On the ride back, I tried to concentrate on all the plots we’d executed against rival families over the years. I’d always assumed I knew of them or was part of them as I got older, but maybe that was a mistaken assumption.
Back in the hotel room, Sailor was finishing up with Dad as I walked in, and she launched into a speech as soon as the door clicked closed.
“His vital signs are excellent, his pulse ox is fantastic, and his breath sounds are much improved. I don't think he’ll need me here much longer.”
The clinical way she spoke to me made me long for the night before at the dinner table, but that thought just made me snap out of my haze.
“Perfect. Thank you, Dr. Wentworth.”
“No problem, Mr. Costa.”
She retreated to her room, and I was left facing my father.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
“Were there any orders you never told me about?” I asked instead of answering him.
“Orders?”
Oh, but he wouldn't meet my gaze, and that burned a hole in my gut. “Yeah, Dad, any hits or attacks you ordered but never told me about?”
“I didn't tell you about anything when you were younger, but you got all the files when you became of age.”
That was what I expected him to say. “And yet, the Lombardis have been bragging that they’re about to hit it big around here.”
He frowned. “Why would they say that?”
“That’s what I want to know! Gio thinks this about you, and I have to agree with him. I’m not only not officially the head of this family, but I haven’t carried out any orders on my own.”
His expression was unreadable; the ultimate old-school Italian mafia don using the mask to cover his thoughts. “Well, you’re right. I haven't done anything without you in years—decades, at this point—and I’ve told you every single horrible thing I’ve ever done. None of my sins remain secrets.”
When I didn't say anything, he stared me down.
“Not with you, son. I promise.”
I had to believe him, and not only for the sake of the business, but for the sake of our relationship. “Then it’s something old they’re digging up that they’ve decided to be pissed about.”
“We’ve done plenty to them over the years, before the agreed-upon peace talks. Nothing since then.”
My father got up from his chair, and I watched him pace to the window and back to the table. It reminded me how much I took after him, and then I narrowed my eyes.
“I thought you said five steps makes you feel winded?”
He barely spared me a glance. “Sometimes.”
But I watched him going back and forth, back and forth like a caged animal.
“If you’re better, then what game are you playing at?”
“I want her to stick around, okay?” Finally facing me, Dad showed me all the emotions he usually hid, and they had the power to stun me. “I don’t want her to be alone, goddammit.”
My face heated, and so did my temper. “She can’t stay here forever.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “Just like I know that whatever the fuck they gave me in the hospital worked, despite my feelings about being there.”
