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“Just like her mother,” Lorenzo grunted. “She calls it women’s intuition. I call it keen powers of observation. This can’t get out. Deal with Alan Graham, but quietly, and see what else Roland was up to behind my back and who else knows about it. But dig discreetly.”
“It just occurred to me,” Alfredo said thoughtfully, “Bianca told me more than once Brian Mancini is bad news. Maybe we should keep an eye on him.”
“Do it, and scour into his finances. See what’s what.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Alfredo declared, rising to his feet. “What’s the latest on Mike’s condition?”
“He might have some wild dreams from time to time, but he’ll make a full recovery.”
“That’s good news.”
“Yeah, now go, and when Mike’s wife arrives, bring her straight here.”
* * *
Marianne Coleman, Mike’s long suffering wife, had been desperately worried about her husband’s erratic behavior and unexplained absences. When she received a call from Alfredo Albertini saying Mike had been admitted to a private psychiatric facility and Lorenzo wanted to see her, she’d been terrified.
She’d been picked up by a young man in a black Mercedes with tinted windows. He drove her inside the walled compound and she was met at the front door by Alfredo Albertini. As he’d escorted her down a wide hallway she’d been quaking with fear, but when she’d walked into the large, wood-paneled office, the Mafia kingpin had greeted her with open arms and a smile.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he promised, guiding her to a chair. “Your husband is a hero and I’ll make sure he receives the care he needs. I can’t go into details, but he would have saved my daughter’s life if I hadn’t found out what was happening in time. You should be very proud of him.”
“Thank you, Mr. Albertini,” she replied, shocked but greatly relieved. “I couldn’t have asked for a more devoted husband and father, then suddenly, everything changed. Can you tell me what happened to him?”
“He was an innocent victim, and even though he was suffering through psychotic episodes, his good heart prevailed,” Lorenzo said solemnly, placing a thick envelope on the desk in front of her. “That should see you through until he returns to work, and rest assured, he’ll always have a special place with my family. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. My door will always be open.”
Relieved tears spilling from her eyes, she nervously stared at the package.
“It won’t bite,” Lorenzo said with a chuckle, “and it’s the least I can do. Please take it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Albertini,” she managed, picking it up and dropping it in her handbag. “I really am very grateful. Things haven’t been easy.”
“I’m sure, but it’s over now. In a few weeks Mike will be home and you can put this all behind you. Alfredo will show you out, and remember, anything, anytime, you just get in touch.”
* * *
Five months later
Though Bianca was in culinary school, she often worked with Nick in the evenings. On several occasions her photographic memory had proven invaluable, and she had a knack for eliciting information from people. Her busy life was a far cry from the one she lived in Vegas, and she loved every minute. Now with Christmas around the corner, the school had closed for the holidays, Nick’s business was winding down, and she was looking forward to relaxing and catching up with Sammy.
Though they spoke often, she’d only seen him a few times. He had fallen in love with a bodybuilder he’d met at Muscle Beach, and the happy pair had moved into a trendy condo in Santa Monica. Between her classes and working for Nick, and Sammy busy with his new life, it had been tough for the two of them to get together.
Arriving home, ready for a long hot bath and a glass of wine, she drove her BMW into the garage, walked inside, and wearily climbed the stairs. But as she entered the bedroom, she found Cindy waiting with a suitcase.
“Cindy! What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“Surprise!” Cindy exclaimed. “You have fifteen minutes to take a shower and get changed before Nick arrives to pick you up.”
“But—”
“Don’t ask, I know nothing,” Cindy said with a grin, holding up her hands in surrender. “He didn’t trust me to keep the secret. Can you believe it?”
“Yeah, I can,” Bianca said with a knowing smile. “I have a gift for getting people to talk.”
* * *
Following the town car as it rolled to a stop in front of his home, Nick drove his Porsche into the garage, and parked it next to Bianca’s BMW. Grinning excitedly, he hurried into the house and found Bianca waiting in the living room with the suitcase beside her.
“Hey, you!” she declared, moving quickly up to hug him. “Where are we going and why?”
