8. Thea
8
Thea
D ario pushed me back against a tall tree, out of sight. His eyes flashed with fury, which sent a spike of irritation through my veins.
I’d come here to pay my respects to Fausto. Yes, my disguise wasn’t perfect, but I figured nobody would pay much attention to a feeble old woman carrying a bunch of flowers. They’d assume I was visiting a grave.
Sure enough, none of Francesco’s guards paid me any attention when I shuffled into the cemetery from the south entrance. I kept my head down and stooped like an arthritic old crone. The god-awful polyester dress and brown tights helped, as well as the wool hat and shawl that covered half my face.
“You shouldn’t have come, Thea!” Dario hissed. “Your father and Torrance have only just left. Fuck. If they’d seen you…” He raked his fingers through his damp hair, the gaunt lines of his face betraying how much his father’s death had affected him.
“I know. I watched the funeral from the trees. None of them saw me.” I’d made sure to keep back while pretending to weed an old grave that belonged to some guy called Antonio, beloved husband of Clara, who died aged 87.
Antonio’s grave was now tidy and weed-free. I’d even left the flowers for him. Hopefully Clara wouldn’t show up and wonder who’d been visiting his grave.
Dario cursed some more and then stepped back. The rain fell harder, dripping down my face, soaking the shawl wrapped around my neck. Because it was wool, it itched horribly. Behind Dario, the open grave yawned, abandoned floral tributes scattered around.
The staff were nowhere in sight. I assumed they were sipping hot drinks somewhere, waiting for the last of the family to leave before they filled in the grave.
Dario scrubbed his tight jaw. “We need to get out of here.”
I felt like rolling my eyes, but my irritation melted away seeing how upset he was. Dario was right to worry. If my father had seen me here, he’d have stopped at nothing to capture me again. Funeral be damned.
But he hadn’t.
“Go. You need to show your face at the wake.”
“I know.” He gritted his teeth, not making any move to leave. Knowing how worried he was softened my feelings toward him. Every time he showed me this side of himself, I forgot why I hated him. “Where are you staying?”
“Via San Angelo, near the train station.”
“Cazzo, Thea, that’s one of the worst areas!”
This time, I failed to stop my eyes from rolling back in my head. “Do I look worried?” I reached into the voluminous handbag I’d found in a thrift store and showed him my gun. “See? Anyone tries to mug me and I guarantee they’ll regret it.”
His lips curved up in a faint smirk. “I doubt anyone would look at you twice in that…” He grimaced as he took in my dress and tights. I guessed the ‘old lady’ aesthetic wasn’t doing much for him.
“Not into nonnas ?” I teased, but he shook his head, refusing to be drawn, and looked away.
“There’s a bar called Vito’s around the corner from the station. Meet me there at 9 PM. We need to talk.”
My stubborn side railed at the commanding edge to his voice. But considering he’d just buried his father, I figured he deserved a free pass for once. I watched as he strode away, his long legs eating up the distance easily.
“Your son is an asshole,” I told Fausto, just in case he was hovering in the ether nearby. “But I suppose I better find out what he has to say.” In my imagination, I heard a faint chuckle, as if Fausto agreed with both statements.
Vito’s Bar was a shithole, to put it mildly. Most of the punters in here were low-life criminals spending the money they’d ‘earned’ from dealing drugs, pick-pocketing tourists, and worse. A few of the less drunk patrons threw me interested glances when I walked in, but I ignored them.
“Tonic water.” The barman nodded and passed me my drink, thrusting a payment terminal at me, which I ignored. He grunted in surprise when I slid some cash over the bar. I guess nobody paid cash these days. Heh.
Since it was a little before 9, I found an empty table and settled in to wait for Dario, making sure I had a good view of all the doors in and out of this place.
10 minutes later, he walked in, shook the rain from his head, and scanned the bar. When he spotted me, he came straight over and took the seat kitty-corner to mine.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he sighed, repeating what he’d said at the cemetery earlier. His rumpled shirt and creased jacket made him appear older than his years. “Dad said he thought Francesco had guys following him before…” His voice trailed off for a moment before his jaw tightened. “He’s likely watching me, too.”
“I know. Fausto told me.”
