Page 25 of Vincenzo (The DiMaggio Crime Family #3)

AMALIA

M y plan came together quickly on my ride back to the hotel.

I can’t stay in NYC any longer.

When Carlos confessed my uncle called a hit on me, the reality of my situation came crashing down hard—and fast—and now with Carlos dead, if I want a shot at saving my life, I have to outsmart my uncle.

As soon as I get back to the suite, I quickly pack all my stuff, ignoring Carlos’s things, and head straight to the airport to purchase the next available flight to Miami.

When I get to my gate, I sink into the seat and release the deep breath that’s been fighting to be let out.

Get it together, Amalia. Worse shit has happened to you. You are strong, and you will get through this.

My brain has been in overdrive ever since stepping foot inside Enzo’s club. My entire life has been turned upside down, and now that I know my uncle is desperate to get rid of me, there’s no one I can trust, except…

Taking out my phone, I send a text to the only person I know I can talk to right now.

Me: I’m about to board a flight back home. Please DO NOT tell anyone. Can we meet when I get in? I need your help.

A text comes through before I even have time to close out of the message thread.

Armando: Send me your flight details. I’m picking you up myself.

Releasing a long breath, I send Armando my flight information, then board the plane a few minutes later.

Once I get in my seat, I will my mind to shut off, knowing it’s going to be a long flight, but it doesn’t work. I spend the next few hours wide awake with endless possibilities running through my mind while I try to formulate my plan.

After picking up my bags from baggage claim, I make my way to the passenger pickup. “Hey, I’m outside,” I say into my phone.

“Pulling up now,” Armando says, and we both hang up.

A few minutes later, Armando pulls up in a souped-up orange McLaren, and I struggle to not roll my eyes at the attention the car is about to bring us.

Leaning down so I can peer through the open window on the passenger side, I say, “Why are you driving your brother’s monstrosity? At least yours isn’t this obnoxious color.”

My cousin chuckles and says, “Mine’s getting worked on. Now get in.”

“You knew I had bags. They’re not going to fit in that thing you call a trunk up there,” I say, nodding to the front of the vehicle.

“You just don’t know how to stuff her correctly, prima .” The doors swoop open, and he gets out of the car.

The smirk on Armando’s face grows as he rounds the front. He stops in front of me and holds his hand out for my luggage.

Scrunching my nose, I say, “Your dirty little innuendos are not cute, you know that, right?”

He grabs my bags from me with a deep chuckle. “Is that any way to speak to your favorite cousin who dropped everything—no questions asked—to come and get you this early in the morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but a small smile lifts at my lips because even though shit has hit the fan for me, it’s been way too long since I’ve talked to my cousin, and I’ve missed the hell out of him.

Armando chuckles. “Just get in. I’ll get your shit in the car.”

After loading my bags, he gets in the driver seat, puts the car in gear, and takes off.

Glancing over at him, I take in his white button-up and charcoal-gray dress pants.

“Were you working this early, or did you never stop working last night?” I ask with a quirk of my brow.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he says, “You know work never stops for me. Especially these days.”

“Especially these days?”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and says, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

I sulk back in the leather seat and let out a long sigh.

“That bad, huh?” he asks with a shake of his head. “What the hell did you get yourself into, Amalia?”

“ I didn’t get myself into anything,” I say defensively. “It’s your dad.”

That seems to pull a small response out of Armando, but I was expecting a bit more. There’s a small tic in his jaw as he grinds his teeth. “What the fuck happened?”

I narrow my gaze on him. “Why are you not surprised?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your response is telling, Armando. Don’t forget I’ve been trained just as well as you have, so I can read you like a damn book. You’re not surprised that I said your dad.”

“You and I both know how he can be.”

“Yes, but did you know he called a hit on me?”

The question spills from my mouth, but I know Armando didn’t have any idea. He would never betray me like this.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he growls out. “Of course I didn’t know that.” The defensive tone of his voice has my shoulders rounding forward in guilt for even suggesting it.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just a bit on edge ever since I found out about this less than twelve hours ago.”

“Start from the beginning,” he demands.

I fill Armando in on everything. From what Felipe said right before I killed him, to me questioning a couple of his men after, to being sent to NYC, and then to what Carlos said last night in Enzo’s office.

“So what’re you trying to say?” Armando asks, turning into the parking garage of my apartment building. “You think my dad?—”

“Yes,” I say, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. “I think he called the hit on me because he has something to do with my parents’ deaths and I was getting a little too close to discovering the truth.”

Armando lets out a sigh and shakes his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening when he comes to a stop in the garage. He puts the car in park and looks over at me. “If this is true, what the fuck are you doing back here? Miami is the last place you should be.”

“I can’t just be on the run for the rest of my life. I need to figure out the truth.”

“Yes, you figure out the truth, but that’s when you call me and have me help you. You coming back to the city is dangerous and fucking stupid. You should’ve stayed in New York.”

I turn to face him. “I’m not going to run from my problems. You know that’s not what we do.”

“Amalia—”

“No. Hiding is not the answer. I need to figure out if he’s the one responsible for my parents’ deaths.”

“This is a bad fucking idea,” Armando says, and his disapproving tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “I should turn this car around and bring your ass straight back to the airport.”

“But you’re not going to do that.” He stares at me quietly, so I continue.

“I need to outsmart him, and I can’t do that if I’m hiding in NYC.

