I knew what he was reminding me of, my war in New York, but at present, it held no fucking bearing.
“My wife can’t hold her breath underwater for long,” I said. “She’s better on land.”
“Where she has experience outrunning the devil,” he said, almost reflectively. “The package will be unloaded at the next port. If they get too close, blow the motherfuckers out of the water.”
He ended the conversation by saying that he’d see us back in New York—we’d meet for dinner.
The lights on the yacht hadn’t come on yet, and I stood in the darkness, watching the ships, trying gauge how far off.
“What's done in the dark will come to light,” a soft voice said.
I turned to find Mariposa standing by the door, watching me.
“Nonno,” she said. “He told me that. It’s a verse, right?”
Even if she couldn’t see my nod, she continued like she had.
“He said that secrets are always uncovered, and the truth is set free—no matter how long buried.”
I held my hand out for hers, and when she took it, I pulled her toward me. She gasped, but it was soft, and the wind stole it. I kept her next to me with a hand on her hip.
“You have a secret to tell me,” I said. “In the morning.”
“Possibly,” and I could hear the grin in her voice. “But I was actually talking about them.” She nodded toward the ships. “I guess we’ll know by morning if they’re after us?”
“They are, but it’s whether or not they’re reckless enough to attempt to steal what doesn’t belong to them—that’s the secret.”
We both became quiet. She didn’t even ask me what we were going to do if they did. She knew the cost of living on the streets. How unpredictable life could be. She applied it to her life daily. To her, the reality of it wasn’t hundreds of miles away. Every day on the streets, she was as close to losing as the ships were to catching us.
I cleared my throat. “Who I am and what I do follows me, Mariposa.”
“Then it follows me, too,” she said. “That’s the arrangement we made.”
Just as she did when she had figured out what happened to Zamboni, the bum who’d hurt mine, she took a deep, deep breath and sighed it out. But when she slipped her hand in mine this time, it wasn’t trembling.
8
MARI
Capo sat across from me, close to the door, in the darkness. I knew he wouldn’t sleep.
From my place in the bed, I imagined his electric eyes being the first thing I’d see if he sat forward—awake and crackling with energy when it felt like the entire world had fallen asleep. Just like the tattoo of the wolf on his hand, those same eyes would emerge from the black of his fur.
Occasionally, I'd imagine I'd hear him breathing...an intake of breath, a sigh, even a yawn. But I heard nothing. He could be as still as a ghost. A presence I knew was there, but only felt because there was a tickle along the back of my neck.
Maybe I even felt it in my bones.
Or maybe not a ghost...I didn't want to think of him that way, not when I had no clue what had happened to his throat. I thought of a mosaic inside of a cave instead—the water. He could be so still that he became a reflection. Depending on how he looked at me was what I sawinhim.
The inside of our cabin was eerily quiet. The walls seemed to be soundproof, but I still imagined the regular noises of the yacht. Things I’d hear as soon as I stepped out of the room.
In one way it unnerved me, knowing that life was loud on the other side of our door, moving around, and I had no clue what was going on. In another, being in the stillness with Capo gave me peace.
Maybe it was a bit like being torn between the hell of life and the heaven of it. I could fall asleep, but it was uneasy.
I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it. What was there to say? He made no excuses for what he did, or ever denied that criminal activity—danger—was a part of his business. I didn’t know everything, but he’d told me he worked for the Fausti family while we were in Sicily. Connect that with this yacht, Captain—who had ties to them too—and I had my answer. Capo had probably had a talk with Rocco about the situation earlier. I figured that’s who he had been on the phone with.
I couldn’t resist watching Capo while Captain had been taking sips of his coffee. Even though Capo’s face could never be described as lively, with a whole bunch of emotions, therefore expressions that I could easily read, I knew he was pissed.
