Revenge (44 page)

“Desperate times….” Her voice trailed off.
“Do we have a deal?”

He smiled, then straightened his face to keep
it out of his voice. She wouldn’t like the reason he was smiling.
“We do.”

He could practically hear Kate sigh in
relief. “So what happens next?”

“I need to make arrangements. Call me at this
number in two days.”

They said their goodbyes, then he snapped the
phone shut.

This was an unexpected and welcome
opportunity. He had something Carlo wanted very much. Despite the
complications—which he was sure he could deal with—his heart filled
with glee. Carlo wouldn’t get Kate cheap. Far from it.

The cost of having her would be Andretti’s
downfall.

The guards seemed startled to see Enrico
outside the suite. Tommaso knocked on the door, and Antonio opened
it a moment later and gestured him inside. Enrico glanced at the
closed door that joined the rooms. “Is she still resting?”

“I assume so. She’s been quiet.”

He walked to the door and raised his hand to
knock. He’d almost turned and said “May I?” to Antonio, but caught
himself. Antonio had no claim to her. Enrico did. And he was going
to exercise it. He tapped at the door, then heard her saying come
in, the sound thrilling through him, like a shiver. How he’d missed
the music of her voice.

He eased the door open, slipping inside. Kate
lay on her back, propped up on some pillows, her eyes closed. They
opened as he shut the door and approached. He studied her, looking
for some clue to her feelings. Her eyes widened and her lips
parted. A flush came into her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
she asked, her tone edged with steel.

He stopped where he was. “Antonio said you
were ill.”

She waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing.
Some morning sickness. I made the mistake of having anchovies on my
salad.”

Enrico smiled.
What had she been
thinking
? “I thought you hated them.”

“I do. But I was craving the salt.” She
reddened.

“You could have put salt on the salad.”

She looked up at him. “I know. I thought
maybe some extra protein….” She trailed off. “Why are we talking
about this?”

He lost his smile. “Because it is easier than
talking about other things.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” She maneuvered
herself to sit on the edge of the bed.

The careful slowness of her movements sent a
spike of alarm into his gut. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Just a little dizzy.”

“Have you eaten or drunk anything since you
were sick?”

“A little water.”

He walked past her and picked up the receiver
for the bedside phone. “You need to eat something. How about penne
with chicken and a little olive oil and parmesan?”

“That sounds good.”

He called room service and ordered for her.
Then he pulled up a chair so he could sit near the bed. “Kate, you
need to take care of yourself.”

She made a face. “Not you too. I already have
one mother hen in Antonio.”

“We just want you to be well.” He sat back in
the chair. He wanted to ask if she still loved him. But he couldn’t
do that. “Antonio tells me the doctor says you can leave in three
weeks. Do you know where you will go?”

Her eyes iced over. That had been the wrong
question to ask. “Where I go or what I do is no business of
yours.”

As her anger added bricks to the wall of
tension building between them, he lowered his gaze to the carpet
and made his voice soft. “I worry about what will happen once you
are no longer in my care. Carlo has not forgotten about you.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Her shoulders
hunched as she spoke.

He reached out, touching her knee. “I just
want you safe. Even if you are no longer mine. Even if I never…”
His throat tightened, and he had to pause for a few seconds before
he could continue. “Even if I never see our baby. I want you both
to be safe.” He let his hand drop from her.
Stop it
. He’d
get her back, he would. He couldn’t lose another woman he loved. He
couldn’t let this child grow up without him.

Kate’s eyes welled. “I’m working on a plan.
I’ll be safe.”

He wiped his eyes, not looking at her, and
sniffed hard. “I miss you,” he ventured, his throat tight again,
making his voice unsteady.
Dio
, he was losing control.

“I miss you, too.” Her voice was soft, and he
heard a quaver in it.

When he saw the sadness in her eyes, he
wanted to wipe it away, to make her smile again. He had to try. He
took her hand. “You must believe me. I can prove to you I am
innocent.”

Kate’s hand went taut in his. “Stop there.
You’ve told me so many lies, I can’t take another.”

“It is no lie. I swear to you.” Why couldn’t
she see that?

She shook her head. “You’re good at giving me
pretty speeches, but not the truth.”

“
Cara
, I am telling the truth. I have
not lied to you since the hospital.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “This whole
situation is so impossible. If I don’t stay with you, you’re
supposed to kill me. How can we ever be honest with each other when
that’s the case?”

Sadness ripped through him. It
was
a
horrible situation he’d gotten her into. “Forget that. I have told
you I will not do it. I will let you leave if you must.”

“Please stop. Just stop.” She closed her eyes
and pulled her hand from his. “It’s over, Rico. Accept it. This is
the end for us.”

Pain seared through his chest and into his
gut, as if he’d taken a bullet. Heart attack? He pressed a fist to
his chest and took a deep breath. No. Just shock. He abruptly stood
and turned away from her.
Do something. The door. Go to the
door
. When he touched the handle, he paused. This might be the
last time he ever saw her.

It can’t end like this
. But he
couldn’t bear to let her see his face. He took a deep breath,
forcing his voice to be steady, though it was still thick. He spoke
to the slab of dark wood in front of him. “You will always have
money, protection, whatever you need. And if you ever change your
mind, I will be waiting for you.” His mouth dried up, the words he
most wanted to say sticking in his throat.
I love you
,
Kate
.

“Rico.” Her voice broke, and his eyes pricked
with tears. “Be careful.” Without thinking, he turned and strode to
her, pulling her up into his arms and kissing her. For a moment she
yielded and kissed him back, then she went rigid in his arms.
No
. He pulled back and studied her face, the tears streaming
down her cheeks, the broken look in her eyes. A look
he’d
put there.

