“Cara mia, stay here.”
“No. Ringo says, ‘That’s two.’”
He looked at me strangely. For a heartbeat, I saw someone completely different staring out from my husband’s eyes. This man was cold, calculating, deadly. Definitely not the warm, caring man I’d slept with. A slither of fear tickled my spine right between my shoulder blades.
“Honey? He says you need to get your head down.”
Mario quickly crouched. “Where is he?”
“Where are you?” I could still hear my sister swearing in the background.
“On the south trail coming up from the beach, not the boat landing.”
I relayed that to Mario. He quickly got on his phone to Firenze and directed him to intercept Ringo. Firenze fired something back and an exchange of rapid Italian bounced between them.
Mario directed a question to me, “Ringo is on that call?”
I nodded.
Loppa cried out, “If you don’t kill him now, I will!”
“Quiet.” Mario stared at me and then glanced at the holes in the canopy above us.
“Boss?” Loppa tried again.
Mario ignored him. “Allie? Hold out the phone and put it on speaker, but do not come to me, understand?”
I nodded and stretched my arm to its full length and tried not to shiver too much as the conversation continued between Mario, Firenze, Ringo, and an irate Loppa, who’d crawled closer to me.
Blood trailed from his cheek, and he’d pressed a handkerchief to it, but his shoulder was also bleeding. I snatched one of the cloth napkins from the table and pressed it against that wound.
Eventually, Mario crawled to me and took the phone from my hand so I could tend to Loppa without impediment. Both wounds were superficial. The shoulder took the brunt of the force, but bled less thanks to the heavy coat he’d worn. His cheek only needed a couple of butterfly bandages.
However, he had difficulty raising his arm. I suggested he should get it examined, but he ignored me as Firenze escorted Ringo and my sister to Mario’s doorstep.
Ellie looked shell-shocked. Her skin was too pale even though she’d stopped screaming for now. In fact, she was uncharacteristically quiet.
We’d moved inside, with Firenze calling for reinforcements and more guards to sweep the slope. I handed Ellie a glass of orange juice I’d salvaged from the terrace, against orders, but she needed the sugar. Then I wrapped a blanket around her.
“Why are you covered in blood?” Her voice wobbled, but luckily she stayed conscious.
I looked down. This morning’s pretty ivory and rose dress was ruined. I’d skinned a knee, and Loppa’s blood had stained the bodice. “It’s Loppa’s.” I swept a coat off a nearby chair to cover it so she wouldn’t pass out.
“The big guy with no neck?” she clarified.
“He’s a teddy bear.”
“I am not.” Loppa passed through the house carrying a long rifle.
“Where are they getting these guns? Italy is really strict about it.”
I glanced at my sister. Her color was finally returning. Also, her characteristic chattiness was slowly resurfacing. “How do you know about their gun laws?”
“Pornstash.”
“I can’t believe you’re calling him that.”
Her cheek flinched slightly. “You were right.”
