“Soon. This week. Someone seems to be in a hurry.”
“Yes, I’m certain they are.”
“But are you aware of the location of the wedding?” she asked.
“No, but please tell me so I can make additional arrangements.”
When she did, a series of emotions tickled my inner core, building to a level that left a buzzing sound in my ears. “I thought you’d want to know right away.”
“You thought right. You’re certain of the information?”
“Absolutely. From what I can tell, the wedding is to be very soon. Does that mean you’re going to stop it?”
“Not at all. But one of the players will change.”
“Please tell me you’ll invite me to the fabulous occasion.”
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away. Expect a gift in return for your information.”
“You were always so generous. Just like your father.”
My father. He’d been more on my mind lately. Especially since Sergei, his attorney had tried to get me to take the reading of his will seriously. Perhaps I should have done so. Now I’d make the time.
With another piece of information in place, I made another call, uncertain whether the timing was right. Given Moscow was eight hours ahead, it was a little after midnight in New York.
“My fucking God,” Dimitri breathed, choking on purpose like he used to do when we were kids. “The rumor is true.”
“At least I know the rumor mills are working. I’m alive.”
“Let me guess, you’re not calling to bring me up to date on your extensive trip to hell and back.”
Hearing his voice tugged at a few unwanted heartstrings. “Not this time. As you might imagine, I need this conversation kept private. There are any number of people who still want me dead.”
“That I can understand,” he said, laughing. “What do you need?”
“I need you to find someone for me. Dante Marichetti.”
“O-kay. Why?”
“Because he’s important to someone, a woman I care about.” And because the man could be useful. I still had no intentions of playing my last hand. “I have a phone number that might prove of use.”
“Alright. What’s the woman’s name?”
“Rafaela Marichetti.”
Dimitri exhaled. “Who is she to you?”
“Soon to be my wife. If you find him, I want you to bring him to a destination I’ll provide in a subsequent email. Bring him yourself.”
“Whoa. What is going on?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but let me ask you a question. Have you had any issues lately?”
“Yeah, some. Why? Between the other Russian Bratva and the Armenians, they’re all a pain in the ass.”
“And the Italians?”
He laughed. “Maybe we should talk.”