A great black hole opened in his chest, and
he slipped into it, falling. He’d lost. With his thumbs, he swiped
her tears away, his fingers tangling in the wet strands of hair
that clung to her skin. This was the last time, the last time he’d
ever touch her. Dropping his hands from her, he stumbled back
towards the door. He opened his mouth to say something, but there
were no words to put things right. “Take care,
cara
.”

He waited a moment for her to say something,
to stop him, then he turned the knob, not wanting to hear more of
the awful silence that was her answer.

Mute with anguish, Kate stared at Enrico’s
back as he walked out. She’d ended it. She could never unsay those
words, those awful words.
This is the end for us
. And she
could never take him back, or she’d never be able to leave him
again.

Her chest ached, and once she heard the outer
door close, once she knew he was gone, she gave full vent to her
tears, not caring if Antonio heard her sobs. Not caring about
anything else. She’d just about killed herself turning away the man
she loved.

The man she loved, but could never trust.

For the first time in his life, Enrico
understood why people committed suicide. If he’d been the one
behind the wheel on the drive home, he would have wrecked. And he
probably wouldn’t have cared.

His grief when Toni died was but half of this
horrible ache, this gnawing despair. Toni’s death had been
something of a relief, her loss tempered by the fact that she was
out of misery, that they’d had a long happy marriage together. But
Kate—she’d rejected him. And she was taking their child with her.
Another child he wouldn’t get to love, another child who’d grow up
hating him. Another child lost.

What more was Carlo Andretti going to cost
him?

When they pulled up to the house, Enrico
opened the car door himself, not wanting further contact with the
driver or Santino, or any of the guards in the other car pulling up
behind them. He hurried into the house, heading straight for the
study. He poured himself a full glass of sambuca and took a large
gulp, letting the sweet liqueur burn down his throat. He drained
the glass and poured another. He paced around the room for a while,
idly looking out the windows at the garden’s fading splendor.
Autumn crept in more every day. The leaves were turning, drying up,
withering. He felt the same way.

A knock at the door startled him. It was
Ruggero. Perhaps a distraction would help. “Come in.”

The discomfort on Ruggero’s face said that he
knew. No doubt Antonio had told him. The boy meant well, but
sometimes he went too far. “What?” Enrico snapped, his voice a
blade.

Ruggero paused, obviously weighing his words.
Enrico drilled his eyes into the guard, willing him not to mention
it. Finally Ruggero said, “We’ve picked up Trucco. We confirmed
he’s had contact with Carlo.”

Good man. He can read my mind now
. He
softened his voice. “Where is he?”

“Milan. At one of the safe houses.”

“What has he told you?”

“Nothing. Yet. He says he’ll speak only to
you.”

Cristo. Not now
. Maybe he could let
Ruggero handle it. But the don who couldn’t deal with unpleasant
though necessary realities had no business being in charge. He
looked at his watch. The meeting with La Provincia was hours away,
and dealing with Trucco meant he didn’t have to think about Kate.
“Let’s go then.”

In the car, Enrico tried to steel himself for
what was coming. Death was the price for treason to one’s don.
Obedience and loyalty to one’s
cosca
and to the ‘Ndrangheta
were paramount. Traitors could not be tolerated.

A lingering doubt niggled at Enrico. There
was still Dom to consider. Dom, who’d done nothing but argue with
him lately. Dom, who’d threatened his job. Dom, who’d tried to
poison Don Battista against him. Dom’s reasons were sound, his
intentions focused on the good of the
cosca
, but still….
“Can you tie Trucco to the tracking device?” he asked Ruggero.

Ruggero kept his eyes on the road. “There
were no fingerprints.”

Fuck
. It was too much to hope for.
“Have you pulled the men watching Dom?” Ruggero looked at him. They
had to be thinking the same thing. “You’re not convinced it’s
Trucco,” Enrico said.

“He’s only part of it.”

“You may be right.”

“I’ll keep the men in place until we’re
sure.” Ruggero paused. “And I’ve decided to use the traitor’s own
tricks against Don Domenico.”

Enrico stiffened. He almost defended Dom,
then let it go. “A GPS tracker?”

Ruggero nodded. “If the men lose him, we’ll
still be able to see where he goes.”

They pulled up to the safe house a short
while later. It was a nondescript apartment building. The bottom
floor, which had been heavily fortified against attack, contained a
small soundproofed room. That was where they headed.

Trucco was handcuffed to a chair. Two guards
sat opposite him, one smoking and playing solitaire at a small
table pushed up against the wall, the other reading a newspaper.
“Wait outside,” Enrico said to them.

Franco’s jacket had been removed, and he
slumped in the chair, his shirt patched with sweat. His gray hair
was tousled into greasy clumps, and there was a scratch on his
chin, a large bruise on one cheek. “Why am I here, Don
Lucchesi?”

Enrico took a seat a few feet from Trucco. He
crossed his legs and leaned back. “You’ve been talking to
Andretti.”

Trucco swallowed. His eyes flicked to
Ruggero, who stood by the wall, his hands loosely clasped in front
of him. He’d donned a pair of black leather gloves, and Trucco
couldn’t seem to stop staring at them.

“Franco, we can do this hard, but I prefer
easy. Out of respect for who you’ve been to my family, to me.”

Trucco’s eyes shifted back to Enrico. “You
killed my Fiammetta,” he hissed.

Enrico averted his eyes, shame and guilt
washing through him. “I know I don’t know your pain.”

“You will.”

Enrico looked up. “That’s not going to
happen.”