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Enzo
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to get to safety, too?” I strapped my chest and backplate on, then hid it beneath a black dress shirt and suit jacket. Not ideal for battle, but we couldn’t greet Nico and his family wearing Kevlar vests and not tip them off that we knew what was going on.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve fired one of these,” Dad said while chambering a round in his rifle. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be by your side through all of this.”
“I’d feel much better if you weren’t, though.” Constantine rounded the corner, joining us in the kitchen.
“You’re stuck with me, son.” Dad set down his rifle. “And there’s something I need to say before this goes down.”
Constantine held up his hand and lightly shook his head. “You don’t need to do this.”
Dad frowned. “I do, actually. I owe you all an apology for making a decision about your lives without so much as consulting you first.” He faced my brother. “But I owe you a separate apology. I’ve been hard on you. Forcing you to make sacrifice after sacrifice.” He gripped Constantine’s shoulder, his tone dropping an octave as he repeated his words in Italian.
“I’m good. I promise. You did what you thought was best,” Constantine answered, keeping his voice level and serious, and then he looked my way.
“What he said,” was all I could manage, not used to my father talking in such a manner, so it threw me for a loop. “We forgive you,” I finally added, since Dad so clearly needed to hear the words, and I didn’t want his head off for what we were about to do. And, I supposed, I truly did forgive him.
When Hudson walked into the kitchen a moment later, Dad cleared his throat and lowered his hand.
Hudson looked at the three of us as if realizing he’d interrupted a “moment,” but Dad nodded, a silent request for an update on his part of the plan.
“They’re on standby. Orders not to intervene until I give them the go-ahead,” Hudson shared. “And if they don’t hear from me by twelve hundred hours, they’ll come in anyway.”
“Not a fan of working with them,” Dad began, his shoulders back and confidence returned, “but I understand this is the best option.”
“The room ready?” Constantine asked as I tucked my Sig at my back beneath my suit jacket.
“Yeah, it’s rigged, and Hudson will be able to set his crosshairs on them from the boat.” I looked out the bay window at our family’s yacht. We had to assume the Brambillas would hit us by air, land, and water. A full-on assault. And our security detail would be hidden from every vantage point, waiting to take them out guerrilla warfare–style. No front lines. Not any fucking lines today. Just surprise hits that we hoped no one would expect.
Hudson handed out the wireless comms Jesse’s team had gifted us last night. “These are much better than our other ones,” he told my father. “You don’t need to tap anything to talk.”
I checked the security camera in the kitchen. “Two SUVs are waiting outside the gate.”
“They’re going to be okay.” Dad wrapped a reassuring hand over my shoulder, referring to Maria, my mom, and my sister.
I gave him a hesitant nod, hoping he was right. My hand hovered over the controls, waiting for the order to let in the vehicles.
“Now,” Constantine said, and I opened the gates so the two black Suburbans could roll through.
After, I grabbed my rifle, knife, and a second pistol, and we went downstairs to the study and hid the weapons in easily accessible locations, and my dad and brother did the same. Then Constantine and I left him there and went to the foyer to greet our “guests.”
I still had no idea if Giovanni was complicit in anything, but I’d consider everyone a threat until they proved otherwise.
“You think our theory’s right?” Constantine asked while waiting by the double doors.
“I guess we’re about to find out.” The doorbell rang, and my mother’s cousin was the first face I saw in the security camera by the door. I tensed at the sight of the others there. Nico and his wife, Alice, were just behind him. Giovanni’s wife was MIA, not a surprise.
Constantine gave it another second, then slowly swung open the door and stepped back.
Giovanni was a few years older than my father. His black suit matched his hair, and I knew he’d have one or two pieces holstered beneath his jacket, regardless of the reason for our meeting.
“Constantine. Lorenzo.” Giovanni offered his hand, and the three diamonds in his wedding band glinted as our palms met.
“Alice. Nico.” I mimicked Giovanni’s greeting when offering my hand to them next, trying not to forgo the plan and kill everyone right there.
Nico was a year or two older than me. Same dark hair and eyes. But his hair was a bit shorter, and his eyes were colder.
And then there was Alice, a spitting image of her mother, standing there with confidence in her red pantsuit. Her black hair was up in a tight bun, and her green eyes moved back and forth between us.
