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“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. Is Dario okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine – although…”
Niccolo paused.
My throat tightened in fear as I waited for his next words.
“…we’re afraid we might have lost Massimo.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “What happened?”
“We haven’t heard from him in three weeks since he escaped with the Widow’s granddaughter. We’re afraid that – ”
“No,” I interrupted, refusing to entertain the possibility. “Massimo’s a tough motherfucker – he’s fine.”
“…let’s hope,” Niccolo said in a melancholy tone of voice. “Did you get her?
The question threw me. “Who?”
“Your ex, the assassin?!” Niccolo said in exasperation. “The woman who took a shot at Dario?!”
Oh.
Yeah.
That.
“…that’s a long story, too.”
“Well, I’d like to hear it NOW.”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. But I can’t really talk right now, if you get my drift.”
I could have told him about Rachel; it wouldn’t have been a problem.
I just wanted to kick the can down the road a bit further and not deal with it until I absolutely had to.
“Is the situation handled?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s all I need to know.”
I was relieved he dropped it.
“Is it safe to come back home?”
“Yes, although Roberto’s still in Hong Kong and Valentino’s in Sicily – ”
“What?!” I exclaimed.
Go away for two weeks, and the whole world changes.
“You know what, never mind,” I said. “Tell me when I get there.”
“When CAN you get here?”
“When do you need me?”
