Page 32

32

Andre

“I ’m getting so fucking sick of funerals,” Stella grumbles when we reach the Queens cemetery in the SUV.

“Cemeteries are so damn creepy,” Cami remarks from the backseat, which is why we didn’t take the sports car.

“You didn’t have to come,” Stella turns and reminds her. “Saint wasn’t wrong to refuse to bring you along with him.”

“Screw him. I know I didn’t have to come,” she replies. “But the girl, Amara, she was…she was always nice to me the times we met. And I feel guilty her and her mother died, even if it was our brother’s fault…”

“Don’t say that shit,” I snap at her more harshly than necessary. “Keep those thoughts in your head because you never know who is listening. Bugs are small enough you can’t see them.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” She opens the car door and climbs out.

I wait for Stella to chew me out for barking at her sister. Instead, she reaches over and gives my arm a squeeze through my black suit. “We should all be more careful what we say.”

I know Cami doesn’t deserve my anger. It’s just…I can’t believe one decision from months ago is still causing turmoil and costing innocent women their lives.

And I’m referring to Izaiah and Bowen’s stupid-ass decision to come after Creed, kill Carmine, and set off a bloody war that feels like it will never end.

At least one of those assholes is dead. The other will be as soon as things settle down again. Creed is still figuring out who will take over the Bronx for the Bertellis, since Bowen was Weston’s only son.

When Stella shoulders her little black purse, I get out and go around to open the car door for her.

We all head in the direction of the gathered group of mourners, braving the winter chill and winds. Cami is right; with the clouds darkening the sky, ominously hiding the sunlight at mid-day, this resting place for the dead feels even creepier than normal.

“Saint looks…awful,” Stella remarks.

With a heavy sigh, Cami says, “I’m going to go stand with him and remind him he doesn’t get to control where I go.”

I’m angry Stella’s twin was so damn foolish, but I’m hurting for him, for her and her family, at the same time.

I offer my wife my hand, and she takes it, letting me lead her to where Creed, Tristan, and Lorenzo are gathered with more of our people.

Zara’s the only one who tries to smile when we approach, but it’s weak. “It’s just so much more awful when they’re young, isn’t it?” she asks quietly. I’m not sure what it is about cemeteries, but everyone always feels the need to whisper. Or maybe it’s the polite thing to do around the grieving family.

Since nobody wants to think about the girl and her mother being buried side by side, I decide to change the subject. “How are you feeling, Zara?”

“I’m good. Great.” She rests her palms on her lower belly. “Now that the morning sickness is over, we should all have dinner together one night, like a double date. Or a girl’s night while the guys play poker…”

Turning to Stella to gauge her reaction, I expect my wife to adamantly refuse. Instead, she says, “Sounds fun. Just let us know when would be a good time.”

When the service begins, I pull Stella in front of me and wrap my arms around her to block the wind, helping her stay warm. Whispering in her ear, I ask, “Did you really mean that? About dinner?”

She cranes her neck to look at me. “Yes. Why? Should I have refused.”

“No. I’m glad you agreed. I think you and Zara could become friends.”

With a nod, she turns back to the minister.

* * *

The graveside service is short, even though it was for two people. Most likely because of the weather. Any minute now, it’s either going to snow or we’re going to get drenched by rain.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask Stella after we offer condolences to Aiden Sanna.

“Yes, please. I’d love to watch it snow, but I’m freezing.”

I nod and glance around the crowd, searching for Cami. “Where’s your sister?”

“Not sure.” Her gaze searches the group of people as well, double the amount who attended Weston’s funeral or Emilio’s, despite the weather. “I don’t see her. She’s probably waiting at the car. Or maybe she’s riding back with Saint.”

We start toward the line of vehicles, but I don’t see Cami waiting next to the SUV. Stella retrieves her phone from her purse to check it.

“Well, shit,” she huffs. “Let me call her.”

“Do it in the car while it gets warm.” I pull her by her hand and open the passenger door for her to slip inside.

Going around, I get in and turn up the heat as soon as it cranks.

“Saint just replied,” Stella reports. “He said he’s getting into his car, and Cami’s not with him either.”

“She must have still been talking to someone, and we overlooked her,” I respond. “Stay here. I’ll go find her.”

I’m back out in the cold, trudging through the grieving people while looking for the raven-haired woman. Since almost everyone is wearing black, her hair color doesn’t exactly help.

The crowd thins, then clears out as the funeral home or cemetery crew move toward the caskets to start lowering them. Aiden Sanna is the only one who stays to watch. He catches my eye but quickly looks away.

“Sorry to rush you, sir, but the rain is coming in, might be some snow or ice too,” I hear one of the guys say to Sanna. Then, “Hey, who is Saint?”

I find the man in overalls grasping a white envelope. “What did you say?” I ask him as Aiden bows his head and turns to leave.

“That’s the name written on here.” He holds up the envelope that flaps in the wind, showing me the hand-written letters.

“I’ll take it,” I tell him, going around so he can hand it to me. The guy stares at me. “I’m Saint’s brother-in-law.”

“Could be money in here.”

“Yes, because leaving an envelope of money in a graveyard where it could easily blow away makes so much sense.”

The guy shrugs. “It’s already open.” He stuffs his dirt-stained fingers in and pulls out a sheet of paper, then looks in the envelope. “Nope, no money.”

“Hand it over,” I snap, jerking the paper out of his hands because I’m getting impatient, and nauseous, wondering what the note says.

And it’s worse than I ever could’ve dreamed.

The words are straight out of a nightmare.

You’ll never see your sister again unless you confess.