At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(204)

“Talk to me,” he muttered as he walked to the bed and he saw it.

The covers weren’t thrown back like you do when you get out of bed. It was like she slid out from under them. Colt walked to them, carefully lifted an edge of the covers and saw a phone in the bed.

“Fuck me,” he murmured and picked up the phone. He flipped it open and went to received calls. The last one was from Cal. Colt looked to the bedside clock. She got the call just over thirty minutes ago.

He looked back to the clothes on the floor.

Cal’s jeans, socks, Vi’s skirt, top, bra. Colt’s eyes scanned – a pair of sandals that looked like they were kicked off, sitting by the side of the dresser.

Cal wore tees and Colt reckoned Vi wore underwear.

He went to the clothes and toed them.

No tee and no underwear.

She’d put on Cal’s tee and her underwear from last night.

“Fuck me,” he repeated.

She had been in a hurry. In such a hurry that she hadn’t even dressed. Just pulled on Cal’s tee, her underwear and took off. She got the call while in bed, dropped the phone, slid out without even moving the covers off her, got dressed and went.

Whatever Cal said to her made her move. Or whatever someone said to her on Cal’s phone made her move.

Colt opened his phone, hit Sully’s number and put it to his ear.

“Talk to me,” Sully said.

“My guess, she’s in Cal’s tee, black, not wearin’ shoes. She left her phone in the bed.”

“How you guess that?”

“Yesterday’s clothes are still on the floor, her underwear missin’, Cal’s tee missin’ and her phone was in the bed. I don’t picture Cal as a man who picks his clothes up off the floor. Vi does it like Feb does for me, in the morning when she gets up. He stripped off before goin’ to bed like he probably always does. She stripped off because she was drunk. This morning she got a call from Cal’s phone thirty minutes ago. She grabbed what was handy and she moved.”

“But moved where? Eric reports her car in the drive.”

“No clue.”

“We need to see if we can track the GPS in his phone, got his number?”

“I’ll text it to you.”

“Do it fast.”

“You got it. I’ll keep lookin’.”

“Not much, just knowin’ Vi moved out quick and she’s wearin’ a black tee.” It sounded like a complaint but Sully was just bitching because he was worried.

“Get Pryor on the line. I want Daniel Hart’s MO. And get him to call Sal Giglia. This is family and Giglia could use some brownie points with the cops.”

“Giglia’s got issues, he needs to focus.”

“Giglia’s issues are with Daniel Hart. He cooperates, his war gets a lot less bloody.”

“You ever hear of a big man in the mob sittin’ down with cops, family or not?”

“Nope, but I’ve heard about Giglia and I know he’s unpredictable, he’s got brass balls and he does shit just because it amuses him. Maybe we’ll get lucky and this’ll amuse him.”

“Yeah,” Sully muttered, “maybe we’ll get lucky,” then Colt heard the disconnect.

Colt scrolled to Cal’s number, memorized it and then texted it to Sully.

He moved into the bathroom as he heard Feb call her hellos to the girls, thank Christ.

* * * * *

“I don’t wanna hear this shit,” Vinnie said, sitting out on Sal’s back porch, Sal’s breakfast and coffee dishes on the table, most of the food untouched, the coffee, though, was gone.

“Vincent,” Sal muttered.

“Somethin’ happens to Cal –” Vinnie started.

“Got my boys on it,” Sal stated, his face closed.

He was locked tight. This was because he was worried.

Sal was an ass**le and Vinnie hated him. Vinnie grew up with him and never much liked him but when Sal took his son, the hate began. But Sal was a family man, you worked for him or not. He felt what happened to Vinnie Junior and he felt it deep. It wasn’t just one of his boys who he also thought of as family. It was just plain family and that went deeper. Cal, the same. Vinnie Junior was family, he was one of Sal’s boys. But Cal was also family and he was smart, sharp, honest and didn’t take shit. And Cal had taken a bullet for Sal. Cal was not only family to Sal, Sal respected him. That went even deeper.

This shit cut to the bone beyond Sal surviving last night’s bloodbath. It wasn’t Sal who screwed the pooch but it was his responsibility that his man missed. This was on him and he felt it.

“What I hear, Hart doesn’t f**k around. He finds his mark, the bullet goes into the brain,” Vinnie noted, he hated saying it, hated even thinking it but that was what he knew.

“He won’t get Cal,” Sal remarked.

“He does –”

“He won’t.”

The two men stared at each other and then Sal’s eyes went over Vinnie’s shoulder.

“You get Cal?” Sal asked and Vinnie turned to see one of Sal’s soldiers standing just outside the house.

“No, but the cops are on the phone,” his boy answered.

“Talked to the cops last night. Today got things to do. You call Indianapolis like I asked? Get someone down there to move in?” Sal pressed and the boy’s face stayed solid. He was locked tight too.