16. Joao
16
JOAO
T he next morning, I drink two cups of coffee, vacuum my already spotless house, and then do something I’ve been avoiding ever since I found out Stefi was alive. I make myself go talk to Tomas and Alina.
Tomas lives around the corner from me, so I head to his house and knock on the front door. He answers almost immediately. Given that my wife tried to abduct his fiancée, I fully expect him to slam the door in my face.
But when his eyes rest on my face, he opens the door wider. “You look like you need a cup of coffee.”
“I’ve already had two, but why the hell not? Are you offering?”
“Of course,” he replies. “Come on in.” He leads the way to the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker. “Ali just went for a run. She should be right back.”
“I’m back,” a voice calls from the front door, and Tomas’s fiancée, Alina, enters the kitchen, her face flushed. “It’s surprisingly hot out there.” She gives me a warm smile. “Hey, Joao. Good to see you.”
I doubt it. After what happened, Alina has no reason to like me. “I met the padrino last week,” I say bluntly, dispelling the greetings. “You already know what he told me.”
“That the woman who drugged Ali is your wife,” Tomas responds. He hands Ali a glass of water and pours me a cup of coffee. “I didn’t even know you were married.”
“How much do you know?”
“Very little,” he says. “Just that your wife is an assassin. Are the two of you separated? Is that why I’ve never heard about her?”
Daniel mentioned that my marriage was the subject of much speculation, and I just assumed everyone already knew all the gory details. But Antonio doesn’t gossip, and neither does Lucia. Daniel and Valentina only know about Stefi because they’re providing operational support.
“No. We’re not separated, and we’re not divorced, either. I thought she was dead.”
Ali nearly spits out her water. “What?”
Stefi drugged Ali and left her to be kidnapped by a pair of thugs. I’ve heard her end of the story and know she did it for the best of reasons, but still. If there’s anyone who deserves an explanation, it’s the two people in front of me.
“I don’t really talk about my past,” I reply. “But I was trained to be an assassin from when I was a child, and so was Stefi. We used to watch out for each other. She was my only friend. We got married when we turned eighteen. Ten days after her nineteenth birthday, she died in a house fire in Mexico. Or so I thought.”
Of course, that’s not enough of an explanation. Ali and Tomas have dozens of questions, and I answer them as best as I can. I tell them about the fire in Puerto Vallarta, the search for her body, and my refusal to accept that she was gone.
“But you were married,” Tomas says when I’m done . “You loved her, and she still let you think she was dead?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow. That’s brutal.”
If I see the expression of sympathy on his face, I’m going to lose it, so I turn to Ali instead. “I’m sorry about Stefi,” I say tersely. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How? Are you going to look for her?”
“Yes, the padrino asked me to. The search is already underway.” I leave out the part where I’ve already found her twice, and both times, she’s managed to slip away.
“Do you know why she targeted me?” Ali asks quietly.
“Yes. She was in a bind.” I explain about Charlotte Bellegarde and her rapist stepfather, and Alina’s expression turns horrified.
“That’s terrible,” she exclaims. “The poor girl.”
“That doesn’t justify what she did,” Tomas points out.
“I’m not saying it does,” I say tersely. That’s a lie: I am trying to make Tomas and Ali realize that Stefi had no other options. As stupid as it sounds, I want my friends to like my wife. “I’m just telling you what I know.”
“But what you’re saying is that if your wife truly wanted to abduct me, she’d have succeeded.” Alina chews on her lower lip. “She deliberately adjusted the dosage so I’d wake up early. She chose to leave me with my phone. Right?”
“Yes. And she asked me to apologize to you. She’s really sorry. She never meant to get you involved.”
Tomas’s face is a thunder cloud. “You know what this sounds like?” he demands. “Like one bullshit excuse after another. For fuck’s sake, Joao. Your wife made a choice to come after Alina. If you want to pretend that she’s blameless, you do that. Delude yourself if that’s what will help you sleep at night. But don’t expect me to go along with it.” He gets to his feet. “Are you done with your coffee? I think you should go.”
Alina takes in Tomas’s expression and turns to me. “Thanks for coming by, Joao,” she says with a sympathetic smile.
“No worries.” I drain my mug in silence and get to my feet.
Tomas and I have been friends for five years, but he won’t meet my eyes as I take my leave.
Yeah. That went great.
I sent the padrino a message outlining my progress the moment I touched down in Venice. A couple of hours after my disastrous conversation with Tomas and Ali, I get a message telling me to drop by his house at two.
Goran is on guard duty when I walk up. “Hey, Joao,” he says. “How’s it going?”
“It’s been better. You?”
