Revenge (5 page)

But today’s trip to the orphanage, though
regularly scheduled, wasn’t about the children. He hoped to see
Kate. And after Carlo’s threat, seeing her seemed more important
than ever. He wanted to stop wasting the days of his life. To stop
quietly longing after Kate and to do something about it. But it was
impossible, this desire. Simply impossible.

He almost hated that she’d invaded his
thoughts. He should be focused on Toni, should be mourning her
loss, on this day of all days. But he couldn’t. Not without
reopening the raw aching hole that had been in his chest since her
death. He’d tamped down his grief, but still it lingered, dark and
murky, waiting to suck him under. Thinking about Toni was
dangerous; he might break down in front of his men.

The time for tears is over
. Toni had
told him he had to remarry. But how could he just forget twenty-six
years with the woman he loved?

He scrubbed his hands over his cheeks and
chin and summoned up Kate’s face in his mind, needing the
distraction. He had no idea what Kate thought of him. He had to
assume she loved her husband and the Andretti family. Just because
she was newly arrived from America, just because she seemed to
enjoy his company, that didn’t make her any different from the rest
of the Andretti clan.

He studied his reflection in the plane
window, in the voids between clouds. He looked tired. His hair was
tousled, his beard starting to shadow his cheeks and chin already,
even though he’d shaved just a few hours ago. He adjusted his tie
and smoothed down his dark blue suit jacket, pulling at his white
shirt cuffs. In just a few hours, he’d be seeing Kate. He swallowed
against the adrenaline that jolted through him. He finger-combed
his hair, then stopped. He was a grown man, not a nervous
schoolboy. And she couldn’t be his anyway.
Or could she
?
What if she could be
?

The crotch of his trousers tightened in a
most embarrassing way. He shifted in his seat.
Cristo
, he
was a pig. He was still Antonella’s husband. Hers. Even though
their vows had ended with her death, he still felt the weight of
her presence, still wore his wedding ring.

“
Signore
?” Enrico turned toward
Antonio. Seeing that he had his boss’s attention, Antonio
continued. “Shall I call Don Domenico?”

Enrico shook his head. “I’ll call him
myself.” Antonio looked like he had something more to say. He’d
punished them enough with silence. “What is it?”

Antonio colored and hung his head. “I beg
your forgiveness, Don Lucchesi, for not seeing Veltroni in the
lobby. I was closest. I should’ve spotted him.” He looked up at
Enrico, meeting his gaze. “If you wish to demote me, I won’t
argue.”

Ruggero cut in. “If anyone should be
punished, it should be me.”

“Perhaps both of you are right. But it was my
decision to leave without backup. It was my foolishness that nearly
got us killed. Not your inattentiveness.”

“But—” Ruggero started.

Enrico cut him off with an angry wave of his
hand. “Enough. Just do your jobs. And I’ll do mine.”

“I have failed you,
signore.
”

He met Ruggero’s intense gaze. “Agreed.” When
the guard didn’t flinch, Enrico continued. “We’ll discuss this when
we return home.”

Ruggero nodded, saying nothing.

“I’ve failed you too,” Antonio said.

“You’re learning. Ruggero is responsible for
you.”

Antonio reddened again, his fair cheeks
becoming mottled. “He can’t take the blame for my mistakes.”

“He can and he will.” Enrico studied Antonio
for a moment. “You will not make this mistake again, yes?”

“Of course, Don Lucchesi.”

“Then you have learned an important lesson at
no cost to you.” When Antonio opened his mouth again, Enrico waved
him off. “Ruggero will take your punishment. Think on that.”

Silence descended on the cabin. A silence big
enough to think in. But a silence that gave him no peace. He had to
call Dom. And he had to figure out some solution to this mess with
Andretti. But there was no dissuading a man of honor bent on a
faida
—a blood feud.

Enrico picked up the satellite phone kept on
board and punched in Dom’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“
Ciao
, Rico, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Enrico took a deep breath before answering.
“Carlo sent me a present today. A dead falcon.”

“At your hotel room?” Dom’s voice was tinged
with alarm. “How did he know where you were?”

