And it goes both ways. Luca has a tracker embedded in his ring, too.
* * *
I throwa handful of euros at the driver when he pulls up at the Vatican, and ignore his surprised, happy, “Grazie!” as I fling open the door. I take off at a run, but with much more purpose now. I get to the hotel and go straight to the stairs, because the elevator is going to take too long. I unlock the door to our supreme suite and hesitate, just for a moment, because what if there’s someone in there waiting for me?
But if they knew where we were staying, they could’ve just come there, rather than pulling off the considerably more difficult feat of kidnapping a Mob Boss from the Colosseum. Because there are a lot of cameras there, and a lot of guards, which means they must have paid someone off—severalsomeones…
I march through the room and into the bedroom, and start rooting around in my bag for my usual smartphone, swearing and raging under my breath. How in thehellLuca didn’t see them coming in the Colosseum, orfeelthem, with that weird-ass sixth sense he gets…
And then I understand.
He was so busy worrying aboutmewhen those lights went out that he wasn’t worrying about himself.
I bend double, anxiety hitting me right in the gut, grabbing at myself until the fear and guilt passes over.My fault.My fault. It beats a tattoo in my brain.
“Get it together,” I hiss at myself. “Maybe itisyour fault, but you have a chance to fix it.” I think about Luca telling me he needed to know I had his back, to know he could depend on me in a tight situation, and I grind my teeth together and take a few more deep breaths.
And then I keep looking through my bag for my phone.
When I finally find it, turn it on, and log into the app that tracks his wedding ring, my heart almost stops. He’s close.Soclose, that for a terrible moment I wonder if he left his ring here for some reason, but then I zoom in and see he’s in-the-vicinity close, but still a few blocks away.
I think for another minute, and then I findTeddyin my contacts, my thumb hovering over the “Call” button. Is this the smartest play? What would Luca do?
Luca would rip Rome apart to find me. But he’d be clever about it, too. And the thing is, if the IFF has been tracking us through Rome, if they’ve been able to pick us up wherever we goexceptthe hotel—and that’s a big if, but I go with it—that means they only have access to specific information about us. And while I didn’t tell Luca about my plans for tonight, I did tell two people.
I told Tara, in a chatty email mostly about our encounter with Róisín, that we were going to the Colosseum for a night tour.
And I texted Teo Vitali, too, as the head of Morelli security, so he’d know where the Boss was tonight and why he wasn’t answering his main phone if anything went down back in New York.
There’sno wayTeo has betrayed us. I won’t believe that, not in a million years. But there’s no way mysisterhas betrayed us, either. Not Tara. Maybe she mentioned something to Róisín, though, if she heard Róisín’s side of our meeting this morning? But if Róisín wanted to betray us, to foil what she saw as our dastardly plans, why give us the rosary?
My phone has gone dark under my thumb, I’ve hesitated for so long. I put it down and dig out Luca’s phone from his bag, which is much easier to find, because Luca is organized. And then, from Luca’s phone, I text Teddy.
I need a friend.
Teo Vitali’s response comes only moments later, a contact card with a Roman address, a password, and then a follow-up text.Everything OK Boss?
All good, I text back. No point tipping our enemies off that I have plans pre-0600 if theyaremonitoring our communication somehow…or if, despite how much I don’t believe it, Teo’s suddenly turned rat. Either way, the IFF could hardly believe I’d turn up tomorrow unarmed.
What theywon’texpect is for me to take matters into my own hands. Not Finch D’Amato, the playboy husband of Don Morelli who can’t protect himself, who needs a whole Mob Family to keep him safe, who hides in his husband’s shadow.
I give a grim, slow smile. Oh, these fuckers might think they know me.
But they’re about to find out how wrong they are.
Chapter Fifty-Three
FINCH
Obtaining a gun and a knife is a surprisingly simple operation, although the contact Teo gave me took some convincing that I was who I said I was. Even after using the password, he looked doubtful. It was only when I told him, in halting Italian (because all my Italian has flown from my mind under stress, and the guy didn’t or wouldn’t speak English), that I was there onbehalfof Don Morelli, that he nodded. Then he took me through into a cement-walled backroom, and let me take my pick of the weapons he had to offer.
I took the smallest caliber gun he had, because was most similar to the one Luca has trained me with, and a knife, stubby and squat, but deadly in the right hands. Mine are not the right hands; in fact, if I get to a point where I’m left with no other option than the knife, it’ll be pretty much the end, but I took it just in case I’ll need something to cut ropes or zip ties.
I asked about the location where I saw Luca’s bleeping icon. The guy swipes around on the map on his own phone, zooming in and out of the position I pointed out until I was ready to stick the knife in between his ribs, and then he nodded and said something in rapid Italian.
“Slow down, please,” I begged.
“Cat-a-comb,” he said slowly and deliberately.
