Death was all around me. And even though their deaths satisfied me because they wouldn’t be bothering mine anymore, that was all it was, relief that they couldn’t hurt my family.
“You!” Tito roared after Rocco tore the tape off his mouth. “I am going to hurtyouwhen Rocco unbinds these hands.” He wiggled them, like he couldn’t wait to put them around my neck.
Rocco grinned at me. “Should we put the tape back on?”
“Do not dare!” Tito growled. “I will castrate you both!”
“Uncle,” Rocco said. “Shouldn’t you have done that to—” he nodded toward Achille “—before you allowed him to abduct you?”
“I was tired! I had a very unstable patient at the hospital. Achille came out of nowhere in the parking garage. When I wouldn’t tell him anything, he hit me on the head and then tied me up! It just so happened that he abducted me on the evening you sought your revenge!”
“Rocco.” My voice came out tight, urging him to explain the reason why he was here.
Under no circumstances did I want the Faustis getting involved in my affairs. When this night happened, it was on my terms. If one of the Scarpones had come out on top, that was the way the dice would’ve rolled.
Games. So many fucking games. All of them ended.
I’d had this conversation with Rocco on many occasions. I had brought it up again after he’d given me his word that the Faustis would take my wife in if something were to happen to me. Mariposa didn’t know this, but even before she had agreed to marry me, I had asked him to take care of her. She was the sole heir to anything that belonged to me.
Rocco stopped struggling with Tito and focused on me. He dug in his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper. It had been torn out of a journal. He handed it to me.
Dolce. Tonight. Don’t do it as a favor to me, do it as favor to love. I won’t owe you one, but love will.
Mariposa. My wife. I could recognize her handwriting anywhere, especially after reading her journal from front to back. I lifted the paper.
Rocco nodded. “Your wife. She slipped it in my palm before I left your place earlier.” He shrugged. “She spoke to the romantic in me.”
“Release me, nephew!”
We both looked at Tito, who struggled to free himself the rest of the way. We had no time, though. Sirens wailed in the distance. We each took an arm and lifted him up, carrying him out with his feet lifted off the floor. He cursed the entire way but became quiet when we set him in the car. Then he justhmphedand looked out the window, like he refused to speak to either of us.
I took out my computer, making sure all of the precautions I’d put in place were still there. The camera had recorded only a few snippets from the night.
What it did show from inside was the masked men running in and killing the kitchen staff, the Scarpone men running after them, Arturo killing Vito, and then Achille killing Arturo. The note from Corrado Palermo was still with Arturo.
The police would never see footage, so they would have to take a wild guess when it came to Achille. The list of his enemies couldn’t be contained to one page. I doubted the law would put much effort into finding Achille’s killer. Rocco had done them a favor.
“Old man,” I said, still looking over my computer, speaking to Tito. “You saved my life once. You gave me a second chance. My life for yours was the least I could do.”
He slapped me on the back of my head. Hard. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rocco grin.
“Exactly! I am an old man compared to you! Your wife! What of her?”
“I wouldn’t have a wife if it wasn’t for you.”
“Your son? Who would have raised him?”
“You,” I said. “And again, without you, I’d have no son.”
He started to curse in Italian. Even though he was pissed at me for what I’d been willing to sacrifice for him, I really thought he was pissed at himself for getting abducted by a dumbass like Achille. The men would probably start calling him Tied Up Tito or some shit to give him a hard time. No way was Rocco going to let him live it down.
Then my phone rang.Giovanni.
“Mac.” He was breathless, as though he’d been running. He was a big dude, and his voice was naturally deep.
“Talk to me, G.”
“It’s.” He took a deep breath. “Your wife.” He started to ramble off words.Left with Stefano. The store. Vanilla ice cream. Taking too long. Couldn’t get a signal on either Stefano or your wife. Went out to look for them. Glass in the street. Ferrari. Burnt to a crisp. A body in it. Passenger side. Not sure who. Couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. Firemen and police on the scene.
