Page 125 of Made in Love and Blood

Staten Island, New York

Salvatore, Gallo Estate

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The drum of his fingers against the desk did little to distract Salvatore’s racing thoughts. He couldn’t drag his stare away from the clock on the wall across the room.

The second hand taunted him, the minute hand continually reminded him, but the hour hand sealed the deal. It had already moved five digits since he first entered the study and began taking phone call after phone call until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Other than the people whose calls he couldn’t ignore, he pretended that the buzz in his pocket didn’t exist until it stopped altogether, likely because of the time. He silenced the phone on the desk, as well, although it continued lighting up every so often. Less, now. He would only pick that phone up if one of the estate numbers called, as it meant Larkin had something on Frankie and Nico.

Salvatore continued drumming his fingers as he massaged his temple with his other hand, willing the tension headache to lessen. That shit started right about the time when Nico landed his first punch against Marco and had yet to let up.

He didn’t hear the person come to stand in the study door until she cleared her throat.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Carina leaned against the doorframe. “Any news?”

“No.”

“I figured. So, they checked everywhere?”

“That they can. Nothing at the penthouse. Nothing in Vauxhall.”

Carina surveyed her nails before asking, “Bank accounts, cards?”

“Nothing new on Frankie’s. It took Larkin a bit for Nico’s. Turns out he, uh, drained it a month or more ago. I don’t even know where he’s stashed the cash or if he did something with it.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Not yet.”

“Sal...”

He checked the clock again. “It’s not three yet.”

“Didn’t you kill the curfew?”

He had, yes. And yet, he waited.

“I just think...”

Carina sighed, and shifted from one foot to another, hugging her silk robe tighter. “You think what?”

“That three will be my sign.”

“That they’re not coming back, you mean,” she said.

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair and finally letting the beat of his fingers against the wood come to a stop.

“You’d think the car being found at the airport would have been your first clue that they wouldn’t be back tonight,” his wife said, only sounding a little judgmental.

“You know, one of those is your children, too, my love.”

She smiled in that way of hers; it meant he’d just stepped in a huge pile of shit without even realizing it.

“Both of them are my children, if you think about it. But let’s not, so it doesn’t get weird.”