Chapter 74
“I’m gonna fall over any second,” Bianca said. She looked tired. “Could you go next door and get some take-out espresso, Giorgio?”
“Take-out? Seriously?”
Italians don’t do take-out coffee. If we’re in a hurry, we slug it back at the café and then go on our way.
“I have too much to do here,” she replied.
“You’re turning American,” I teased her.
She looked annoyed. “Just get me a triple shot of espresso to go.”
“Yeah, same for me,” Lucia said from where she was unloading the last batch of clothes near the register.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I said. “Adriano would kick my ass if I left you unguarded, even for a few minutes.”
“Oh please,” Bianca snorted. “Has anything gone on in Florence the last few weeks?”
“No, but – ”
“And do you really think anything’s going to happen in the five minutes you’re gone?”
“Why can’t we all just walk over?” I asked.
“Because I’m slammed, and I’ve still got hours and hours of work to do, and I don’t have the energy or the time.”
“But – ”
“Just please go get me some coffee. Please,” Bianca said in a tone of voice that indicated it was a direct order.
“Yeah, don’t be a little bitch about it,” Lucia said humorously.
I sighed. “If anything happens, it’s on your head.”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Bianca said as she shooed me away.
To be honest, I was more than happy to get a break to see Emilia. Being a bodyguard in a dress shop was the most boring job I could think of. The only good thing about it was that I had the opportunity to pop in and see my girlfriend on a regular basis.
I exited the dress shop and walked past my Mercedes, whistling a little tune.
The café was empty when I strolled in.
Emilia was behind the bar, and she smiled when she saw me.
“On a break?” she asked cheerfully.
“No, just picking up two triple shots of espresso to go.”
She had the exact same reaction I’d had. “What?!”
“I know, I know.”
“Why?!”
“For Lucia and Bianca.”
“Who’s watching them?”
“Nobody, at the moment.”
“WHAT?!” She knew full well that my number one job was to guard the two women.
“They basically browbeat me until I came over here.”
“What, don’t they wanna come see me?!” she asked in playful outrage.
“They do, they’re just slammed at the moment while they’re getting the shop ready.”
“Okaaaaay…” she said as she set out a couple of to-go cups normally reserved for tourists. “They’re going to turn into Americans if they’re not careful.”
I laughed. “That’s what I said!”
“Great minds think alike. Tell them I’ll come over and help them after work, if they like.”
Now it was my turn to be playfully offended. “What?! Don’t you have a date with your boyfriend?!”
She grinned. “I do, but I’m sure my boyfriend will be more than happy to wait a little while longer while I help out his boss’s wife.”
“I don’t know about more than happy,” I said, pretending to be grumpy. “In fact, I’d bet your boyfriend wants to get out of the office.”
“And get me into bed – is that it?”
I leaned over the bar and grinned. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”
She hopped up, leaned over the bar, and gave me a quick smooch before dropping back onto her feet. “You’ll be fine waiting a couple of hours.”
“A whole couple of hours?!” I said in fake shock.
“You’re right – I have no idea how you’re possibly going to survive.”
“I’m an addict, baby,” I said, and flashed her a smile –
Until I heard the sound of a car engine and loud Italian rap blasting outside.
I frowned and turned around.
A black Cadillac parked in front of the café. The music shut off when the driver killed the engine.
Despite Adriano assuring me Don Camerota wouldn’t hit back after Maurizio, I’d been on guard ever since.
I was also still wary that Emilia’s stalker might make another appearance – and this time with backup.
The Cadillac parked out front suggested I might be right…
Although it was confusing.
The Cosa Nostra generally favored higher-end European cars: Mercedes and BMWs for foot soldiers, with sports cars and Bentleys for the top guys.
Cadillacs – while pricey because they were American imports – weren’t the Cosa Nostra’s favored mode of transportation.
But this car was definitely gangster material.
The shiny rims – the nearly opaque tinted windows –
I didn’t like it at all.
Emilia sensed my unease. “What’s wrong?”
“Kneel down and get behind the bar,” I whispered as I edged my hand towards my shoulder harness.
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
“Just do it,” I whispered.
I heard her stoop down behind the counter.
The sedan’s passenger-side doors opened, front and back, and two men stepped out.
They were gangsters. I was sure of it –
But not Cosa Nostra.
At least, nobody that would have been caught dead in Milan, Rome, Florence, or Venice.
They wore track suits – one bright red, the other navy blue.
They were probably in their early to mid-twenties, and heavily tatted – but not like Don Rosolini’s or Adriano’s tattoos. These guys looked like they’d gotten their shit at a bargain-basement parlor, or maybe in juvenile detention.
They were ugly as fuck, with Neanderthal brows and big, meaty faces. They both wore their hair close-cropped with carefully trimmed beards.
And both looked angry as hell.
One of them carried a brown paper bag in his arms – big enough for an armload of groceries – but I couldn’t see what was inside. He also walked with a pronounced limp.
Were these some random thugs that Maurizio had hired?
Were they here for revenge?
I was ready to pull my gun if they came inside the café –
But strangely, they walked right past. They didn’t even glance at us.
Instead, they headed towards Bianca’s dress shop.
“What the hell?” I murmured.
“What is it?” Emilia whimpered from behind the bar.
“You’re fine – it’s okay to get up,” I said.
I moved a few feet closer to the door so I could see the car better.
The windows were heavily tinted, but I could tell someone was behind the wheel.
A getaway driver.
Fuck.
My mind raced through my options.
I had the element of surprise. Nobody had seen me yet.
If I left through the café’s front door, the driver might spot me and let his buddies know I was coming – or come after me himself.
But if I could get into the dress shop without being seen…
There was an alleyway out back where the dumpsters were. Both the café and Bianca’s store let out into it.
“I need to get into the alley now,” I told Emilia. “Can you help me?”
“Sure,” she said, worried. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.”
As I followed Emilia past the storage rooms to the back of the shop, I pulled out my phone and dialed Adriano.
“What’s up?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“Some assholes just parked in front of the shop. Something’s not right.”
His voice immediately became cold and calm. “Who are they?”
“I don’t know, and I’m going to take care of it, but get over here as soon as you can.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
I hung up just as Emilia opened the back door.
“Lock the door behind me,” I told her, “but if I bang on it three times, open it.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, afraid.
“Maybe nothing – but lock it after I’m gone.”
Then I gave her a quick kiss and stepped out into the alleyway.