“I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I didn’t think about that.”
Marco leans in, voice low.
“E se lo fai ancora, motociclista, non aspetterò il permesso del Don.”
If you do it again, biker, I will not wait for the Don’s permission.
I step between them.
“Enough.”
Marco’s eyes stay on Foster.
Foster nods once, slow and serious.
“I screwed up,” he says.
Marco says nothing.
Foster sets the glass down on the nearest table.
“I thought I was testing response time. I didn’t think about what that alert would mean to you.”
“No,” Marco says coldly in English. “You didn’t. You thought to play a joke, but all we saw was ourDonand his family dead because we…once again…couldn’t save them in time.”
“Take a walk, Marco,” I order.
For a moment, I’m not sure he’ll obey.
His chest rises and falls with barely contained fury. His eyes stay locked on Foster, the promise in them sharp enough to draw blood.
With one final glare, he turns and walks out of my office.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Foster says, downing the last of his amber drink. “I put my tag in the message, but they must not have seen it.”
“It was at the end,” Nico says from the doorway.
We all turn toward him.
Unlike Marco, Nico’s anger’s quiet.
That doesn’t make it less dangerous.
“We were out the door before we finished reading the message,” he says. “Your alert said theDonhad been taken. It included his route. His vehicle. A location ping. A photo from today.”
Foster’s face tightens.
Nico steps into the room.
“You expected us to scroll to the bottom while ourDonwas possibly bleeding somewhere?”
“No,” Foster says quietly. “I didn’t think that through.”
“However,” Nico says, “you did help us with one thing.”
Foster looks at him. “What’s that?”
“You taught us our system wasn’t as impenetrable as we thought.” Nico’s jaw tightens. “We could use your help fixing that.”
