Revenge (6 page)

The next big problem was money. She needed
cash he couldn’t trace. All her credit cards were in his name; her
own credit was atrocious. If only she’d known back then what her
poor choices were going to cost her now. But what was done was
done.

Damn it. She had to call her parents. Kate
picked up her cell phone, then put it back down. She’d better get
out of the apartment first. That call was bound to be a long one,
and it would be just like Vince to march back in and demand to talk
to her. And if he saw the bag, he wouldn’t let her leave.

Not if he was in the Mafia.

She rubbed her aching cheek again, then her
eyes flew open. What was she thinking? She couldn’t go out in
public with a big bruise on her face. Jesus, her mind was careening
all over, like she’d turned into a kid with a monster case of
attention deficit disorder. Kate took a deep breath. She needed to
get a grip.

In the bathroom, she rummaged through her
makeup kit, applying concealer and powder to little effect. She was
just too damn fair; every little freckle stood out, much less a
bruise. Kate cursed her genes. Why couldn’t she have nice olive
skin like everyone else here?

After repacking her makeup, Kate picked up
her bag and gave the little apartment one last sweeping look. It
wasn’t much, but she’d had a lot of hope for the future when she
and Vince had moved in.

So much for that.

Breathing in deep, Kate tried to shove down
the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Vince had been the
guy she’d hoped for—a man’s man who wanted a family, who loved and
cherished her, who wanted a long and happy future with her, not
just a night or a weekend in the Hamptons. He wasn’t like all the
rich, slick men she’d dated before him; Vince wanted to settle
down. He wasn’t afraid of commitment.

On their second date, he’d told her that one
day they’d marry, that he, Vince Andretti, would be her husband.
She’d known him just two months when he’d proposed, and she’d
thought it the happiest day of her life.

But he’d just proven that their courtship,
their marriage, was all illusion, a fairytale. Her prince was a
villain in disguise. If she’d learned anything useful from her
mother, it was that you never forgave a man who hit you. Constance
had been quite vehement on that point. She’d never explained why,
and Kate hadn’t asked. She’d just trusted the look in her mother’s
eyes when she’d said it.

It was the only advice she’d ever taken from
her mother. Maybe she should have taken more.

Well, it wasn’t too late for that. But first
she had to get out of harm’s way.

Kate hurried out of the apartment and hopped
on the nearest autobus that headed toward the orphanage. Dottor
Laurio owed her a month’s pay.

She just hoped the director didn’t ask too
many questions about Vince’s handiwork. Kate smirked as she thought
about the word. Handiwork—pun fully intended. At least she could
still laugh.

As the tiny bus lumbered through Cernobbio
and then up into the hills above the town, she thought about where
to go. What about Florence? She hadn’t seen it yet, and it was big
enough that she wouldn’t stand out. She’d be just another
tourist.

A little bubble of hope warmed her chest. She
could manage this. All she had to do was get her check and get out
of the Lake District without running into Vince.

If I’m lucky
,
he won’t pry
,
Kate thought as she headed straight for Dottor Laurio’s office.
Hopefully he’d be in early—never a certainty with Italians—and
could cut her a check right away.

She knocked on his door, her heart
fluttering. No answer. Time to try his secretary. She knocked on
the door next to the director’s. A throaty voice bid her to
enter.

Gina, a fading beauty in her late fifties,
gave Kate a soft smile when she walked in. That smile immediately
turned to concern. “Caterina,
la tua faccia
!” she said,
gesturing to Kate’s face.

Kate’s hand flew up to cover the mark and she
flushed. “It’s nothing. I ran into a door, that’s all.”

The secretary clucked her tongue. Cocking her
head to the side, she studied Kate. “Caterina, that is not what
happened to you.”

She took a deep breath. “Do you mind if we
don’t talk about it?”

Gina pursed her lips and sat back in her
chair. “If you insist. How can I help you?”

“I need to see Dottor Laurio. Do you know
when he’ll be in?”

“He is ill. He will not be here today.”

Damn
. Now what? “I need my
paycheck.”

Gina glanced at Kate’s cheek again.
“
Sì
. If you can wait, Signor Lucchesi will be here this
afternoon. He can issue your check.”

Kate nodded. The wait was risky; then again,
it would be that much less money she’d have to ask her parents
for.

Hopefully Enrico wouldn’t inquire about the
bruise, although he seemed like the kind of man who would. Even if
she’d spoken to him only a handful of times, he felt like a friend.
He’d definitely tried to make her feel welcome and to help her fit
in. He’d even advised her to teach the children English in order to
learn Italian, and it had worked. She still had a lot to learn
before she’d be fluent, but her Italian was much improved.

She said goodbye to Gina and headed to her
office. Nothing to do now but wait. And write a letter of
resignation to Dottor Laurio.

Kate sat at her desk and looked around her
cramped little office. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She’d
personally gone through at least a quarter of the papers in the
still overflowing metal file cabinets behind her, had read the
histories of the children as she’d converted their information to
the new electronic system.

Oh God. She’d have to say goodbye to the
children. Tears filled her eyes again—could she do nothing today
but cry?

At least she had one thing to thank Vince
for; he’d inadvertently led her to her calling. After she’d gotten
her degree in social work, she’d worked with homeless people,
trying to find them permanent housing, but her days had filled her
with hopelessness. Even when she’d succeeded in securing
all-too-scarce low-income housing for her clients, many had ended
up back on the street due to substance abuse or mental health
issues.

