Page 96 of The Gangster King

I am her...I don’t know what the fuck I am to her.

I thought I knew. Yet here I am sitting outside a fucking motel room in California, watching the shadow of the woman I love.

Let me backtrack.

I’d been asleep for maybe an hour on the night I shot Jono when I got a call from Ricky, who I’d told to stay watching the Baldoni estate.

I didn’t tell anyone else. Just him.

The phone had rung for a long time. I guess I’d exhausted myself and finally crashed. When I finally came out of the deep sleep, I reached for the phone.

“What?” my voice croaky.

“Boss. Ms. Baldoni is on the move,” Ricky said.

I blinked, my eyes burning at the sun coming through the curtains. “Where?”

“Well, um, she’s just climbed on a bus.”

What?

What the fuck?

“What bus?”

“A Greyhound, sir,” he said, sounding worried.

“Follow it.”

“The bus?”

“Yes, the fucking bus. Follow it and get the plates and then get Tiny to trace where it is heading.”

“California. It said Cali, sir.”

Cali-fucking-fornia?

What in the fucking hell is Adelina up to?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

“You sure?” I ask roughly.

“Yes, but I’ll get ahead of these other cars and check the plate number.”

I flopped back down.

I needed more sleep, and if she was headed to California I knew it would take her hours. From New York, it had to be at least two-and-a-half days' driving.

“Get Vinny or one of the boys to meet you in Kansas City and take over driving.” I told him then flopped back down. “Do not take your eyes off her.”

I didn’t need to warn him about what would happen. Everyone, by now, knew about Jono. Plus, he’d been there.

“Not for a second,” he replied predictably.

I’d fallen back asleep in minutes thanks to the adrenaline crash and alcohol but woke to another call eight hours later.

“Hey big brother,” Gianna said.