“I’m scared I’ll fail to protect you. I’m even a little afraid to die, because I know you need me to keep you safe. The stakes are a lot higher now. Having nothing to lose gave me an edge that most guys don’t have. But now, that edge is gone.”
14
WOLFE
I gave Don Mancini a day to cool off, but we had unfinished business—not just with Francesca, but with the asshole who’d tried to take her. I kissed my woman goodbye before I drove to the winery. When I pulled up to the gate, I wasn’t sure if it would open for me, but after waiting a couple seconds, the double doors parted to allow me entry.
I pulled onto the property and approached the three-story villa that was still under renovation from the attack by Umberto Lombardi. Instead of parking my car all the way in the lot, I just left it there.
Andre and Salvatore were smoking cigars as they leaned up against the house. They both stared at me but didn’t make any kind of gesture. Their guns were tucked into the back of their jeans, but they didn’t reach for them, like the don hadn’t ordered my head on a platter—just yet.
I left the car and walked past them.
They stared at me as I passed, not saying a word.
I headed up the stairs and entered the house. Some of his other henchmen stopped me and asked me to wait by the stairs while they conferred with Don Mancini upstairs. The whole charade was pretty pointless, because we were going to talk whether he liked it or not. We could do it the easy way or the hard way, but the hard way would leave a couple people dead.
The men returned downstairs then nodded for me to head up.
Good choice.
I walked up to the third floor and approached the open doors to his office. Sunlight stretched into the hallway from his open windows, and as I approached, I heard voices from within. I recognized Elio and Leo.
I rounded the corner and stopped to look at the scene.
Don Mancini leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, and the second our eyes met, he stared me down.
I stared back.
Leo turned in the chair to look at me in the doorway. He showed no reaction.
Elio had the smuggest look on his face. Definitely an I-told-you-so vibe going on.
Don Mancini gave a slight nod and silently excused the two men.
Leo rose from the armchair first and stared me down as he came close. He stared at me until he walked behind me and headed down the hallway. The standoff with Elio was worse. He walked up to me, stopped and stared, and then took a deep breath.
I knew exactly what was coming.
He spat on me.
I sidestepped it in time, so the glob of spit meant for me sprayed into the hallway and landed on the floor.
He literally snarled at me. “Figgh’i buttana.”
I watched him walk by and into the hallway, ignoring the puddle of spit he left behind.
Don Mancini continued to regard me with quiet ferocity. He was in a charcoal-gray t-shirt and black jeans, looking physically too young to have a twenty-six-year-old daughter, but world-weary enough to have lived a lifetime. He had some ink on his arms, but not like I did, just some color here and there.
I walked inside and stopped about ten feet away, staring at him head on in the quiet office.
He regarded me with the same seething silence as the other night, like the time and space had only made his anger boil instead of simmer.
“I hoped we could have a civil conversation with cooled tempers.”
“When it comes to my daughter, my temper never cools. We both know what you did was unforgivable.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here to apologize.” An apology implied remorse, and remorse implied regret. I didn’t regret anything that had happened with Francesca.
