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I turned toward our truck and started walking. “All done?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

“Tommy did all the negotiating.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t complain when it wasn’t Tommy they were meeting.”

No one from my side knew Luca was involved. That was why the fixer and I had a chat out of earshot of the other men.

“What can I say, Gian? You just have to trust me.” I walked to my SUV and nodded to Arnie. He was the one driving the commercial truck back to Manhattan.

I addressed another Rossi soldier who called out my name. “What is it?”

I was only half listening to the soldier as my past came roaring back. Kaz Doku was the Butcher of Toronto and had been an archenemy of the Rossis. Both Carmelo and Raffa held him responsible for the death of their brother in the same car bombing that blinded Raffa. He was my first kill. The job no one thought I could pull off. Carmelo thought he was sending me to my death. Outside of Raffa, Carmelo, and Frankie, no one knew for sure if the Turk was the one who assassinated Kaz Doku. The Rossis systematically got rid of Doku supporters and a new leadership emerged. So why was this happening now?

The words of the soldier finally registered in my head.

Bianca. Escaped.

“What do you mean Bianca escaped?” I snarled.

“Sticks was trying to call you but you weren’t answering.”

“You know our phones are off. Why is yours on?”

“The Albanians left and?—”

Never mind. I slid out my phone and powered it up.

Gian and Arnie gathered around me.

The second Sticks answered the phone, I clipped, “What happened?”

“Sloane helped Bianca escape.”

“Sloane?”

“Yes. Bianca had some bullshit excuse about a coffee stain on the Persian rug.”

“The one in the living room.”

“Uh, yes.”

I closed my eyes. Dammit, Bianca. “Then? You left them alone?”

“What was I supposed to do, boss? It’s Sloane. But I caught them sneaking into the van and that bitch Sloane fried me with a stun gun.”

I knew that girl was a maverick. “Do you know where they are now?”

“Divina’s phone is back online. You’re not going to like it.”

“They’re at The Grindhouse.”

“Yep.”

“Gather everyone and head to Manhattan. I’m still at Binghamton, so it’s going to take me three hours to get there.”

Three fucking hours I didn’t really have. God fucking dammit, Bianca.