There’s a pause for a moment before I share what I learned.
“Alejandro, Salvatore thinks the hits are separate jobs, that whoever’s targeted you is here in the States. Whoever’s going after me could be from anywhere. He’s pretty confident it’s not anyone in Italy or Sicily after you. He doesn’t know whyZiaCosima and Zorzi got involved if it turns out the’Ndranghetadidn’t make me their mark. But it goes beyondZiaCosima having an affair with Zorzi’s father. Apparently, like father like son.”
“Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
I can’t imagine Matáis and Alejandro would ever share a woman—if some alternate universe swallowed us whole and made them cheaters.
“I agree. But according to Salvatore, they’d been together for quite a while.”
“Could it have really been something personal with yourtíaand ex-boyfriend? You wronged them both somehow?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
We’re approaching the park on Staten Island, so Alejandro lets me know he and his cousins are turning off and will surround the park. He takes a left, and behind him I see another car that’s far more inconspicuous. The same is true for the two behind it.
I breathe a little easier.
I find a spot to park and go to the well-lit gazebo. Patrick might suspect—actually, he’ll probably assume—I picked this place so Alejandro could spy. But this also isn’t some shady back-alley deal. He knows I picked this place as a general deterrent from him killing me where anybody could witness the scene.
I’m five minutes early, but Patrick shows up exactly on time. He’s certainly an attractive man, and I enjoyed the times wewere together. But his commitment to killing me makes him rather unappealing these days.
“Patrick, what the fuck?”
“Don’t take it personally.”
“How can I not? You’re trying to kill me.”
“I’m trying to do a job.”
Something’s amiss with him. It’s not like we’re emotionally close, even if we’ve worked together and fucked. But I know him well enough to sense he’s lying—that it isn’t a job.
“Patrick, is this personal?”
“You think awfully highly of yourself if you believe I care enough about you to want to kill you.”
“Then how much am I worth?”
“Ah, my sweet Vittoria, you are priceless.”
“Bullshit. How much are you being paid to kill me?”
“It’s not just about the money.”
“Then what is it about, Patrick? If I’m going to die, then why be evasive? It’s not like I’ll be able to tell anybody after the fact. Why not just let it all out, and I’ll take it to the grave?”
“Nope, don’t think so.”
His dismissive tone rankles.
“Then I’m going to believe this is personal, and you only said that to insult me. Are you crying into your Cheerios because I didn’t fuck you the night of the gala? That I’m fucking someone else instead?”
His cheeks flush, and I realize I hit the mark.
“I never took you to be a Suzy Homemaker, Vittoria, but now you want to settle down.”
“Why should that matter to you? If I did, I’d be one less competitor on the field. You could snag jobs I’d normally take. You don’t have to kill me to do that.”
“True. But I want to watch your boy toy beg for your life before I take it.”
