“I’m guessing you’re the ‘woman’ Luca was talking about. Carlo’s. Fine. Have him. But I’m taking my son.”
Unable to make any thoughts, unable to do anything but try to protect, Sabina shook her head and held Trey, who was sobbing and squeezing her neck hysterically.
She hazarded a glance at the woman. The gun shook in her hands, but her expression was terrifying—her eyes were alight with manic madness.
“I’ll shoot him, too. I will. I’ll shoot you right through him. Carlo thinks he can keep me away. That he can scare me away. Well, I can take him away. One way or another, I’m taking him away.”
“Please. Please don’t hurt him. He’s your son. You can’t hurt him.” Her words with thick with tears, but she had shed none yet.
“He’s mine. Right. So give him over and I won’t hurt him. I’ll love him. He’s for me to love.”
Sabina couldn’t do it. Trey was suffocating her with his hold around her neck. He was terrified. She could not simply hand him over to a woman so insane that she was threatening to kill what she loved, just to keep him from being loved by anyone else.
“Jenny, what are you doing? Fuck!” A male voice—Sabina was shocked. She turned her head a little and saw a man standing at the other side of the Chevy. He must have been driving. “Just get the kid and let’s go. You shot the guy, so we have to go!”
Jenny walked up to within two feet of Sabina and Trey. “Hey, Roo. Did you miss Mommy?”
Trey only wailed and held Sabina more tightly.
A darkness went through Jenny’s eyes at Trey’s rejection. Then she put the muzzle of the gun on Trey’s head. “I will shoot you both dead. Hand. Him. Over.”
Sobbing freely now, Sabina kissed Trey’s head over and over. “You’re going to be okay, Mr. Trey. Your daddy loves you. I love you. Your mommy loves you. You’re going to be okay.” She pried Trey loose.
Trey bawled and tried to hold on. “Ms. Bina! Ms. Bina!”
Jenny snatched him up and ran back to the car.
~ 21 ~
Design meetings with prospective clients were among the things Carlo hated most about his job, but also among the things he loved the best. Talking about a building he had visualized, making somebody else see it, making them love it like he did, he could do that all day.
Trying to remember how to sell his ideas was harder. Taking absurd questions that focused on the bottom line was nearly impossible. He got impatient and sharp-tongued fairly quickly. Peter excelled at that part, though, and he knew Carlo well enough to know exactly when to take a presentation over.
This meeting, with the C-level executives of Connelly, Crowe, & Mitchell, a major investment firm, was a huge deal, the kind of job that could singlehandedly make Pagano-Cabot a design force in Rhode Island—possibly New England itself. This was a big, beautiful project. They wanted to meet with the second-round candidates to refine their wants and needs before 3D models were made. It was a lot of interaction for Carlo with people whose vision was much narrower than his own. Under the best of circumstances, meetings like these required an exertion of most of his energy just to stay focused and calm.
On the day of this meeting, as important as it was, his focus was poor and quickly tested. Though the day had started out well, with a homey breakfast with Trey and Bina, the first item on his agenda had been a meeting with the Uncles, and his mind kept wanting to return to consider that event.
As always, Uncle Lorrie had sat back, more observer than participant. Uncle Ben was angry at both Luca and Carlo for interfering with Joey’s mistake. Carlo had been surprised, as had Luca. Because of their intervention, the Uncles were not out $40,000. And they’d both taken heavy hits, physically and financially, to fix the problem.
But this morning, Uncle Ben had pushed all $40,000, in neat, bound stacks of crisp bills, across his desk at them. When neither of them had moved to take the bills, Ben had said, “This repays what you lent to Joey, and it compensates you for handling the problem of those who disrespected us by attacking one of our representatives. What you lent will be repaid to us from Joey’s future earnings. The rest is straight payment from us to you.”
Carlo and Luca had looked at each other and then back at Uncle Ben, but they still hadn’t moved.
“Don’t disrespect me, boys,” Uncle Ben had finally said, his voice low. They’d taken the money.
When they’d sat back, Uncle Ben continued, “There is still the problem of your involving yourselves in business you profess not to want to be involved in.”