Page 25 of Dagger in the Sea

“Careful, Daddy, you sound like you actually admire me.” I lit a cigarette and sucked deep on the smoke until my lungs hurt. His eyes positively gleamed. Was I simply a convenient tool for him like Val had said?

“Do the research, quote some numbers at him,” Mauro said in his gruff commander voice. “Come off well-studied, and we’ll get him back.”

We.

Yeah. We.

He pointed that finger at me again. “You know how to handle these guys.”

I knew. Oh, I knew.

“And then I’ll give you what you want,” he said.

I held his gaze through the smoke that rose between us from my cigarette. “Val is threatening to feed me to the Tantuccis—his words—for killing their biker pal,” I said.

He waved a hand at me. “You do this for me that won’t happen. But—” that hand went rigid, index finger pointing, a threat. “—you stay away from Francesca, and no matter what Val does or says, you don’t lose control again. You even consider saying anything to my kids about us—”

“We’ve been over that a million times. I’ve kept my word.”

“They can never know, Turo. It would kill them and their mother.”

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I inhaled deeply on the cigarette.

“No.” His low, jagged voice scraped up my spine.

“Then I guess you’d better work a little bit harder at keeping both your kids out of my way.” I squashed my cigarette in the Baccarat ashtray at my side and rose from my seat. “I’ll do the research tomorrow and head out to Miami.”

“Miami? What the fuck for?” said Mauro getting up from the sofa, heading for the front door.

“Gennaro—”

“He’s not in Miami right now. He just took off for an early summer vacation in Europe.”

“Ah.”

“His brother in Naples has this big yacht and he goes over every year for a cruise vacation. Last year they went to Malta, he’d told me. This year, I don’t know.” Mauro’s bottom lip curled, he made a face. Was he envious? He scoffed. “Nice, huh?” He was envious.

I helped him with his coat. “Very, very nice.”

“Find him. Find him now. You don’t have time to waste.” He pulled on the cuffs of the coat.

There was no slap on the back, squeeze of the arm, or wink as he left my apartment. There was only a stern glare as the elevator doors shut on him, separating us.

No, I had no time to waste at all.

I went to my laptop and started investigating the trails of Gennaro Aliberti in Miami, in Italy. His brother, his nephews.

Three hours later I had my answers, booked my flight, and went to my walk-in closet and packed my compact carry-on suitcase.

Mediterranean, here I come.

Athens

8

Turo

This was another Riviera.

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