blinked. “What?”

“That’s the info I have.”

“How—”

“Do you want to talk right now, or go get John?”

Lucian didn’t even reply. He simply pulled the car out of park, and hit the gas hard enough to make the tires squeal. They were a ways away from the brownstone where Siena’s father lived. Andino had never been to the place, but he knew where it was. Thankfully, the streets weren’t congested this late at night, and there wasn’t any cops hiding somewhere to pull them over. Although, Andino was sure his uncle blew at least four red lights, and there had to be a camera on one of them.

The car wasn’t even at a full stop in front of the brownstone belonging to Matteo before Andino got out of the car. The wheels were still moving, and he almost tripped over his own goddamn feet in his haste.

He didn’t care.

His mind was everywhere.

And nowhere.

John, John, John.

Had his cousin found death?

Had death found him?

Andino slipped inside the brownstone—the door wasn’t even closed—and already had his gun drawn. He racked the Glock back, and stormed the front hallway just as a loud bang echoed from somewhere up above his head.

Shit.

The mantra in his mind shouting his cousin’s name only became louder. Lucian was right on his heels even as Andino headed up the first flight of stairs. Neither of the two men spoke—there was nothing to say right now.

Their thoughts were bad enough.

What if …

What. If.