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If this was the last thing he did, it would be worth it.
“Vitari Angelini!” Little Toni bellowed. “Face me by choice, boy, or I will drag you out of that restroom and gut you in front of all these fine people.”
Vitari held his breath. He hadn’t expected it to be Toni. Sasha, yes. But the Russian was too clever for public showdowns. No, this was personal. But he hadn’t thought Toni would take this public either? Shit. Then the Battaglia really had turned on him.
“You killed my fucking son!”
Vitari swallowed. “Fuck.” Blood for blood, justice in vengeance. That was the Battaglia way.
Toni was going to kill him, had probably always wanted to. But Giancarlo had stood in his way. Giancarlo was gone now. Vitari was on his own, and Toni needed to kill all his secrets, as well as avenge Sal.
Vitari gripped the door handle, gun raised in his right hand. “Grazie di tutto, Francis, perdonami, amore mio.” He opened the door and walked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Francis
Francis woke wedged in the chair, his body stiff and aching from the fight with Sal.
Father Davis stood at the window, ever the sentinel. It was still dark outside. Francis hadn’t been asleep for long. He searched for Vitari in the room, then noticed the gun was missing from the table.
“Where’s Vitari?” he croaked, stretching his legs out.
“I told him it was bad idea—” the American began.
Oh no. Francis planted his feet, wincing around bruises. “Where’s Vitari, Riley?”
“He said he’d be back soon.”
“Back soon?” His panicked heart pounded harder. “Back from where?”
“I don’t… He didn’t say. He took my sweater though.”
The sweater wasn’t all he’d taken. “And the gun.”
“Yeah, he did take that too.”
“He took the gun…” Francis repeated, now his mind was catching up with reality. That was bad. Very bad. Vitari had taken the gun because he thought he’d need it, and he hadn’t woken Francis because he’d known Francis would stop him. “Oh no, no, no.”
He should have known Vitari would do something outrageous, something stupid, something like try to save them. Alone.
Sirens sounded somewhere outside. Monte Carlo was a large city, and they weren’t in the best parts of it. Sirens weren’t unusual.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Father Davis glanced at the window, then back at Francis.
“It’s not nothing.” Francis clutched at his head, briefly dizzy. He’d gone from sleepy to terrified in a heartbeat. Vitari… He was in trouble. In the last forty-eight hours, Vitari had lost everything. His father, his home, his best friend, his life in the Battaglia. It had pushed him near the edge of desperation.
What had he done?
Francis hurried for the door.
“Where are you going?” Davis asked.
“To find him.”
“Do you know where he is?” Riley followed him into the hall.
“Follow the sirens.” He hurried down the stairs and out of the hotel door, into the humid night air.
