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“Wait.” Vitari flung up his hands. “Fuck. Stop. You called my father when we were in the safe house?”
His voice was thin, that same kind of thin he got when he was trying very hard not to explode. Francis’s heart contracted and he puffed a soft, nervous laugh. “It’s not a problem. It’s a good thing.”
Vitari smiled, almost laughed too, but the sinking feeling in Francis’s gut turned into a roller-coaster whoosh. “How is calling my father, the man I betrayed, the fuckin’ Mafia don who wants to kill me, a good fucking thing, Francis?”
“All right, you’re angry.” Vitari would listen, once he’d gotten over the shock. Francis just needed to explain. “I just said that maybe you hadn’t known all the facts when you went to Sasha, and that he shouldn’t be so hard on you, that you’d made a mistake.”
Vitari jerked his chin up. “You fucking what?”
“It’s true. You helped Sasha, but you didn’t know?—”
Vitari shot from the bed, thrust his hands into his hair, and paced, naked in the ambient light pouring in through the cabin’s windows. “Fuck! You told my father I went to Sasha. Are you fuckin’ with me right, now? Because I don’t understand why you’d do that.”
When he put it like that, it did, admittedly, sound terrible. “He had a right to know.”
Vitari choked on a shallow laugh. “How the… How…” He paced harder and cast a scathing glare toward Francis.
Francis turned his hand over, and there was the circular scar. Giancarlo was, without doubt, a horrible person, but Francis didn’t believe he’d hurt Vitari. After everything Charles Montague had said, it almost seemed as though Giancarlo had been trying to protect Vitari. He’d saved Vitari from Stanmore. He’d gotten him out. That meant something. It meant he cared about his son.
“Wait, wait…” Vitari licked his lips and breathed. “Shit, you called him from Panama?”
“Yes, just briefly?—”
“Fuck!” Vitari braced a hand over his face and muttered something in Italian. “Where’s your phone now?” he asked, voice flat, cold, hard.
Francis glanced around the room for his trousers. “There. In the pocket. I only called him once?—”
“Once is all it takes—” Vitari’s thin laugh trailed off. “Giancarlo is a sly bastard. He plays the old man act, like he doesn’t use phones, but he’s a goddamned tech-savvy sonofabitch.” Vitari scooped up the pants, pulled out the phone, and stared at it resting in his hand.
Francis pulled his knees to his chest, hating how guilt made him sick. “I thought?—”
“Sweet fuck, Francis.” He dragged his hand down his face. “How are you so fucking smart and stupid?”
Francis’s insides curdled. Nausea wet his mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“Fuck.” Vitari paced again. “It’s my fault, I should have told you to ditch your phone in England. With everything that happened, I didn’t think. What’s wrong? My father knows we’re in Central America. You’ve had this phone on you this whole time, which means he knew we were in San Blas yesterday. The only reason he doesn’t know we’re here, right now, is there’s no signal out here. Fuck!” Vitari flung open the bedroom door and stormed out.
Francis grabbed his trousers, tugged them on, and stumbled after Vitari. He hadn’t known phones could be tracked from a call. He hadn’t meant to hurt Vitari. If he’d listen… let him explain…
He found him on deck in time to see Vitari pitch the phone into the ocean.
“Wait!” He stopped at the edge of the deck beside Vitari and stared at the waves. “That was my phone.”
Vitari faced him, and there was nothing in his eyes but cold, hard ice. “You lied to me for weeks.”
“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t say anything?—”
“Don’t give me that shit. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“But it’s good, isn’t it? It means he knows the truth, and he doesn’t want you dead. He might actually just want you back, he might listen to us?—”
“Listen?” Vitari laughed again and marched back inside. “He’s the same man who burned your hand, Francis. He fucking threatened to cut off my tongue if I sucked dick again. When I was sixteen, he put a gun in my hand and told me to kill some asshole who had wronged him or shoot myself if I couldn’t do it. That was my choice. What do you think he’s going to do now he knows we’ve been living together in Panama and stealing his guns after I betrayed him? You think he’s going to welcome me back with open arms or hang me by my balls from a bridge?” Vitari shook his head. “The fuck, Francis!? I can’t—” He cut himself off and sighed. “Jesus. I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“I think you’re underestimating your father. I’m not saying he’s?—”
Vitari dropped his hands. “You don’t fucking know him!” he shouted.
Francis blinked. “You’re wrong, Vitari. I’m sorry, but you’re not seeing things clearly. He wants Sasha destroyed. He got you out of Stanmore, remember? All the threats, all the posturing, it’s just his way of trying to protect you.”