Now that Carlos is dead, he’s going to demand answers, and he’s going to come after me.

I have to play this right, or I’ll end up in the ground like my parents. ”

Armando continues to stare at me as if he’s trying to figure out the plan I haven’t quite put together yet.

It’s dangerous to be back in Miami, but if I can play this off right, I can find out what Felipe meant that night and hopefully spare my life in the process.

I won’t spend the rest of my days on the run. That’s unrealistic.

After a few silent moments, Armando finally says, “I don’t like this.”

“I know you don’t, but I have to find out what Felipe meant that night, because if it’s what I think it is, then you know what that means.”

Armando lets out a long sigh and nods. “I know,” he mumbles. “I know.”

He drops his gaze, finally coming to terms with my decision and understanding what all of this means for him too.

Armando’s just looking out for me. It’s what he’s done ever since his dad took me in.

He’s a few years older than me and has always treated me like the little sister he never had.

But as much as he wants to look out for me, he’s also coming to terms with what needs to be done…

because finding out the truth is as necessary for him as it is for me.

“If your dad played a part in my parents’ deaths…”

“Then that means he played a part in my mom’s too,” Armando finishes, his jaw clenching. “I’m with you, Amalia. I need to know the truth about that night too, but if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need a solid fucking plan.”

“I know,” I say with a nod. “I’m going to go to your dad later today and let him know about Carlos before he starts asking questions.

I’m going to tell him exactly what happened; that Enzo killed him.

That the DiMaggios came after us when they found out about our plan to kidnap Luxtyn and Isabella.

They killed Carlos, but I was able to escape, hop on a flight, and get out of there before they were able to do the same to me. ”

“That’s not going to work,” he says, which causes my heart to drop. I know I need to come up with a better plan, but with the amount of time I’ve been given, I haven’t been able to think of anything else.

“You know him,” he says. “He won’t buy that you conveniently escaped.”

I give him a few short nods while thinking of a solution. “You’re right, but what if I tell him they let me escape?”

Armando lifts a brow at me. “ Let you escape?”

“What if I make it seem like they let me escape so I could come back here as a message to him on what will happen if we try to cross them again. I just need to buy us a little bit of time.”

“It could work, but I don’t know. It doesn’t seem… convincing enough. They just let you go?”

“Okay, so what if you hit me? Rough me up a bit. That would really make it seem like they were trying to send a message. Kill Carlos, send me back a little bruised … That would actually work perfectly.”

“What the… Absolutely fucking not, Amalia. What is wrong with you?” Armando admonishes me.

“It’s a perfect plan. You said it yourself. Me being sent back as a warning isn’t convincing enough, but if I come back a little scuffed up, that’ll seem a lot more convincing.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not going to fuck you up.”

“Just hit me a couple times, it’ll be fine. Come on, we’ve sparred plenty of times before. It’s not like you’ve never hit me.”

Armando looks over at me with his eyebrows raised to his hairline. “You have lost your damn mind, Amalia. I’m not laying a fucking finger on you.”

“Obviously not at full force, but?—”

“No!” Armando snaps out. “And don’t fucking bring it up again.”

I sulk back in my seat, knowing there’s no sense in arguing with him. “Fine. I was trying to think of a way to buy me a little more time to figure out what’s going on, but since you insist?—”

“Oh, I absolutely fucking insist. That was the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Okay, asshole , I get it. I was just thinking your dad is going to find out that Carlos is no longer alive soon, which means he’s going to start questioning where I am. I don’t need a ton of time, but I need enough time to go to Felipe’s men and see if they know anything about what he knew.”

“You think they do?” Armando asks.

“I know they do. The guys I questioned before I left for NYC were newer to his crew. I need to find Alejandro and José. I know they would know because there’s no way he wouldn’t open his mouth about something like that.”

Armando silently thinks for a few seconds. “Then why don’t we start there?” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of your insane idea of going to my dad in hopes that it’ll buy you time, why don’t we just go to Felipe’s men?

We’re going to have to make sure you stay under the radar so word doesn’t get out that you’re back in the city, but we can probably buy ourselves the same amount of time pretending you’re not here versus going to my dad. ”

“Okay … I actually like that idea. We need to work fast and find them tonight.”

“They’ll probably be at Fabien’s club tonight.”

“They go there often?” I ask.

“Lately, yes. Ever since Felipe was killed, actually.”

I nod. “Okay, then that settles it. We’ll head there tonight, and we won’t leave until we get an answer.”

“I think you should come back to my place,” Armando says. “I don’t like you staying here by yourself.”

“Oh, come on. Your dad doesn’t know I’m back yet, and I have the best security money can buy.”

“Yeah, but you never know. I think you should stay with me.”

“Please, Armando. I haven’t been able to sleep in the comfort of my own bed in way too long. I just need to get some rest for tonight, and if you’re worried about me staying in my place after we talk to Alejandro and José, then I’ll go back to yours after, okay?”

Armando shakes his head, and I know he doesn’t agree with my decision, but he finally mutters, “Fine, but I still don’t love this idea.”

“Gracias, primo,” I say sweetly, then get out of the car.

When I get up to my condo, I drop my luggage and head straight for my bed, still thinking about everything that’s happened and everything that’s about to happen.

Coming back to Miami might’ve been one of the most dangerous things I could do, but if it takes risking my life to figure out what the hell is going on, then so be it. I need to know the truth, and I’m finally going to have it tonight.