“Can’t complain.” He inclines his head toward the house. “You here to see the padrino?” I nod and he adds, “Door’s open. Go on in.”
Antonio is in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. “Enzo and Tatiana are coming over for dinner,” he says. “And Agnese is away. Give me a minute, will you? Grab a drink if you need.”
I get myself a glass of water. “How’s Signora Moretti doing?”
“She’s good. She and Valentina went shoe shopping or something. Speaking of Valentina, it’s been two days, and she still hasn’t been able to identify the guys you killed.”
“That’s odd.” Valentina usually has all the answers. “Was she able to get a hold of their fingerprints?”
“Yeah, she hacked into the Swiss police database. Only problem: the prints don’t match anything on file.” He turns off the stove and wipes his hands dry. “I need to call Andrei. You killed six people who might or might not work for him. There’s an etiquette to these things, and I don’t want to make Sidorov my enemy.”
He leads the way to his office, waves me into a seat, and video calls the Bratva pakhan. Sidorov answers almost immediately. “Antonio,” he says. “What can I do for you?”
The padrino doesn’t beat around the bush. “We might have a problem,” he says. “A couple of days ago, one of my people was on an assignment in Zurich when he was surprised by some of your guys, and he was forced to kill them.”
Sidorov frowns. “Zurich? No, we’re not doing anything in Switzerland.”
I sit up.
“Are you sure?” Antonio asks. “Could this be something Natalya is working on?”
Natalya is Sidorov’s sister and the Bratva’s second-in-command.
“She’s not working on anything. After Vassili’s death. . .” Sidorov’s voice trails off, and a look of sadness flashes across his face before he wipes it away. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.” He leans forward. “What’s going on, Antonio? What was I supposed to be doing in Zurich?”
“Sending a team to take out the assassin who killed your father-in-law.”
“But that was years ago.” He looks confused. “Besides, Aldo was a prick whose actions repeatedly put my wife in danger. Why would I go after the person responsible? If I knew who they were, I’d send them a fucking Christmas present.”
I don’t understand. If it’s not Sidorov, then who sent the strike team I took out? Who else wants Stefi dead?
Antonio and I exchange a look, and then he asks, “It wasn’t your people who compiled a file on Stefania Freitas?”
“Who?” he asks, his expression blank.
He has no idea what we’re talking about.
Antonio frowns. “Cici sent me a file on the assassin who supposedly killed Aldo, and I assumed she got it from you. Stefania Freitas is married to one of my people, so I figured she wanted me to take care of my own dirty laundry, so to speak. But if you’re not involved?—”
“I’m not.” His expression turns intrigued. “You haven’t been able to identify the dead team?”
“No, Valentina is stumped.”
“Send it to me,” Sidorov suggests. “I have access to databases that even she can’t reach.”
“Will do. Any theories of why Cici sent me that file?”
“No,” the Sidorov pahkan replies. He seems to gather his thoughts before he speaks again. “Cici is my wife’s cousin. She’s family. I would trust her with my life, and I believe she would do the same. However, you know the way she grew up as well as I do. There’s a very small handful of people that Cici truly confides in, and neither Mira nor I are on that list. If she hasn’t already told you why she sent you that file, she’s not going to. I’m assuming you’ve already tried asking her directly and she’s refused to answer?”
“Pretty much,” the padrino replies tightly. “We’re just going to have to proceed in the dark. See you at the next poker game?”
“Sure.” Andrei Sidorov grins like a wolf. “I look forward to taking your money.”
The screen goes dead. The padrino pushes his monitor out of the way and stares at me. “That call was extremely informative,” he says. “I could have sworn that Andrei was after Stefania, and that’s why Cici sent me her file, but clearly, I had it wrong.” He leans forward, his expression frustrated. “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Joao. Why is Cecelia d’Este interested in your wife?”
I’m just as confused. “Could Stefi have killed someone connected to her?”
“Maybe. But Cici is more than capable of taking a lone assassin out without my involvement.”
I don’t care why; I just want to know who wants Stefi dead. “If Sidorov’s not after Stefi, then it means someone else is.” Someone whose motives are unclear and whose movements I can’t predict. It’s my worst nightmare come true. “Venice is still the safest place for her to be.”
“It is,” he agrees. “And my offer of protection still stands.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate before my next words. “Stefi freaked out when she found out I work for you. You haven’t met her before, have you?”
He shakes his head immediately. “No. If we’d been introduced, I’d remember. I don’t forget faces.”
Hmm. “Is there any other reason she’d react that way?”
“None that I know.”
The padrino is excellent at keeping control of his emotions, but I can usually tell when he’s lying. This time, though? I can’t get a clear read from Antonio at all.