Enzo grunted. “He knows we’re coming. He still has Bianca, so it’s a given, But don’t kid yourself, he’s watching us.”
Griffin sighed. “I just hope he bought the whole escort thing.”
“You sold it. It looked like you two were in control. The only thing better would be if I were in handcuffs. Airport security wouldn’t have liked that much, though.” Enzo didn’t bother to say that if Vitale didn’t buy it, he would probably kill both of them. They knew it, and he knew it. He was just trying to appease them. He needed their help. God only knew what Vitale had waiting for them.
Callum wound the SVU up the hill, leaving the sights and sounds of Mallorca below. Enzo tried to run scenarios in his head, but it was no use. He wasn’t sure what he’d be up against. Vitale was one slippery fuck. Anything was possible, but the man was also in trouble which added a whole other layer to things that could go wrong.
Griffin and Callum seemed to be okay working with him and they’d hashed out a few things on the plane, but realistically, he had no idea if he could trust either of them. It wasn’t their fight, so he didn’t blame them.
His thoughts drifted to Kathleen. She’d made her position abundantly clear. She’d had her fun with him, and now it was over. He wasn’t sure if she really cared about him or she just didn’t want to feel guilty if he ended up dead. Fair. She owed him nothing. He was a big boy. He understood the rules, and he broke them. It’s not her fault he fell for her. She wasn’t responsible for him. It did rankle that she didn’t feel the same, though. Even if he’d read the signals wrong, which he didn’t feel he had, her rejection stung.
Even her warning had felt like a small concession. Here he was going into the lion’s den with nothing but his good looks to save him. Be careful, she’d said. He’d left careful behind a long time ago and tonight that just might be the death of him. Not her problem.
They made a sharp right turn onto a gated road. The guard just nodded to them as they went by. The driveway climbed fast, narrow, and deliberate, hugging a cliff as it wound upward. Enzo clocked the placement immediately, no wasted turns, no blind approaches. No one stumbled onto this property. They were led to it.
A villa perched right on the edge of the rock, unapologetic about it. Stone and glass, modern lines anchored into the cliff face, the structure cantilevered just enough to make a point but not enough to be architecturally significant. It wasn’t a villa set to be fawned over. It was there to perform a function. It was a fortress.
From the drive, the terrace was impossible to miss; wide, open, and hanging over the water below. There were peoplemilling about on it; no doubt this is where Vitale waited for them.
Enzo’s first impressions of the villa were expensive, well-thought-out, and dangerous. That also described Vitale, or at least used to describe him. Now, who knew? Desperation changed people.
The sea stretched out beneath the villa, deep blue and deceptively calm, the drop sheer enough that anyone going over wouldn’t get a second chance. Enzo noted the height automatically. Not for the view.
For the fall.
Callum eased the car forward. “By the look of things, Vitale didn’t just choose this location for aesthetics.”
“No,” Enzo agreed. “He chose it because gravity does half the work for him, and the tide will carry away any proof of his crimes. Just remember, once we’re on that terrace, it’s going to be hard to get off without going down.”
“Wonderful,” Griffin grunted.
Callum parked the SUV. “Do you think the Callahans are already out there somewhere?”
Enzo glanced around, knowing he wouldn’t see them. “I guarantee it. They are excellent at what they do. I haven’t known them long, but in my business, I have learned to be a good judge of character. These people will not let you down.”
Enzo stepped out of the car and waited for Callum and Griffin to flank him. They still had to sell the charade. It was a small thing, but it might guarantee their safety.
The air smelled of briny salt, warm and sharp. He took a deep breath, and then they headed for the front door.
It opened before they reached it.
Inside, the villa was cool and quiet, the temperature shift immediate. Stone floors. Clean lines. High ceilings that carried sound. Enzo catalogued his impressions quickly, learning thelayout. Everything was expensive, but nothing was soft. No art. No personal clutter. Just structure and intent.
Vitale didn’t live here. He used it.
They moved through the main room, following the mountain of a man who had opened the front door. Enzo automatically tracked angles and exits. Glass walls framed the sea ahead, making it seem friendly with the sun sparkling off it. He knew differently. He caught the faint echo of voices somewhere to his left. Possible security, positioned close by but not right on top of Vitale. Confident? Or careless?
The doors to the terrace stood open. They stepped outside.
As expected, the spacious patio widened abruptly, the stone giving way to open air and a view that dropped straight into blue. The terrace stretched along the cliff edge, broad and exposed, with nothing between it and the water far below except a low stone barrier that wouldn’t stop much.
The sea rolled beneath him, calm on the surface, violent underneath. From here, the height was undeniable. Enzo felt the pull of it immediately, not fear, but awareness. The kind that settled into his bones and reminded him how final gravity could be.
Vitale had chosen well. This was a place designed for decisions that couldn’t be taken back.
And Enzo knew, as he stepped fully onto the terrace, that someone wasn’t walking away from it tonight.
Alessandro Vitale stood near the balustrade with a glass of whiskey, perfectly at ease, as if this were a dinner invitation instead of a reckoning. He didn’t turn when Enzo approached. He didn’t have to.
