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“Always wanted to storm the beaches at Normandy, huh?” I joked.
“NO,” Lars said with a raised eyebrow. “Definitely not. But as long as you do it, I’m going to have your back.”
“Thank you.” I looked at Adriano. “I appreciate you being here, I do… but you’re still recuperating from those cracked ribs.”
“You don’t realize how long you’ve been gone, bro.” Adriano patted his sides. “Fully recovered. Clean bill of health.”
“But you and Bianca just got married a month ago,” I protested. “You shouldn’t go.”
“That’s what I told him,” Lars said.
Adriano shook his head. “You stood shoulder to shoulder with me in Florence when the bullets were flying. Forget that I’m your brother – if I don’t help you after everything you did for me, then I’m not the man Bianca deserves.”
“I think she’d rather have you safe.”
“She wrecked that car and almost died to save you and me. I think she’d rather have a man who tries to be as brave as her instead of a coward for a husband.”
In my exhausted state, that really got me. I had to blink a couple of times as my eyes misted up.
“Niccolo said you proposed to this girl,” Lars said.
“I did.”
“Shit,” Adriano muttered as he studied my face. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then I’m definitely going,” Adriano said.
I hugged him again, then said, “All right… by the way, did you get that thing I asked about?”
“Of course.”
Adriano gave me a small box, and I opened it.
“I tried to get the closest one to what you described,” he said.
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I said as I put the box in my pocket.
Then I turned to address the men who had come with Adriano and Lars. “Thank you – all of you. Your presence here today not only means a lot to the family… it means a lot to me. I’ll never forget it.”
The men all nodded and murmured their replies.
You’re welcome.
Of course.
It’s our duty.
Lars popped the trunk of one of the cars and pulled out clothes on a hanger. “Your Guillardo suit.”
Signor Guillardo was a tailor in Florence who specialized in incorporating Kevlar and ceramic plates into his suits and tuxes. They weren’t entirely bulletproof, but they were the next best thing.
“Fuckin’ saved my life when Mezzasalma shot me,” Adriano said.
It was true. The only reason he’d gotten cracked ribs and not a perforated gut was because he’d been wearing a Guillardo tux.
“This isn’t going to be enough, though,” I said. “You brought all the bulletproof vests you could get your hands on?”
