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“I know.” He snickered. “Anyway, like I said, don’t get mad, but?—”
“Oh God, what is it?”
“It’s like you don’t trust me.”
“Is it illegal?”
Vitari considered the yacht he’d bought without Francis knowing, She was berthed in Southampton marina, waiting for their arrival. He’d kept it from Francis as a surprise. They weren’t going back to Italy on a plane. But that wasn’t the problem. The yacht itself may have been purchased with some money he’d hidden away, money that may or may not have been earned from criminal activity. Enough money to set them up for a long life together. “It’s not legal.”
“You know that’s the definition of illegal.”
“Fine then, it’s not bad.”
Francis leveled him under his judgmental priestly glare that demanded he confess all his sins immediately.
“It’s not a sin in the Bible,” Vitari added. Although, everything they’d be doing between the sheets would be.
Francis huffed but his grin stayed anyway. “Whatever it is, I trust you.”
“You’re goin’ to love it.”
“Will we need a gun?”
Vitari had thought of that and stashed a gun along with handcuffs in the yacht’s bedside drawer for… emergencies. He smiled, changed the car’s gears down, and pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor. “We always need a gun, Padre.”
