“Then why can’t you tell me anything?”
“I told you, I’m working on it. What are you going to give me in exchange?”
“Give you?” Enzo’s voice hardened. “So far, you’re not giving me anything.”
“Come on, Valardi, you know how this works. I give you something, you give me something. So… What’s it gonna be?”
Enzo sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you the number of the woman who works the front desk at the Four Seasons. Donatella.”
There was a sharp intake of breath.
Enzo grinned. It was well known that Sylvester Blankenship was madly in love with Donatella Turchetta. Enzo had known Donatella for years. She didn’t really work the front desk as much as she was the fixer for the hotel. But every once in a while, she pulled a shift, and that’s where Blanks had met her. He’d been in love with her ever since.
Enzo didn’t mind offering the number because he knew two things: one, Donatella owed him big time, and two, he’d neveractually have to follow through. If Blanks didn’t know who was behind this yet, Enzo would probably find out himself before the man ever did.
“You get me the info, Blanks,” he said, “and we’ll do the exchange.”
“Fucking hell, alright, Valardi. I’m on it.”
Enzo disconnected the call and dropped his phone onto the desk as the smile slid off his face.
If Sylvester Blankenship didn’t know who was shooting at him, that was problematic. It meant the threat hadn’t come from anyone local. This was all an outside operation. Enzo was an outsider to a certain extent himself, but he’d had a residence here for years. He knew the players. Whoever this was, they weren’t part of Milano’s usual web of alliances.
Worse, they hadn’t hired local muscle. Sylvester would’ve known them if they had. Whoever was behind this had brought their own thugs, people who understood the city’s layout and how to move unseen.
Enzo’s mind ticked through a growing list of possibilities. The problem was that the list kept getting longer. Too many names. Too many motives. Too many players capable of pulling something like this off.
His phone rang, startling him. No caller ID. A tightness gripped his gut. For a moment, he debated not answering. But that didn’t seem wise.
He picked up. “Yes?”
“Vincenzo... how I’ve missed your voice.”
Every hair on Enzo’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kathleen paced the bedroom, bare feet silent against the polished hardwood. All she could think about was what had happened earlier.
It was crazy. It was stupid. These risks she was taking… and yet she’d never felt more engaged. It was like she’d been asleep or stuck in neutral, and now her brain was firing again. All those years of constantly living in fear,utter fear, of being discovered, and now she was doing the craziest things imaginable.
She shouldn’t be risking her life. She had a child.
And yet she couldn’t escape the idea that she was making up for lost time. She wanted to feel this energized.
She blew out a breath and stopped in front of the tall casement window, her palm pressed to the cool glass. Enzo had been right about the effects of the adrenaline wearing off. She was exhausted, but still oddly wired. The soft hum of Milan drifted up from beyond the garden wall. Muted traffic sounds. The sharp dog bark. It grounded her.
And at the same time, it didn’t.
If Enzo had just given Ernie back… What was he thinking? If he’d just let it go, this whole mess would be over.
But a large part of her was glad he hadn’t. This was the type of adventure she’d been craving, the kind her brother had kept her far, far away from. But she was a grown-ass woman. She could do whatever the hell she wanted.
And… why would anyone want that ugly little statue? It didn’t make sense. There had to be something more.
Kathleen sighed. She was too worked up to relax. Her stomach growled, signaling her need to eat. She was a stress eater, and this was definitely stressful.
The floor in the hallway creaked softly beneath her feet as she walked through the house toward the kitchen. The warm, rich scent of tomatoes, garlic, and basil pulled her forward. Her stomach growled again.
