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“My lawyer is talking with the cops, working out what to charge him with. He didn’t technically breach the restraining order here because he didn’t get inside. Rome is outside their jurisdiction, but we’re working on it. Until he’s safely locked away, I don’t want either of you staying here. It’s not safe.”
I get to my feet. “Ursula, pack whatever you need for a couple of days at a hotel. A friend of mine will drive you there when you’re ready. Bex, you get packing, and I don’t want any more arguing. I will not let you remain here in danger. I promised I would deal with Oswald for you, and I’m not a man who breaks promises.”
She looks like she might argue, but then she turns and walks into her bedroom. I dig out my cell phone and text Toby.
She fell for it.
Good. I’ll be outside ready.
So what if I’m lying? My father always taught me the ends justify the means. I know where Oswald is. I’ve got his shitty little house watched day and night. He’s not getting near her without me knowing about it. The only reason he’s still alive is because I could do without any heat on me. At the same time, I’m this close to taking control of the entire famiglia.
Once I’m in charge, his lights go out. That way, Bex can sleep at night without worrying, no matter what happens between us.
My thoughts are interrupted by her emerging from her bedroom with the same suitcase she had in Rome. “One night,” she says, sounding suspicious. “Then I go to the hotel with Ursula, got it?”
“Unless you like Alicia.”
“We’ll see about that.”
19
Hunter
* * *
“This is your house?” she asks as the car stops.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m surprised you call it a house.”
“What would you call it?”
“I don’t know. A mansion. A castle. A fucking palace.”
“It’s a roof over my head. It’s a house.”
“Similarly, the Atlantic Ocean is a pool of water. How many bedrooms are there?”
“I’m not sure. Twenty or so.”
“Twenty or so? Well, why would you know? I mean, who counts past a dozen, anyway?”
Jeremy is waiting for us at the top of the steps. He nods my way as we make our way up to him. We stop in front of him. “Mr. Lombardi,” he says with a smile. “I have prepared the guest suite as you requested. Will there be anything else this evening?”
“Bex, this is Jeremy. Anything you need, you just ask him.”
“Know any good jokes, Jeremy?” she asks.
He wrinkles his brow. “A rabbit walks into a synagogue and says, whoops, I think I’m a typo.”
“Not bad. I always thought a priest and a rabbit go to give blood, and they ask what blood type they are, and the rabbit says I’m a type 0.”
“I like your version.” He smiles. “Could I fetch you a drink before I retire?”
“But you seem so young.”
“Retire for the evening.”