“Either he has someone watching me, or
there’s a traitor in our midst.”

Dom said nothing for a moment, then he
ventured, “If there’s a traitor, it’s the boy.”

Enrico snorted. “You’re not serious.”

“Aside from Ruggero and me, he’s the only one
who knows where you are at all times.” Dom let that sink in, then
he added, “And he is an outsider. I told you not to take him into
the family.”

“I remember.” Enrico risked a glance at
Antonio, the boy’s straight blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin
clearly marking him as
other
. Not one of them, not
Calabrian. But he just couldn’t picture it. Of all his people,
Antonio was the one whose loyalty he was most sure of. The boy
loved him. He would stake his life on it. He
was
staking his
life on it. He’d sooner suspect Ruggero, but he had no reason to
doubt him either; the Velas had long been tied to the Lucchesis.
And when it came to Dom, there was no question. Dom was his first
cousin and his best friend. He took a breath. “It’s someone
else.”

“I’d still keep an eye on him. He came to you
looking for a job, remember?”

They’d had this argument before. Such caution
was a good quality in a
capo di società
, a second in
command, but it was wearing at times. And unwarranted in this case.
“Let it go.” Dom sighed, but said nothing. “There’s something
else,” Enrico said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never good,” Dom teased.

Enrico smiled, then sobered. Dom wasn’t going
to like what he had to say. “We have to stop doing business with
the Andrettis. And the other families who don’t abide by the
code.”

Silence, then he heard Dom clearing his
throat. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do. We’re not men of honor if we don’t
live by the code.”

“The fucking code!” Enrico could practically
see Dom’s eyes rolling. “The code is antiquated. How do you expect
us to compete with the Sicilians and the Russians if we don’t
change our ways?” Dom was careful not to mention the drugs or
prostitution forbidden by the code, in case the phones weren’t
secure. One never knew.

“There are plenty of other ways for the
families to make money. Look at ours.”

“Hmm. Yes, every family has an investment
banker at the top.”

“I’m hardly an investment banker.”

“You’re far too modest. You’re a banker
and
an excellent shot.”

Enrico laughed. “If you say so.”

“You and I both know most of the families
haven’t the brains to do what we do. Hell,
I
don’t have the
brains to do what you do. I know that. That’s why you run the banks
and take care of the wash.” The wash was their code for money
laundering. Most of the families used the Lucchesis to clean their
money—by running it through legitimate businesses or through a
byzantine series of dummy corporations—and to manage it.

He heard Dom exhale before he continued. “You
can’t really mean to cut ties with Andretti. If you think he wants
to kill you now, just wait. And we can’t cut off the others. It’ll
be suicide.”

“I do mean to cut Carlo off. At least him.
Preferably all of them. I know it’ll hurt our profits, but I can’t
stomach it anymore.”

“You and your father. Such men of principle.
Principles are the excuse people use when they don’t want to be
practical.”

“I
am
practical.”

“Of the two of us, when have you ever been
described as the practical one?”

Enrico heard a hint of humor in Dom’s voice.
But what he said was true. “You’re right. As usual. My head’s in
the clouds looking at lofty goals, not at the situation on the
ground.”

“So will you listen to me? We already charge
Carlo and the others more to deal with their dirt. We cannot cut
off all the families. If we’re to deal with Carlo, we’ll need all
the friends we can get—or at least no more enemies.” Dom paused for
a second. “You do agree, yes?” When Enrico gave his assent, Dom
continued. “You ought to be smoothing things over with Carlo. I’ve
been thinking about it, and since your marriage to Antonella kept
the peace for so long, what about marrying Delfina?”

A bolt of surprise hit Enrico in the chest.
“Dario’s Delfina? She’s far too young. And she’s my niece.”

“She’ll be twenty-two next month. And she’s
blossomed this last year. I saw her recently, and it’s been on my
mind ever since to propose the match.”

Enrico turned the idea over. Kate was an
impossibility. And, if Carlo would agree to it, marrying his
granddaughter would solve Enrico’s problems—it would end Carlo’s
threats to his life and his business, and it would provide him with
the heir he needed. What was there not to like?