Dario nodded. I guessed they’d spoken after my arrival. God, I hoped Dario hadn’t told the others where I was. I didn’t need the complication of Kyril showing up. Offing my father was best handled alone.
“You’ve cut your hair,” he commented when I pulled my hood down. Feeling self-conscious, I ran my fingers through my short locks. “It suits you,” he added.
“Thanks.” Awkwardness stretched between us, neither of us knowing what to say. In the end, he caved first.
“Thea… I know why you’re here, and I don’t blame you for wanting to end it, but please reconsider.” His body leaned in toward me, caught up in the magnetic pull between us, before he caught himself and sat back. “You can’t do this alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“Of course I can. I’ve spent years doing jobs like this, and besides, I work better alone. He won’t expect me to come after him.”
“He’s not stupid, Thea. He knows that without Verity, there’s nothing stopping you from pulling the trigger on him.”
A group of guys walked in. A couple of them glanced in our direction, but when Dario glared at them, they soon looked away. I barely warranted a first look, let alone a second. I’d chosen a shapeless jacket and baggy sweatpants. With my cropped hair, they probably assumed I was a boy, not a woman.
“We should go. It’s too public here. Come on, there’s a late-night coffee shop not far from here. I know the owner. She’s loyal.”
Jealousy bit hard as I pictured a curvy woman with lush lips and come-hither eyes pouring coffee for him while murmuring sexy things in his ear. I didn’t know the bitch, but already I hated her.
“For the record, Carmel is in her 60s and happily married to Raoul,” Dario said with an amused look. Oh . Guess I wasn’t so good at hiding my feelings tonight.
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes, thankful for the shit lighting in this dive bar. At least he wouldn’t spot me blushing like a schoolgirl. “You leave and I’ll follow in a moment, in case anyone goes after you.”
He nodded and walked back out into the rain. I watched and waited to see if anyone paid attention to his departure, but nobody even noticed. After a few more minutes, I drained the rest of my tonic water and slipped out the side door into the alley.
A cat sheltered under a discarded crate, one paw protecting a half-eaten rat. It glared as I stalked past. The sight of rat entrails made my delicate stomach heave and for a moment, I worried I might lose the remains of my dinner. Which hadn’t been much as I was trying to preserve what little cash I had.
“Are you OK?” Dario asked when I found him standing in an alcove around the corner.
“Not really,” I muttered, doing my best to ignore the unpleasant churning in my belly. If this was what being pregnant was like, there was no way I planned to have any more kids.
“Maybe some ginger tea will help. I hear it’s good for…nausea.”
The pointed way he said it made me look up sharply, but he was too busy watching the surrounding people to notice. Hmm . Probably just generic advice.
Dario walked fast. Too fast for my shorter legs, which meant I needed to jog to keep up with him. Not a soul crossed our path thanks to the abysmal weather. Even the drug dealers and hookers had stayed home this evening.
We traversed the dark streets in silence, down an alley, and across a small courtyard. I kept my wits sharp, and my senses dialed up to max the whole time. If someone was stupid enough to jump us, I was ready for them.
The glowing light of a shop front appeared in front, with the aroma of coffee and food scenting the air.
“I’m about to close,” a gray-haired woman in a floral apron grouched as we walked into the brightly lit space. “Business has been slow thanks to the weather.”
“One coffee and then we’ll leave you to your TV shows, Carmel.”
The woman smiled and ducked around the counter to give him a tight hug. “I’m so sorry about your papa, sweetheart. He was a good man at heart.” Her eyes sparkled with tears before she sniffed and glanced at me. “And who’s this young lady?”
“A…friend.”
“A friend , eh?” She glanced between us while I shuffled awkwardly. Dario refused to look at me, apparently deciding the counter was way more interesting. “Sure. Let’s go with that. Take a seat, kids, and I’ll make coffees.”
Coffee was a terrible idea this late, but I couldn’t be bothered to argue. Besides, I doubted it would keep me awake. A yawn overtook me, and I rubbed my eyes.
“You look exhausted, cara .”
“So do you,” I pointed out.
“Yeah. It’s been a long few days.” He blinked hard, eyes moist. He wasn’t trying to hide his sorrow. He knew how much I’d cared for his father.
“He’ll pay,” I reached out and took his hand as the coffee machine hissed loudly. “They both will.”