“Who is it?” I ask, but he’s already answering.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but the expression on Cav’s face darkens with every word. Not good news.
“Fuck. What a disaster. They actually took him in for questioning? Like this is going to stick?”
Dom? I’m practically vibrating on my chair with the need to demand to know the whole story, but somehow I find a measure of patience and wait.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a few hours. I’m not coming for him, though, I’m coming for Greer and the Karas family. Dom can get out of his own mess. He’s never needed me before, and I’m sure he doesn’t need me now.”
My heart aches at Cav’s statement. I always wished I knew my dad, and Creighton has told me so many times what an amazing guy he was. Cav clearly didn’t have the same type of experience with his father, and that makes me incredibly sad for him.
He hangs up and tosses his phone to the seat.
“What happened?”
“They got a tip that your uncle had some link to Dom, and they brought him in for questioning. Basically they’ll use any reason, but I’m not worried about him. Like I said, his connections are scary and there’s no way they’ll nail him with this.”
“So you think he did it too?”
Cav frowns and shakes his head. “Hell no. Dom never gets his hands dirty and hasn’t in probably thirty years. He gives orders and the soldiers carry them out. That’s how it works.”
This is news to me, since the inner workings of the mob aren’t exactly common knowledge in my bubble. Which brings up my next question.
“Were you a soldier?”
Cav’s expression shutters. “Does it matter? That’s my past.”
I shrug, but my curiosity level is climbing now that he’s dodged the question.
“So you were.” I take a stab at the truth.
His gaze, greenish-gold today, meets mine. “I never had a real designation other than Dom’s errand boy.”
It’s not a real answer, but I’m hesitant to push further. If it’s important, he’ll tell me. I’m not going to make wild conjectures in my head. We’ve come too far for that nonsense. I trust him.
“So, what else did they say?”
“Not much. Your uncle was found in a hotel in Midtown. Cause of death is still unknown. A heart attack is the speculation, or possibly something that mimicked a heart attack if it was truly foul play. The questioning is standard procedure. It isn’t a murder investigation . . . yet.”
It’s the yet that has me wrap my arms around myself. Please, God, don’t let it come to that.
We each spend the rest of the flight lost in our own thoughts.
We head to my apartment as soon as we land.
“Cannon had my phone last, the prick. I know he wouldn’t keep it, though.”
I search all of the likely places he might leave it—desk, nightstand, top of my dresser—but I come up empty. When I return to the kitchen, Cav is standing by the bar and holds up a padded envelope. Its label—GREER KARAS, HAND DELIVERY. DO NOT MIX WITH ALCOHOL—gives me a clue as to the contents.
“I think this is what you’re looking for.”
I can’t keep a scowl from my face as I grab the package and tear it open. “At least he had the manners to turn it off and save the battery.”
When the phone powers up, my notifications are out of control. I ignore them and make a call to Holly instead.
“Are you at the penthouse? Are you okay? Have you heard anything? What’s going on?”
Cav lifts the phone from my hand and press the button for speaker. I guess it makes sense, because there’s no point in me repeating the conversation to him. Holly’s Southern drawl comes through loud and clear.
“That piece-of-shit bastard just had to screw with Crey one last time. I’m sorry, Greer, I know he was your uncle, but he was a prick.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“So the cops came by this morning and asked Crey to come down to the station and talk to them. They didn’t arrest him. Didn’t talk about bringing charges. They don’t even know how the bastard died yet. Hookers and blow, is my guess. Anyway, he got done with the interview and drove out to Westchester to find your aunt, and she’s MIA. So he’s been looking for her for two hours. Cannon’s trying to track her down too.”
That’s Creighton, always trying to take care of everyone and everything.
“When will they know the cause of death?”
“The autopsy should be happening now, or maybe tomorrow if they don’t push it through. Obviously, a lot of people are wondering how he died.”
“How are you? Are you okay?”
“My ankles are swollen, I look like I swallowed a beach ball, and this kid keeps bouncing on my bladder. Just another day in the paradise of being knocked up with the next generation of the Karas dynasty.”
I can’t help but laugh at her sarcastic response. “Do you need anything?”
“I need Crey to get back here with dinner because I’m starving and the cupboards are practically bare in this place. He promised me pizza for dinner after this terrible chicken-and-rice nonsense we had delivered for lunch.”
It’s the perfect intro for my other question. “What are you doing back in New York anyway? I thought you were staying in Nashville until the baby was born.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my fault. I decided I wanted this baby to be born a New Yorker.”