She’d been frustrated, adrift, when she met
Vince. Maybe that was why she’d been so attracted to him—he was so
sure of himself, so confident. And he had a future mapped out for
them right away. A future that had brought her here to the
orphanage, to a place where she finally felt she could make a
difference.

Maybe she could find work at another
orphanage—no, that would be the first place Vince would look for
her. Damn it, how could she work anywhere or rent an apartment with
a false name?

Jesus. This plan was getting more and more
complicated. But she’d figure it out. Vince was not going to get
the best of her.

Kate Andretti was no man’s punching bag.

How should he respond to Carlo’s threat?

Enrico sat on the sofa in his study, while
Ruggero stood by the window, waiting for his boss to speak. Various
strategies tumbled through Enrico’s mind, as they had during the
entire forty-five minute drive from Milan to his home on Lake Como.
Should he strike out at Andretti’s holdings, put him off-guard?
Should he respond at all? Dom urged him to make peace, but Carlo
might see that as weakness. And that could be fatal.

In the meantime, he’d have Dom organize
thorough yet discreet surveillance of Carlo and his men. They
needed to know everything about the Andrettis, every base of
operation, every safe house, every official who was on the Andretti
payroll. If he had to strike at Andretti, Enrico wanted to be able
to hit him hard. Perhaps if he could make Carlo feel enough pain
upfront, he’d be able to stop more bloodshed later.

Perhaps.

Carlo had killed Enrico’s mother and
brothers, despite the risk to Dario, who’d been a Lucchesi hostage
at the time. If the man didn’t care about his own son, what would
he care if he lost some men?

Money. That was the key. Cut off the money,
and Carlo would howl.

His thoughts were interrupted by Antonio
coming into the room. He was carrying the carved box, now empty.
“What should I do with this,
signore
?”

“Put it behind my desk.” He pointed to the
shelves built into the far wall, which were filled floor to ceiling
with books and pieces of art placed here and there by Antonella to
break up the monotony. He’d give Carlo a cigar out of that box.
Right before he pulled the trigger and ended Carlo’s life.

He’d have vengeance for his family at
last.

But like so many things he wanted to do, it
wasn’t possible. Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his eyes. He’d
promised Toni.

Carlo had to make the first irrevocable move.
And most likely, it would be Ruggero pulling the trigger, not
Enrico himself. Revenge, as they said, was a dish best served cold.
And best not served by the chef
.

Enrico watched Antonio leave the room, then
looked over at Ruggero, who as always, was watching him intently.
There were few men he counted on as much as his guard. Ruggero’s
lapse in the hotel lobby this morning was puzzling. And more than a
little worrisome. Was it possible, as Dom had suggested, that there
was a traitor close to him?

Ruggero waited, hands clasped behind his
back, his dark eyes expectant. Waiting for Enrico to say something.
Perhaps waiting for the order to kill Carlo. Such a task would be
difficult, possibly even suicidal, and yet Ruggero would accept it.
Perhaps he’d even relish the idea. The man was ruthless, amoral,
and cold to the bone. Could Ruggero have any genuine honor, any
real loyalty? Could he truly be trusted?

Enrico cleared his throat. He fingered a
handsomely bound book lying on the coffee table in front of him.
Niccolò Machiavelli’s
The Prince
. It was a gift from his
godfather, and his bible for navigating the underworld he found
himself in. But it didn’t necessarily have the answers to this
situation.

He looked up at Ruggero. “As you know, this
will be a difficult time. I will call upon you at some point.” He
held the man’s eyes with his. “You will not fail me.” Ruggero
nodded. “However, you are to do nothing now but keep your eyes
open.” He paused, trying to read the bodyguard’s face, but as
usual, the man gave him nothing. If Ruggero was surprised, it
didn’t show. “Do you have any questions?”

“You have your reasons for waiting. I don’t
need to know them.”

Enrico rose, walked over to his desk, and
picked up the phone.

“Shall I go?” Ruggero asked.

“No, I’m having Pino bring the car around.”
He started to dial, then looked up at Ruggero. “I want you with me
today.” On a routine local trip, like the one he was about to take,
Antonio was usually the only accompaniment. At Ruggero’s look, he
added, “Both of you. I’m adding Claudio and Santino as well.”

Ruggero nodded. Although taking four guards
was highly unusual, Ruggero didn’t comment further, perhaps
thinking the circumstances warranted the extra manpower. But that
wasn’t the full reason for Enrico’s caution.

Enrico set the receiver back in the cradle
without completing the call. He should have told Ruggero about Kate
some time ago, but it had seemed of little importance before. That
was all changed now. “One of the employees at the orphanage, Kate
Andretti, is married to Vincenzo Andretti, Carlo’s nephew.”

Ruggero absorbed that information without
blinking. “Do you think they’ve planned something?”

“I don’t believe she’s involved. But I can’t
take any more chances.” He picked up the phone again and punched in
the number for his driver. He asked Pino to bring the car around
and told him to have Santino and Claudio travel ahead and report on
whether Vincenzo Andretti was at the orphanage. If Carlo heard
about the four guards, he’d laugh with glee. But better to live
with his pride wounded than die with his bravado intact. Carlo had
already called his bluff once today. The next time might be for
real.