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The vehicle finally made the turn onto the street where The Grindhouse building was located. I could barely keep myself from getting out of the van because running toward the café would be faster than the crawl of vehicles. We were hitting Hell’s Kitchen at high noon and were running into the lunchtime crowd.

We were a block away when I spotted Nico. He wasn’t in a suit, but was in fatigue-colored cargo pants and a black tee. Standing beside him was Trevor, who was similarly attired. There was no question they were assessing building security. Their heads were huddled together and they were staring at the café, which I didn’t have a clear view of yet.

“I’ll drop you girls here and find parking,” Sloane said. “A van stopping right in front of the building isn’t a good idea right now.”

I dragged in a deep breath before I passed out.

“Ready?” I asked Divina.

I shoved open the door and the early October air filled my lungs with the freedom that had eluded me.

I jumped out of the van and resisted the urge to run. Divina was behind me, but at that moment, my focus zeroed in on the dearly familiar form of my brother.

“Deartháir.” Emotions clogged my throat, and the endearment came out as a ragged whisper. We were at the street corner and too far for them to hear me anyway.

Trevor saw me first. I could almost see his mouth form, “Holy fuck.”

Nico’s body whipped around, stiffening and alert like he was about to be ambushed, and then he was moving.

Toward me.

I ran.

Toward him.

I was bawling and mumblingsorryover and over again.

“Bianca.” His voice cracked hoarsely, just as I hit his body at full tilt.

His arms surrounded me. He lifted me and buried his face in my hair.

I was home.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Sandro

“Kaz Doku? He still has loyalists?” I asked.

The man in front of me was only known as the Toronto fixer. He was the go-between for the Albanian mob based in Toronto and the Rossi crime family.

“It didn’t come from us,” the fixer said. “But yes, your problems…the burning of the club and the attempt to put you on a collision course with the De Luccis is coming from the New York Albanians.”

“That’s why they didn’t want to take our coke?”

“Yes.”

“So why help us if we’re not gonna help you move product any longer?”

The man smiled. “You got Moretti to thank for that, but we’re thinking of switching into something more legit. So this goodwill…” He tipped his chin to Gian who was overseeing the transfer of coke from our truck to theirs. “Hopefully we can do business in the future.”

“Won’t your guys in Manhattan have a problem with that?”

“Let’s just say Toronto and New York haven’t been on the same page for a long time. We need new blood. Excise the Doku loyalists.” He shot me a smile that told me he wasn’t entirely on my side and I had something to prove. We didn’t shake hands, but exchanged chin lifts before he walked away.

With the fixer some distance away, Gian came to my side. “That was easy enough.”