61. Killer Vacation
KILLER VACATION
The guard is staring as though I were a ghost. I repeat the request, asking he unlock the large gate that marks the start of my father’s property.
He stammers a reply, reaching for the radio clipped to his waist. He walks a few steps away to speak into it, remaining close enough that I can hear fragments of the conversation.
I glance at Lev in the passenger seat. We agreed it was better for me to drive this final stretch, to be the front face of our arrival.
I think I have far more justification to be upset than Salvatore or my brothers do—even if my father didn’t intend for the marriage to go through, there was no shortage of ways for it to go wrong—but I’m aware me running away, twice, then marrying a Russian mobster who had a mole in their midst doesn’t exactly make me innocent in this scenario either.
Lev appears entirely relaxed. Our marriage isn’t the protection for him that it was for me—my family is probably more likely to want him dead because of it.
But their reactions when I mentioned his name in Salvatore’s office makes me think he has every reason to be confident.
I’m in awe of that impact and incredibly intimidated by it.
I think of the story he told me the other night and wonder if Leo did something similar the day I walked in on him washing his bloody hands in the sink.
Wonder how I would have responded if I’d been put in a similar situation as a child.
I used to see the world in clear contrast. White or black. Good or bad. Right or wrong.
All I see is gray now.
Crunching gravel pulls my attention back to the guard.
“You can go up,” he tells me. “Someone will meet you.”
I nod, not asking for more details before shifting into Drive and heading up the hill.
I don’t know my father’s routine very well.
The times I’ve visited were usually special occasions—weddings or parties or other functions where my presence would be less noticeable among a larger crowd.
Where there were lots of distant relatives I could claim to be related to.
I was never privy to what Salvatore did on a daily basis.
Partially due to avoidance on my part—I didn’t want to know what he was doing.
Familiar apprehension appears the closer we get to the main doors. I’ve rarely known what to expect, coming here so infrequently, but this time is especially uncertain.
I glance at Lev again after we park, grateful he’s here with me.
“It will be fine,” he tells me, unclipping his seat belt.
“I love you.”
We’ve exchanged those words countless times during the past few days in our own private paradise, but they feel weightier out in the open, no longer protected by a peaceful bubble. Odds are, this visit will—
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Lev stiffens beside me as Enzo bursts out of the villa, wearing a furious expression and no shirt. My brother’s angry tone requires no translation, even if Lev didn’t catch the flurry of Italian.
I climb out of the rental car, adjusting my sunglasses as I search for the best opening.
I owe Enzo an apology for letting him walk into an ambush, but I’m sorry doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue when you’re being yelled at.
I don’t know if Enzo knew what the drive contained, and I’m not sure if yes or no is a better answer.
Either he didn’t trust me enough to be consulted or he was on board with selling his sister.
The slam of a second door tells me Lev has stepped out of the car.
Enzo swears again, then pulls a gun out from the back of his jeans and aims it straight at my husband.
“Enzo! Stop it!” I jog right, placing myself between the two men. “Put—”
I’m yanked back, pulled behind Lev before I can complete the sentence.
He maneuvers me with his left hand, his right raised with his own gun.
I struggle, fighting his tight hold on my arm, until Lev silences me with a furious look.
I appreciate his protectiveness, but I’m not concerned Enzo will shoot me.
No matter how angry my brother is, he has that much regard for my safety.
He’s less predictable where Lev is concerned.
No matter his reputation, he led a team that ambushed Enzo.
Not to mention the informant my family now knows about.
“Get your hands off her,” Enzo hisses, followed by a few insults that Lev understands, based on the harsher set of his jaw.
So much for de-escalating things.
Lev squeezes my arm once, which I understand to be a silent stay where you are, then relaxes his grip.
“Put your gun down, Enzo,” I snap. “Where is Papà?”
“Why?”
“Because I came to talk to him about what was on the drive.”
That catches Enzo’s attention. His gaze narrows on me. “You have it?”
Lev pulls the flash drive out of his pocket and hands it to me.
I hold it up so my brother can see. “Put your gun down, Enzo.”
His eyes dart between me and Lev. “I will when he does.”
I glance at Lev, who’s still poised to fire. “You drew first.”
“I’m in my own fucking backyard.”
“Salvatore’s backyard,” I correct.
“He’s not here, so I’m in charge.”
“Where is he?”
“Out,” Enzo replies, obviously unwilling to share any details with me. Or in front of Lev. “He’ll be back soon.”
It doubles as a warning. Salvatore returning to a gun pointed at his son isn’t an ideal start to this discussion.
“I will when he does,” Enzo repeats, a lilt to his tone. He’s enjoying this.
I lift my arm as subtly as possible, nudging Lev’s ribs with my elbow. “Pozhaluysta,” I whisper.
Lev’s gun lowers an inch. Two. Then disappears.
There’s a flash of surprise on Enzo’s face before he grins, lowering his too. “Does he get to make any decisions?”
“Shut up, Enzo,” I say, passing him and striding in the villa.
It’s quiet indoors, so I don’t think Enzo was lying about Salvatore being out. It explains some of the confusion at the gate too. Based on my brother’s unkempt appearance, he was woken up by the call.
A small, surprised squeak sounds overhead. A young woman is standing on the circular staircase, wrapped in a white sheet.
“Ciao,” I say, waving at her. “I’m Enzo’s sister. Nice to meet you.”
Enzo hisses my name, walking over to the base of the stairs. “Go back to bed,” he calls. “I’ll be right there.”
I stifle a laugh, watching the woman scramble back upstairs. “Sorry we interrupted.”
“No, you’re not.” Enzo pulls out his phone. “I’ll have Luca come over until Papà returns.”
“Tell your girlfriend to get dressed and come downstairs. I’d like to meet her.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Lover? Fuck buddy? Paramour? Which term do you prefer?”
Enzo slips his phone back into his pocket. “Luca is on his way.”
“Has Luca met your …” I let my voice trail, allowing him an opportunity to fill in the blank.
Nothing.
I sigh. “Fine. What’s her name?”
More silence. This one feels less intentional.
“Unbelievable. You don’t know, do you?”
“We met last night. I’m pretty sure it starts with—” He shakes his head once. “Are you seriously trying to lecture me after you—”
“Whose car is outside?”
Both Enzo and I automatically glance toward the familiar voice. I hear the steps approaching, prefacing Salvatore appearing in the doorway by a couple of seconds.
I speak first. “Hello, Papà.”