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“He was sick!”
I clamp a hand over my mouth, but not before my gasp rings out. Nobody seems to notice. Prince’s brows knit together, and he immediately looks at Enzo, whose face flushes a deeper red than before. “Convenient.”
“It’s the truth! He didn’t want you to know. I’m the only one he told.”
“Also convenient.”
“He knew he was gonna die anyway. I swear, he didn’t want you to know, and he didn’t want to look weak or anything, so he didn’t tell anybody. Just me. He paid me to do it all.”
Is he telling the truth? I feel worse for Enzo than I ever have since he has to be just as torn as I am. No, more. It’s not like I can’t believe an old man was sick, especially not this one. He didn’t look great, no matter how he tried to pretend he had it all together. He was imposing and well-dressed and everything, but he was also pretty thin and drawn.
It’s easy for me to look back and see that. Enzo’s a different story. This is the man who raised him we’re talking about. A man he clearly respected and revered. It can’t be easy to hear he was sick enough to pay someone to kill him.
One part of the story makes me believe it’s true. He decided to use his inevitable death as a way to boost his family’s position while eliminating an enemy. That’s the shrewd sort of guy he was. He wouldn’t get emotional or reflect on making things right before he left. He wouldn’t think back on his violent life and where he could’ve done things differently. No, he used his remaining time to plan his own murder in hopes of killing somebody else. I could live a hundred years and never understand it.
Enzo doesn’t understand it either, judging from his anger and confusion. I want to go to him. My heart’s aching for him, my arms aching to hold him, to tell him everything will be okay even if, right now, he probably doesn’t feel like it will.
I might be his wife, but it’s not my place. Not right now. Besides, I don’t want to go near him when he looks the way he does. Like he’s about to explode. And good luck to anybody who happens to be in the vicinity when he does.
He shakes himself slightly like he’s coming back to his senses. “Looks like you didn’t do a very good job with the second half of your assignment. I had to kill Alvarez myself.”
“I know.” Frankie hangs his head. Sweat drips from his hair, and blood from his chin. “I don’t know how they knew. Somehow, they figured out it was a setup. But I didn’t tell them anything. I swear to God, I didn’t tell those guys anything.”
“I believe you since I’m sure they would have killed you if they’d gotten the information they wanted.” Enzo backs away. “Stand up. Be a man. This won’t take much longer.”
“Please, man. I only did it because he told me to. He would have just had somebody else do it if I didn’t.”
“You could be right about that,” Enzo allows. “But we’ll never know, will we. Now stand the fuck up.” He’s not talking to me, but a chill runs up my spine just the same. I know what’s coming next.
From the resigned sigh Frankie lets out, so does he. He fights his way to his feet, breathing heavy and swaying slightly once he gets his balance. For a breathless moment, the men stare at each other.
Frankie lifts his chin, and Enzo nods. “You’ve done your job. Unfortunately, this was only ever going to end one way for you.” He raises his arm and aims at Frankie’s head. There’s no more begging, no more blubbering. Frankie stares down the gun, silent.
The shot rings out loud and sharp, and Frankie drops to the ground.
I let out my breath slowly, shakily taking one last look at Frankie before turning to Enzo. He doesn’t move, his hand hanging by his side, the gun gleaming in the headlights. I want to go to him so much, it hurts. But I know he would hate it and hate me for it. Whatever he’s going through, he doesn’t want me to be a part of it. Not unless he invites me in, and I doubt he would ever do that. It would mean admitting he needs help.
“Get rid of the body,” he grunts. “Alvarez, I want you to keep on ice. I might have other plans for him.” I’m not sure I want to know what that means, and I doubt he would tell me if I asked. While his men get to work, he tucks his gun away. I can breathe easier once he does. Not that I think he would ever turn it on himself, but people are capable of all kinds of things when their world shatters.
And I think his just did.
30
ENZO
I’m not certain how I thought I would feel once the whole thing was over. On the way home, with my enemies dead.
I’m not a child. I left naïveté behind a long time ago. I didn’t expect to feel elated. There was no fantasy about this being the end of anything. I never imagined a touching scene with my wife, gathering her into my arms as emotional music swelled. That kind of shit only happens in the movies, and this is all too real.
I did, however, expect answers. A sense of closure. Understanding of what happened that day, my grandfather’s last day, a day meant to be a celebration that ended in tragedy. I hoped when all was said and done, I’d be able to grasp what went on in my grandfather’s head.
I forgot there’s no understanding of what went on in his head. That attempting to understand him was always a fool’s errand.
At the moment, something bigger is on my mind, anyway. I can set my questions aside in favor of focusing on Alicia. “You’re sure you’re all right? You didn’t get hurt at all?”
Instead of smarting off the way she might have done any other time, she offers a soft, understanding sort of smile. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
That’s what she’ll never understand. There will never come a time when I don’t worry about her. Even if she were to walk out of my life, never to be seen again, not a day would pass when I wouldn’t ask myself what she’s doing, how she is, or where she is. Certain things, you don’t need to experience to know for sure. That’s one of them.
