“There’s no advantage to the big bosses to change the balance of power in the state.”
“That may be true or not.”
He pointed to the last packet. “And there’s the Rojos, associates of the street gang The Hombres, th
e people who took out Gibs. They love nothing better than harassing us, probably because Gibs’ arrest shone a spotlight on the Hombres they wanted to avoid. So, it might be them who hired those two goons, or they were acting as an intermediary.”
“But we need answers to that, Okie,” Luke admonished.
“You want my answer? I won’t stop ya. But enough of us have been in harm's way lately, so I won’t require it. These people are murderers, a line none of us has crossed, so I’m not calling the Spawn to arms.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chrissy tried again to reach Jessica, but the call went to voice mail. Her lips pursed in concern. Generally, Jessica never let her messages go to voice mail unless she was asleep. It was already noon in London, so something important must have come up.
“Siri,” she said. “Call New York office.
“New York Office called.”
Marta Grayles, the office assistant who manned the New York office, wouldn't be in yet. The phone rang several times before the call shuttled to voice mail.
“Marta, this is Chrissy. Call me ASAP.”
She had another hour before Marta returned the call, which added to her aggravation of dealing with snarled traffic on the interstate that rolled toward the hospital. Her worry over her absent grandfather incited a bubbling simmer on her inflamed nerves. But the biggest thing on her mind was the subject she needed to broach with her family: that of one Anthony Parks and his marriage proposal.
How would they take this? Grandpa Serafini didn’t want the marriage now, after he’d insisted on it and then warned her away from Saks. Papa generally supported what Grandpa said, and her mother was always the good little Italian wife who kept her mouth shut.
Gloria would be ecstatic. She’d love any distraction from her goal of seeing Mario on the sly.
Chrissy’s phone rang. Because she had the phone propped on a dashboard phone holder, she spotted that the call came from the New York office.
“Can I speak to Christina Serafini?” said Marta. Ultra-efficient and her mannerisms frosty, Chrissy thought she could be a robot.
“Hi, Marta. This is Chrissy.”
“What can I do for you, Miss Serafini?”
“I’m trying to reach Jessica.”
“Pardon?”
“Jessica Saunders, my personal assistant. She’s filling in for me with Mr. Pearson while I take a few days off.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Serafini. I haven’t heard from Jessica Saunders.”
“What about Mr. Pearson?”
“It is not Mr. Pearson’s habit to call me personally, Miss Serafini,” she said crisply.
“Where does the schedule say Mr. Pearson is?”
Chrissy listened to the clicks of Marta’s keyboard, aching anxiety pulling at her gut while she waited.
“It says he’s in Milan with Turner Trower.”
Chrissy scrunched her nose. Trower canceled that meeting.
“Remind me. What’s Mr. Pearson’s next stop?”