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Vincent glanced around. Corrado was blocking the main exit of the church. There was nowhere for him to go, no way to leave unless Corrado allowed him to pass. “It’s been six months since my last confession.”
“Six months,” Corrado repeated. “I’m sure you have a bit of repenting to do then.”
Vincent scoffed. “Probably not as much as you.”
Corrado let out a laugh as he pulled his hands from his pockets. Vincent’s hair bristled when he saw the black leather gloves. It was a sight he knew well, the sight of the man at work. He was like a reaper, a malicious spirit ripping the life from men before vanishing undetected, leaving no trace of himself behind.
Corrado’s victims rarely knew what hit them. Most never even saw him as he snuck up on them in the night, firing a single shot through the base of their skull, severing their spinal cord and killing them instantly. It was neat and tidy, painless and quick. He was in and out and on to the next thing within a matter of minutes. Corrado wasn’t in the business of torture . . . unless you made him mad.
When Corrado got angry, when he took things personally, a different side of him emerged. The ugly, green monster burst forth, ripping through his calm skin, and nobody was safe from his rage when that happened. He never made a mistake, never got sloppy, but the otherwise unruffled man was no longer merciful. He would tear a man to pieces, slowly, methodically, until everything left behind was no longer recognizable.
“Did Sal send you?” Vincent asked, trying to keep his voice even.
Corrado shook his head. “I came on my own.”
Not business. Personal.
Corrado took a step forward then, tugging his gloves to make sure they were on tight, and Vincent instantly took a step away. He did it again, and again, and again, like the two of them were doing a deadly tango.
“I don’t want to believe it,” Corrado said, “but seeing you here—seeing you like this—I can’t help but wonder if it’s true.”
“It’s not how it seems,” Vincent said.
Corrado shook his head. “It never really is, is it? But that’s irrelevant, and you know it. You crossed a line, and it doesn’t matter why you did it or what you planned to do on that other side, the fact that you went over there is inexcusable. Lupo non mangia lupo. How many times did we hear your father say that when he was alive? How many times? Wolves don’t eat wolves. We don’t turn on our own.”
“You’re right,” Vincent said. “If you can’t trust your own kind, who can you trust?”
“No one, according to your son,” Corrado said. “Non fidarsi di nessuno. Did you even stop to think about how this is going to affect him? How this is already affecting him?”
Thoughts of Carmine made Vincent’s chest ache. “Is he okay?”
“Of course he’s not okay. He’ll never again be okay! It’s his job to kill you!”
Flinching from the hostility, Vincent took a few quick steps back. “You can’t let him do it.”
“I don’t plan to.” Corrado stealthily moved with him, not missing a beat.
A loud voice echoed through the cathedral then, stalling them both. Father Alberto stepped out of his office, scowling. Corrado backed up, putting some space between him and Vincent, as the priest swiftly approached. “Gentlemen, I’m not a man to judge, and I’ve never condemned you for your life choices, but there comes a point where enough is enough! You don’t bring that into the house of the Lord. This is a place of worship, of love, of acceptance. We’re always open, but only to those who check their sinning at the door.”
“You’re right.” Corrado shoved his hands back into his pockets. “This isn’t the time or the place for this.”
“And what, exactly, are you two squabbling over?” the priest asked. “You’re family!”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Vincent said. “That’s all.”
“Right, a misunderstanding,” Corrado agreed, clearing his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I should be going. I have business to handle later tonight.”
Father Alberto raised his eyebrows at him. “I hope not too late. I expect to see you planted in one of these pews tomorrow morning.”
“I wouldn’t miss your service for anything, Father,” Corrado said, looking from the priest to Vincent. “It’ll all be finished before the sun comes up.”
He turned, casually strolling toward the exit as if he had not a care in the world. Vincent and Father Alberto both watched, remaining silent until Corrado disappeared outside into the night. Vincent sighed, running his hands down his face in exasperation. Not good. Not good at all.
“Oh, Vincenzo, what have you gotten yourself into?”
“A situation with no way out,” he said quietly.
“I don’t believe that,” Father Alberto said. “There’s always a way out.”
