"She called the ambulance. She waited until she heard the sirens." I hold his gaze. "She's in my house and I'm keeping her. I'm telling you as a courtesy. Not as a request."
The silence that follows is the longest yet.
Then Lukas says from the door in exactly the tone a man might use to discuss the weather: "The Vetti family have made inquiries about the Ostia operation."
Lukas has an extraordinary ability to identify the exact moment a conversation has reached its maximum level of discomfort and interrupt it before someone does something regrettable. It's one of his more useful qualities.
Gabriele looks at Lukas and then back at me and whatever argument might have followed is gone for now. "The Vettis?" he asks.
"They're opportunists. They'll move if they think they can get away with it."
My cousin studies me for a moment then nods. The subject is closed. He reaches for his coffee and looks out at the garden.
Finally he says: "I won't come to the house."
"I didn't expect you to."
"Not yet." He turns the coffee cup slowly between his hands. "Possibly not for a long time."
"That's your decision."
His gaze remains on the window. "But I want her to know I heard it. What she did in the alley." He pauses. "I want her to know it matters."
Something eases in my chest. "I'll tell her."
"And I want her to know I don't wish her harm. What I feel is complicated but I don't wish her harm."
"I'll tell her that too."
He nods and then he sets his coffee down.
"Go," he says. "Deal with Vida. Then we'll see."
I stand. At the door Lukas looks at me with that unreadable expression he's worn for most of his adult life. Despite everything we understand each other perfectly.
On the way out Gabriele catches me in the hallway. For a moment neither of us speaks. The scar catches the light when he turns his head.
"Be careful," he says.
"I'm always careful."
"No." His gaze meets mine directly. "You're effective. That's not the same thing." A beat. "Be careful, Adriano."
His concern means more to me right now than it usually would. Maybe it’s because I know what he's really saying underneath the words. I nod. "I will."
For a moment neither of us moves. Then I say: "You'll talk to her eventually."
His expression doesn't change but he doesn't deny it. "Eventually," he says. "When I'm ready."
That's enough. It isn't forgiveness. It isn't closure. But for today it’s enough.
TWENTY-TWO
Adriano
Paolo has spent two weeks building the plan. By the time we move he knows every gap in Vida's security, every routine, every window. He's identified two approaches that shouldn't exist and he's been methodical about exploiting both of them.
I've worked with Paolo for a decade and I've never seen him more focused than he's been since he got back from that beach.
