Page 118 of I Would Beg For You

Chapter 37 Naomi

A knock comes onmy door late in the afternoon. I go open, to find Victor in the hallway. Franco’s next to him, a ball of nervous energy made all the more obvious by his brother’s calm demeanor.

It’s time.

I take a deep breath and follow them downstairs. Luciano’s waiting below, as are Antonio and Marco. I’m surprised Don Giorgio’s also here, and my hackles raise. They brought in the big guns? This was an ambush?

“Figliola,” the old man says as he comes to me, grips my hands, then kisses me on both cheeks.

I curtsy a little in greeting, showing my respect to the elder he is.

“There’s no way you can let us handle this?” he asks.

The best answer is short and to the point—it’s what I’ve discovered with these men, with their kind. In politics, you need to ramble on and wax poetic and lyrical and whatever else other bullshit you need to spew to attain your objectives. Here? These are men of action; words don’t speak so loud with them.

“No,” I tell him softly, yet meaning it with all I’ve got.

He stays silent for a long moment, then he nods.

“Va bene.” His hand comes up on my head while he bows his and whispers something in Italian. A prayer, maybe? “Vai, vai,” he then says, waving us out.

Antonio is staying behind with Don Giorgio. The rest are coming with me. Or rather, they’re taking me to our target.

Once we’re in the Range Rover, Marco at the wheel, I find myself sandwiched between Luciano and Franco, Victor in the front passenger seat. We start on the road, and it seems to be taking us into Manhattan. No, we’re passing through. When we cross the Hudson River, I know where we’re heading. New Jersey. Valentino’s territory.

My hand lands on my belly, and I quell a chuckle. I used to laugh so much at all those celebrities who got caught on pictures with their hands always on their rounded bellies when they were pregnant. Guess it’s an innate instinct—for many women, they become mothers as soon as they know there’s a little one growing in them. Maternal instincts don’t wait to kick in after birth, or as the kid grows, or even never as in some cases. I must count myself lucky I already adore this little bean, who according to the websites, must already weigh about two pounds right now.

For you, baby, I say in my mind.And for your daddy.

A series of flutters inside seems to indicate that maybe she heard me. I pull strength from this the farther we get from Jersey City.

We come to a stop somewhere around Newark. The drone of airplanes is a constant dull roar overhead, and the bone-numbing sound is almost comforting as we alight from the vehicle near some warehouses that have seen better days. I knew we weren’t going to wherever Joel Smith had been hiding. Marco and Pesci extracted him earlier and brought him here, onAndretti-sanctioned grounds. I’m an Andretti, too, so even my business must be dealt with here.

So be it. I breathe in deep, then pause, my hand going to Victor’s arm, stilling him as the others start moving ahead.

His thick eyebrows ask the question for him.What?

I lick my lips. The plan was always to end the life of that fucker in there. During the ride, though, I’ve had time to refine it into actionable steps. Well, I hope they’re doable. That’s why I need to run them by Victor first, make sure I also have his and his brothers’ cooperation in the way I want this whole thing to play out.

He’s still frowning at me when I finish.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

His large hand is surprisingly gentle as he places it on my shoulder and steers me forward. The others have stopped at the big door guarded by a handful of men with automatic rifles hanging down their back.

“You’re ready?” Luciano asks me.

I nod.

Franco slips his hand into mine. “Cara, you can still turn around.”

It’s not coddling or him being an obnoxious man. I won’t come back out as the same person who went in when we go ahead with this plan. But I’m ready for this. It’s necessary.

“Let’s do this,” I tell them.

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