AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What does that mean?”
This was good news. At least, for Francis. “It means his body will never be found. No body, no murder charge.”
Francis sighed hard. “The authorities aren’t looking for us?”
“There’s no mention of you.” He clicked a few more articles and then searched for Father Scott, but no new articles popped up, just old ones regarding his kidnap at the hands of suspected Mafia.
“How does that happen,” Francis whispered. “How does… How does a thing like murder get missed?”
“My guess is Neo was there for cleanup. After he sold you that gun, it was pretty fucking obvious to Sasha what was going to happen. The DeSica, the Battaglia… A dead archbishop is heat nobody needs.”
“He uh… He said, when he sold the gun, his boss wanted to see how it played out.”
Vitari nodded. “His boss being Sasha—the fucking Russian. Makes sense.”
“I thought he meant Giancarlo.”
“Like I said, Neo was a good liar.”
“Then I’m—we’re not wanted for murder?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Francis hiccupped a relieved laugh and leaned back on the lounger.
The small waves lapped the shore, and the nearby palms swayed in a soft breeze. Francis had that faraway look about him again; the frantic edge of panic had vanished from his eyes. Vitari let him have the relief for a few moments. The cops weren’t after them, but they still had a whole lot of professional killers on their tails—killers with zero morals who didn’t give a shit for laws.
“Who do you think was the man asking after you in the hotel back in Panama?” Francis asked, with a little more color in his face.
“Could have been any number of people. DeSica, Battaglia… If there’s a hit with my name on it, any number of opportunistic assholes will want a piece of the turncoat Battaglia don’s son. And you.”
“There’s a hit out on me?”
He was so fucking adorable sometimes it hurt Vitari’s heart. “Padre, you had a hit out on you before the most recent clusterfuck. That shot in St Peter’s Square?” Francis touched his forehead. “We still don’t know who pulled the trigger,” Vitari added.
Francis grimaced, probably remembering how close he’d come to losing his life that day. “I thought it was DeSica?”
“No, I asked, and it wasn’t them.”
“You asked?”
“Sasha helped with the fake-death act—the Russian bastard really wanted that Battaglia trafficking info. But he assured me your hit wasn’t them. Wasn’t my father either. So… I don’t know. Someone wanted you gone.”
Francis fell quiet, like he did sometimes when he had something to say that he knew Vitari wouldn’t like. He looked down at the burn on his palm, the scar Vitari’s father had put there. Vitari would hate Giancarlo for that and that alone, never mind all the other shit he’d done. He’d hurt Francis knowing Vitari cared for him. Perhaps because of it.
“Giancarlo offered me five million euros to walk away.”
“Fuck,” Vitari gasped. He hadn’t known that. Jesus, the depths his father would dredge to ruin Vitari’s life were unfathomable.
“I keep asking myself why? Why not just kill me? He could have.”
“Was that before or after he burned your hand?” Vitari asked, sounding cold.
“Before.” Francis glanced at his palm. “Do you think he maybe… didn’t want to kill me?”
“You were protected. He couldn’t.”
“Maybe…”