Nothing. Except that Delfina wasn’t Kate.

“Rico, are you there?”

“I’m thinking.”

“So it’s not an automatic no?”

Enrico didn’t miss Dom’s hopeful tone. “It’s
not a yes, either.”

“Fine. But in the meantime, let’s not upset
Carlo further. Or any of the other families. We have enough trouble
as it is.”

“All right, all right. I’m listening to you.
As usual.”

“As you should. I didn’t get to be your right
hand based solely on my good looks.”

Enrico laughed. He and Dom looked so much
alike people often mistook them for brothers. “Remember,
I’m
the good-looking one.”

Dom sighed in mock sorrow. “Don’t I know it.”
He paused, then continued, his tone serious. “Please do consider
Delfina. It’s the perfect solution.”

“I know.” Enrico sighed. “I’m just not sure
I’m ready.”

“Antonella’s been gone a year. You know she
wanted you to remarry. And to keep the peace with her father. I’m
sure she’d approve of the match.”

Dom had him there. After all, Antonella had
been the one who’d proposed their marriage to Carlo, all those
years ago. The fact that Carlo had taken her counsel, even though
she’d been only fourteen, spoke more for her wisdom than anything
else Enrico could think of. Could he find a similarly developed
mind in Delfina or another young girl? Unlikely. But Kate… Kate had
shown him glimmers of her mind, how she thought, who she was. And
he was hopeful.

But he shouldn’t be. Not if he wanted peace
with Andretti.

“Rico?”

“You’re right, Antonella would approve.”

“So, should I speak to Dario and Carlo about
it?”

“Give me a little more time.” He needed to
get used to the idea. “I need to talk to her first.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

Enrico chuckled at Dom’s eagerness. “I never
realized you were such a matchmaker.”

“I want you to be happy. And I don’t want to
see you shot down in the street like a dog.”

Enrico’s mouth twisted at the image. It
reminded him of the crime-scene photos from when his mother and his
brothers were killed. Primo’s body pocked with bullets, lying in a
pool of blood beside their car, Mario slumped halfway out the open
door to the back seat. It was an image that haunted his dreams. “I
don’t want that either.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re seeing sense about
this.”

“One of us has to be the practical one.” They
both laughed and then said their goodbyes.

After he ended the call, Enrico felt a
niggling uneasiness. Delfina. Could he seriously contemplate taking
her as his wife? Then again, how could he not?

He looked at Antonio and Ruggero. He owed it
to his men to at least consider the possibility. Ignoring it could
get them all killed, could destroy the Lucchesi family, could
destroy the lives of the hundreds of people who depended on him.
Dom or his sons could carry on without him, but only as long as the
men followed them.

The death of a
capo di famiglia
often
brought challengers into the open. Unless there was a clear
successor, preferably a direct heir. And even then, nothing could
be assumed.

If he didn’t marry soon and produce an heir,
he was going to have to openly declare Dom his successor. Making
that clear to the men would help Dom if the time ever came.

If Enrico didn’t marry Delfina, that time
might be imminent.

At the sight of the dark purple bruise on her
cheek, a lump formed in Kate’s throat. She was
such
an
idiot. Tears rolled down her face, and she turned away from the
bathroom mirror.

Wiping her eyes, she sucked in a lungful of
air. She
wasn’t
an idiot. She’d just been too quick to
trust. Too impulsive for her own good. The next man she thought
about marrying would have to prove himself to her—in spades—before
he ever put a ring on her finger. She wasn’t going to make the same
mistake twice.

If she ever decided to marry again.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat,
Kate grabbed an overnight bag and filled it with clothes,
toiletries, a few photos, and some keepsakes she didn’t want to
leave behind. Nothing Vince would miss in case he came home early.
Her passport went in her purse.

Then it struck her: just where exactly was
she going? She couldn’t go to her parents. Or Terri. Vince knew
where they lived. And he knew her friends in New York. Not that she
felt close enough to any of them to ask for help.

Fuck! What was she going to do?

The exact opposite of what he would expect.
Vince would automatically go to New York looking for her. He
wouldn’t think she’d stay in Italy. All she needed to decide was
where.