A lump formed in my throat as I realized that Michael’s gun was still on the table in the bedroom. “So you killed her.”
He tilted his head, his smile lurid. “I did what needed to be done, just like I’m going to do now.”
“Kill the only living members of the Cappalini family and take me back with you?” My thoughts drifted to my father. Did he know anything about this? I was sick to my stomach, unable to think clearly.
“Eventually. That is after I get control of what my father almost fucked up. The bastard had grown soft in his older years, forgetting what Ricardo Cappalini had done to him, to my entire family!” The vehemence in his voice was terrifying.
“What are you talking about?” I kept my tone as low and nurturing as possible, shuffling my feet as I moved several inches. He didn’t seem to be paying attention, anger and near desperation taking over. What in God’s name had the Cappalini family done to the Massimos?
He looked away briefly before pointing the gun at my head. “That’s a story for another time and another place. Now, there is no more talking to be done. You’re coming with me and for now, we’ll check on that lover of yours.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about that.” Michael’s voice boomed in the darkness.
I’d stopped believing in fairy tales, but not in dark tales of nightmares. In that moment as Michael shot off a single round, the bullet hitting Franco right between the eyes, I knew my heroes were men created out of evil, men finding a taste of humanity. There would be no white steed taking us to a magic castle, but there would be salvation.
Michael
Revenge.
The word lingered in my mind, my thoughts consumed with the notion. I stood by the window, the bright sun beaming in through the open blinds and drapes. There was no sense hiding any longer. Franco Massimo had been the assassin all along, obviously taking over the family business against his father’s wishes. Then again, maybe it was just another ploy, Franco directed by Dante all along. Now, we’d never know.
I’d heard a significant portion of the conversation as I’d waited behind the door, the aim of my Glock never wavering. My gut had told me another hit would come soon. Granted, I hadn’t anticipated a betrayal from one of my own in such a short amount of time. Someone still believed I was weak.
There were still pieces of the puzzle to finish putting together, but I felt assured that neither Francesca nor I were in immediate danger. Whatever players were left would be forced to regroup.
“This is a mess, Michael. I’m not certain I can hide anything from the Feds,” Shane said quietly.
I heard the closing of the door behind me, the coroner’s unit finally removing the body. Given the public location, I’d been forced to contact Shane, knowing he could at least squash the news for a few hours.
“I’m not expecting you to. The man broke into my hotel room posing as a bellhop and attempted to kill the woman I love. Simple as that. He’s also responsible for the attempted assassination of my father.” I said the words in a matter-of-fact manner, even as I clenched my fist, hungry to find out definitively whether Dante was indeed dead. If not, there would be hell to pay.
“Except Franco Massimo is one of the most notorious criminals out of Europe. There isn’t a law enforcement agency that doesn’t have him on their most wanted list. I suspect there’s a string of dead bodies planted in various locations throughout LA,” he commented, snickering under his breath.
“Not enough.”
“You need to lay low, buddy, until all this is over.”
As if it was going to be over. There would always be a rival gang or wannabe mafia leader who would attempt to destroy the family organization. There would always be someone betraying trust. I’d yet to find out the traitor who’d obviously provided information to Franco.
But I would.
“And you need to make certain I have no issues going out of the country.” I shot him a harsh look.
Shane seemed befuddled, finally shaking his head. “You’ve changed from the man I knew just a week ago.”
I chuckled again and held out my hand, turning it back and forth. “The truth is that I’m exactly the man I was groomed to be, the one I forgot all about.” I could tell he was uncomfortable as hell. “What about the actress?”
“Lila Shutterfield from Camden, New Jersey. She worked for an accounting firm and had never even had a speeding ticket. I checked the poor girl’s Facebook page. Seems she was wined and dined by Franco. She disappeared off the radar about a month ago. As you can imagine, her parents are devastated but at least they have answers.”
Franco certainly had a way with women. I’d heard about his reputation. He was a sick fuck in a four-thousand-dollar suit, using a BDSM lifestyle as an excuse for abuse. The man deserved to die. “I’m going to make certain her funeral is paid for and any other expense her family needs. I’ll wire you twenty thousand dollars if you’ll arrange that.”
He hesitated and I turned all the way around, shoving my hands into my pockets as I studied him. He seemed surprised at my behavior. Maybe there was a little humanity left inside.
“Of course I will. That’s… generous of you.”
“That’s the least I can do, Shane.” I was tired, anxious to talk with Francesca, and needed to see my father. It seemed the entire key to the puzzle rested solely on his shoulders.
His eyes darted to my gun, the one I’d refused to offer up as evidence. Shane hadn’t bothered to push me, although there would be questions raised later. “I’ll file a report and stall as long as I can, but you will need to come in for additional questioning at some point.”
“When I return.” My command was not to be questioned.
“Oh, yeah, Italy. All right. Call me when you’re back. I’ll take care of the situation with the girl.” He walked toward the door, hesitating once again. “I think you’re going to be good for the city, Michael. At least you avoided a bloodbath.”
When he walked out, I turned back toward the window, staring down at the world below. This was my city, a vibrant and glamorous town full of pretty people.
I was no longer one of them.
I sensed her presence behind me only a few minutes later. I’d heard the horror in her voice, the blatant fear. Whatever Franco had done to her in the past was something that we wouldn’t be able to ignore, but I had difficulty accepting. I might be a monster, but not in the methods so many Dons seemed to subscribe to.
“You’re not going to speak to me?” Francesca asked as she moved to the other side of the window, placing her palm on the glass.
“I’m not shutting you out. I’m just… processing.”
“What about Franco?”
“Shane will sweep the attack under the radar for now, allowing me to finish what needs to be done.”
She tipped her head. “And what exactly is that? Dante and Franco are dead. Your father is alive.”