deer watches us from the tree line, this one’s eyes glowing neon yellow. Or do those night-vision lenses belong to some other kind of animal? A hunter, perhaps. Sharp beaks or a mouth with fangs.
“I mean, I know you didn’t come to save me ,” I say.
Mama, Gianni and Tomas laugh on cue like a warmed-up TV taping audience. Johnny Carson never had a crowd so well prepped.
Gina touches my arm. “Mama Bones came for me ,” she says. “She’s my aunt. My mother’s sister. I’m named after her.”
Gina. Angelina. Right. I knew that.
TWENTY-SIX
Mama Bones keys the entrance to what looks like a giant log cabin. The scrub-pine forest has been cleared to within a hundred yards of the roofed, plank board porch we stand on, a boardwalk that encircles the two-story, all-log building. Behind us, a dirt clearing offers parking space for a Boeing 747 beside our white Escalade. An owl hoots. The Jersey night air smells of rain and dry pine needles.
Inside, Mama Bones flips a light switch. A thirty by thirty foot lobby greets my eyes—a four leather lounge chairs, two overstuffed sofas, a green felt card table, brass lamps and two televisions. Pine floors. Pine walls with animal heads.
“Some joint,” I say.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Mama Bones says. “You’ll only be safe here a day or two.”
“Then what?”
She shrugs. “It’s up to you. I bring you here, make you safe for a while because you’re with Gina. The rest of your life is up to you.”
Nice. Mama Bones would make a great Shore Securities sales manager. “You’re leaving me here all alone?”
Mama Bones shakes her head no . “Gianni is going to give you his bug-out bag.”
“Oh , boy. Whatever the hell that is. What about Gina?”
“I ’m taking her somewhere else.”
I sigh. Mama Bones has that conversation-over tone in her voice, not to mention the upper hand. Gina’s her family. Guess I’m lucky to be alive, actually. But I’ll have to be even luckier to stay above ground. Every time I think my situation can’t get worse, it does. At least Ryan and Beth are safe.
“The b edrooms are upstairs,” Mama Bones says.
I glance toward the stairway. The hand-carved log railing and banister is a sculpture. Twisted tree branches, bull horns, cowboys and horse heads grow from the wood , living images of the Wild West.
“Who owns this place?”
“Bluefish,” Mama Bones says. “Gotta be the last place he’ll look for you.”
Gina steps out of the Escalade to hug me. It’s a halfhearted embrace. Indeed, the way Tony’s dark-haired widow dabs back tears with a tissue reminds me of a silent movie. Over-acted. Standing beside the Escalade with me, Gina looks at her aunt, says, “Did you tell him, Mama Bones?”
“He knows plenty,” the older woman says.
“Mama Bones? We discussed this. Austin needs to know the story on Ann Marie. To protect the business...for himself, yes, but also for your son and your granddaughter Carmela.”
Mama Bones shifts her gaze outside the Caddy SUV to stare at me. Like she’s trying to decide if she wants to turn me into a frog. Why did I think that? Who put that in my mind? Think happy thoughts, Austin. Happy thoughts.
“If you don’t tell him, I will,” Gina says.
Mama Bones grunts and slides her face out the window. “Ann Marie Talbot is not just any accountant for the AASD. She does favors for Bluefish and others before him. She was being paid to put the squeeze on you, help Bluefish take over Shore Securities.”
The owl hoots again and a chill climbs the skin on my back. There’s more. There has to be.
“And...” Gina says.
“And that’s why my son Vittorio go to Italy, why he leaves you in charge of Shore,” Mama Bones says. “Vic knows Rags can’t pay his debt to Bluefish, so Bluefish will come after Vic. Vic also knows the AASD investigation is rigged against him.”
“Mr. Vic left me to take the heat? He was willing to risk my family’s lives,
“I mean, I know you didn’t come to save me ,” I say.
Mama, Gianni and Tomas laugh on cue like a warmed-up TV taping audience. Johnny Carson never had a crowd so well prepped.
Gina touches my arm. “Mama Bones came for me ,” she says. “She’s my aunt. My mother’s sister. I’m named after her.”
Gina. Angelina. Right. I knew that.
TWENTY-SIX
Mama Bones keys the entrance to what looks like a giant log cabin. The scrub-pine forest has been cleared to within a hundred yards of the roofed, plank board porch we stand on, a boardwalk that encircles the two-story, all-log building. Behind us, a dirt clearing offers parking space for a Boeing 747 beside our white Escalade. An owl hoots. The Jersey night air smells of rain and dry pine needles.
Inside, Mama Bones flips a light switch. A thirty by thirty foot lobby greets my eyes—a four leather lounge chairs, two overstuffed sofas, a green felt card table, brass lamps and two televisions. Pine floors. Pine walls with animal heads.
“Some joint,” I say.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Mama Bones says. “You’ll only be safe here a day or two.”
“Then what?”
She shrugs. “It’s up to you. I bring you here, make you safe for a while because you’re with Gina. The rest of your life is up to you.”
Nice. Mama Bones would make a great Shore Securities sales manager. “You’re leaving me here all alone?”
Mama Bones shakes her head no . “Gianni is going to give you his bug-out bag.”
“Oh , boy. Whatever the hell that is. What about Gina?”
“I ’m taking her somewhere else.”
I sigh. Mama Bones has that conversation-over tone in her voice, not to mention the upper hand. Gina’s her family. Guess I’m lucky to be alive, actually. But I’ll have to be even luckier to stay above ground. Every time I think my situation can’t get worse, it does. At least Ryan and Beth are safe.
“The b edrooms are upstairs,” Mama Bones says.
I glance toward the stairway. The hand-carved log railing and banister is a sculpture. Twisted tree branches, bull horns, cowboys and horse heads grow from the wood , living images of the Wild West.
“Who owns this place?”
“Bluefish,” Mama Bones says. “Gotta be the last place he’ll look for you.”
Gina steps out of the Escalade to hug me. It’s a halfhearted embrace. Indeed, the way Tony’s dark-haired widow dabs back tears with a tissue reminds me of a silent movie. Over-acted. Standing beside the Escalade with me, Gina looks at her aunt, says, “Did you tell him, Mama Bones?”
“He knows plenty,” the older woman says.
“Mama Bones? We discussed this. Austin needs to know the story on Ann Marie. To protect the business...for himself, yes, but also for your son and your granddaughter Carmela.”
Mama Bones shifts her gaze outside the Caddy SUV to stare at me. Like she’s trying to decide if she wants to turn me into a frog. Why did I think that? Who put that in my mind? Think happy thoughts, Austin. Happy thoughts.
“If you don’t tell him, I will,” Gina says.
Mama Bones grunts and slides her face out the window. “Ann Marie Talbot is not just any accountant for the AASD. She does favors for Bluefish and others before him. She was being paid to put the squeeze on you, help Bluefish take over Shore Securities.”
The owl hoots again and a chill climbs the skin on my back. There’s more. There has to be.
“And...” Gina says.
“And that’s why my son Vittorio go to Italy, why he leaves you in charge of Shore,” Mama Bones says. “Vic knows Rags can’t pay his debt to Bluefish, so Bluefish will come after Vic. Vic also knows the AASD investigation is rigged against him.”
“Mr. Vic left me to take the heat? He was willing to risk my family’s lives,
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