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If they hoped to ransom him, they were about to discover Giancarlo would prefer him dead rather than have him back on Italian soil.
He watched the San Blas coastline fade away until there was nothing but the relentless sun and a whole lot of Caribbean Sea between him and Francis.
He’d be all right, he was Francis… But this time, Vitari was the one facing uncertainty, and now that he had something to live for, fear of losing it all crawled under his skin.
Don’t do anything stupid, Francis.
Vitari would get out of this, and he’d get back to him. All Francis had to do was stay put. How hard could that be?
CHAPTER NINE
Francis
Francis sat at the table and reread the note. Vitari hadn’t returned from his walk.
Francis had woken late, found the note, showered, gotten dressed, and warmed up the coffee Vitari had made, but as the minutes had ticked into hours, an uneasy feeling crept into his gut.
Perhaps Vitari had gotten delayed at the doctor’s?
Francis couldn’t sit and wait a moment longer. He left the cabana, hurrying from the resort and down the street toward Doctor Mia’s house. His leg throbbed—the painkillers had worn off during the night. But that was fine, he’d probably find Vitari chatting with Mia, and then once he’d taken the meds, they’d go find somewhere to have breakfast together. Over breakfast, they’d discuss everything. After last night, things had changed for the better. They were finally talking, like they should have done weeks ago.
“Your friend Vitari?” Mia asked, meeting Francis on her porch. “I haven’t seen him. But I can give you the medication. How do you feel? Any side effects from the painkillers you had yesterday?”
He thanked her and waited for her return with the tablets and squinted at the church across the road. If Vitari had been returning to the resort, Francis would have seen him on the walk over. Perhaps he’d taken a stroll farther down the beach?
“Here you are,” Mia said. “Take two three times a day with food.”
He thanked her again, told her he’d check in later, then headed to the beach, where he dry-swallowed the tablets and limped along the sand. He scanned under each parasol for Vitari’s distinctive figure, but he wasn’t on the beach. He wasn’t with the Jeep either, and he wasn’t back at the beach house.
Vitari wasn’t anywhere.
Standing back on the street in front of the church, baking under the sun, Francis checked the note again.
Hey, Francis.
I’m taking a walk.
I’ll grab your meds from the doctor.
V.A.
Amore mio, x
It had been hours.
And he hadn’t made it to Doctor Mia’s.
Something had happened to him between the resort and town. Francis could feel it inside, could feel Vitari’s absence.
“You’re looking better.”
Francis squinted up the church steps at the grey-haired man smiling back at him. The tab of white at his throat was both familiar and on a lesser level, alarming, as though this priest would instantly know all the sins Francis had committed in the past few weeks and months. Of course he couldn’t know who or what Francis was, could he? “Oh, yes, Father. I uh… Have you seen the man I arrived with?”
“Not since yesterday.” He came slowly down the steps. “I’m Father Federico. You’re Francis?”
How did he know his name? That was bad, wasn’t it? They weren’t supposed to use their real names. Vitari must have told him, but when and why?
“Don’t worry.” Father Federico tapped his nose. “I’m in the business of keeping secrets.”
