“Thirty-nine.” Fly gives me more.
“Stop it!” Luca lights a small cigar, giving us his back.
The bastard looks younger, but there’s still quite a gap between us. That’s not what’s shocking here. Who would have thought that one day I’d be shooting the shit with two of the Leone’s most ruthless bosses? Technically, they’ve kidnapped me, and I’m forced to stay here—double-technically, I decided to stay put—but still mind-blowing stuff for me.
“Am I going to a party?” I continue to joke. The more Luca’s brows bunch up, the more fun it is.
“He thinks the best present in the world is a full tank of gas and a glass of whiskey. What do you think?” Marco snorts.
Really? I glance at Luca as I munch on the candy. Judging by the little that I’ve seen, I’d say he’d enjoy a more personal present. But what do I know? He’s just my kidnapper.
“That’s enough!” Luca abruptly clips. “The shooting, did you find anything out?”
Marco’s eyebrow kicks up, but he replies to his question. “It seems related to him.” He points at me. Me? Please!
“The real question is, how did they find the safe house?”
“When I left his apartment, I wasn’t tailed,” Luca states. They are talking like I’m not here.
“Carlo would have noticed it.” Marco nods. “There’s more. We’ve had Jack Enzino’s men sniffing around our turf lately.”
Luca’s demeanor changes in a matter of seconds, turning the whole room into a suffocating freezer. “Mario?” he slowly says my brother’s name.
“No.” Marco shakes his head.
Thank God. I let out the air I was holding.
“But as soon as he texts back, we’ll get his location…”
“Fuck!” His fist drops hard on the kitchen island, making me and Fly jump.
“Figlio di puttana! Gli spacco il cranio e ci piscio dentro se solo prova a mettere un piede nella mia città di nuovo. Gli farò rimpiangere il giorno in cui è nato a quel pezzo di merda!”
Marco pats his shoulder before squeezing it and moving him near the window again. Incredibly Luca lets him.
“Mmm, he used every swear word he could, right?” I ask Fly. I know he’s been taking Italian lessons since he got together with Marco. Maybe I should do it as well to enrich my vocabulary.
“Yep,” Fly confirms my statement.
Luca’s hate toward my brother is like a burning star; it won’t stop until Mario’s light dies. Can I trust Luca to make that happen? I grab another Twizzler as I contemplate. I hear a phone beeping, and when I see Luca holding my cell in his hand, I know it’s from Mario. His eyes find mine, rage and resolution burning there. Can he see the dread in mine?
“We are going,” Marco announces. That’s it. No explanation.
Luca disappears into the bedroom. I want to go after him, but the way he looked at me, like I was the enemy, keeps me on the sofa.
“Out where? What about the pizzas?” Fly pouts at him.
He bites my friend’s lower lip and then sucks on it. I don’t look at what else he does because my gaze goes back to Luca as he walks back in the living room, sheathing a big-ass knife.
“I’ll eat a pizza off of your body when we get home,” Marco whispers too loudly for me not to hear.
“Promise?”
“Only if you stay here and don’t go walking around. It’s dangerous out there right now.”
“I have a bodyguard,” Fly reminds him.
“Still dangerous.”
