He didn’t tell me what he was going to do, but I knew. There was something different about him the entire day.
The way he looked at me.
Like it was the last time.
The way he kissed me.
Like it was the last time.
The way he touched me,like it was the last time.
More than words.
Rocco had been over, and the two of them had a meeting in Capo’s office. I didn’t like the way Rocco looked at me before he left. Like he might be looking at a widow he’d soon be responsible for.
Again,more than words.
Before Rocco left, I slipped a note into his palm. It was a natural gesture, a goodbye handshake, and that was the end of it. I had no problem using all of my words.
I couldn’t keep still, though. I had given Capo my rosary to take with him, and I missed being able to rub the beads between my fingers to ease my anxiety. For the first time since I marriedCapo, the devil felt close on my heels again.
Slipping on a pair of tennis shoes, I crossed over to the other building, finding Giovanni in the kitchen.
“Any word from my husband?”
He shook his head. “Not since he left.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “I want ice cream.”
He pointed to the freezer. “It is stocked.”
“No. I want vanilla. We have all other flavors but vanilla.”
He watched me for a moment and then called Stefano, his second in charge, into the kitchen. “Mrs. Macchiavello would like you to run to the store for vanilla ice cream.”
“I’m driving,” I said, going for the keys on the hook in a room that housed most of the car keys. A password was needed to get in. The rest of the keys were on our side, in the secret firehouse.Capo thought of everything.
Capo had told Giovanni he had no problem with me going out tonight, as long as one of the men went with me. Which threw up another red flag. Why was he so sure the Scarpones wouldn’t be on the hunt for me?
Giovanni nodded, and Stefano and I went into the garage. The alarm chirped on the red Ferrari and we both slid in. Before I opened the garage, I sent Capo a text.
Me:I’m going with Stefano to get ice cream. We can watch an old movie and drink root beer floats tonight. You’re coming home to me, Capo.
Again, he didn’t text me back. He hadn’t, not since earlier. After I had poured my feelings out to him over an electronic device. All of a sudden it felt…so necessary to tell him all the things.
Truth be told, I didn’t give a damn about ice cream. I was going to Dolce to see where my husband was. To make sure that my nightmare wasn’t coming true—my husband bleeding out on the cement, clutching the rosary in his hands while he left me.
Stefano noticed that we were not going toward the store.
“Mrs.Macchiavello, we are going the wrong way.” He pointed the other way with his finger. “The store is that way.”
I ignored him. He tried again. I still ignored him. I started to go faster, a pressure inside of me that I couldn’t even explain pressing my foot harder on the gas pedal. The pressure was panic.
“Mrs.Macchiavello—!”
Before I could even comprehend what was happening, the rest of the words flew out of Stefano’s mouth in a sort of suspended slow motion:“—a truck!”
Those were the last words out of his mouth before a massive truck came out of nowhere and slammed into the passenger side door of the Ferrari.
