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“…oh,” she said quietly.
Had I really become a monster in other people’s eyes?
Did they look at me and see a murderer – the kind of man who would kill a defenseless girl in the middle of the night?
It made me a little angry. This whole thing had started because I’d walked out of the café rather than hurt her!
After you murdered someone else in front of her, the little voice reminded me.
“I can’t believe you thought I was going to kill you,” I muttered.
“Well, I mean, you are in the mafia.”
OUCH.
Not ‘You work for Dario.’
Not even ‘You work for a mafia family.’
No, she’d said exactly what she thought:
You ARE in the mafia…
“Yes, but there’s a difference between those who inflict pain and suffering with no regard for innocents, and those who are in a business that happens to be outside the law,” I argued. “That’s why Dario insisted they get out of drugs and sex trafficking – because he doesn’t want to be part of that anymore. The things he’s keeping – gambling and political influence – they’re not like taking women out of Eastern Europe and forcing them to be prostitutes. He wants no part of that shit.”
“But his father was involved in it,” she pointed out.
“And Dario’s stopping it. In fact, you probably got shot at in Florence because Dario refused to let the Turk do anything in his territory. Well… I think that’s what happened, anyway.”
In reality, none of us knew for certain why the Turk’s men had shot at them in Florence… but his beef with Dario seemed to be the only explanation.
“The Turk… Fausto and Dario talked about him a lot,” Alessandra said.
“I forgot you were there. Yeah, he was the bastard we had a meeting with while you were in Florence.”
Suddenly she said, “My father’s place is up here on the right.”
I couldn’t help but smile grimly. “I know. I’ve been here before, remember?”
To kill someone…
I parked the car in the gravel outside the café. All the lights were out; her father had closed the place for the night. That is, if he’d even been running it while she was gone.
Either way, he’d obviously gone to bed.
I pulled out Alessandra’s phone and handed it to her. “Here. Do you have a key to get in?”
“I know where the spare is hidden.”
“Do you want me to go in with you?” I offered.
She looked conflicted, but finally said, “No… I’ll be fine.”
I held her gaze and tried to think of what I should say.
What could I have said to Rachel to make her come with me?
To give us a second chance?
