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“Suit yourselves.” He hands me a glass. “Please, sit.”
I sit, and my two guys stand behind me. Bernardo eyes them for a moment, still smiling, and sits with his back to the door.
“So, Bernardo, tell me what you need from the Bramantes.”
“Protection,” he answers easily.
“From who?” I ask.
“Zachary Canvani.”
“How much longer?” I ask as I stare out the window at the dark mountains off in the distance.
“About thirty minutes, boss,” Antonio answers.
I was relieved to hear he didn’t have permanent damage courtesy of my wife, and even more glad when he said he was ready to come back. Part of me thought he’d skip town. I would have let him.
I pull out my phone to see if I have any new emails. The only thing I hate worse than flying is driving. It’s cramped, boring, and the temperature is never right.
There are no new emails, so I shove my phone into my jacket pocket, trying to shake my annoyance with the day. I have no reason to be in a bad mood; I just am. I’m tired and stressed, and it’s weighing on me. I haven’t spoken with Rafael and have no idea when he plans to return. Maybe he’s the one planning to skip town?
The air in the car shifts, and tension coats my skin. I focus my eyes and look at Antonio, who is staring into the rear-view mirror with a frown.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Car’s been on our tail for a while.”
I look over my shoulder at the black SUV behind us. The windows are too tinted to see inside, but they are close.
“How long?”
“Eleven point six miles.”
Antonio’s attention to detail is one of the things I appreciate about him most.
“Try to lose them. See what happens.”
“You got your seatbelt on?” he asks with a smirk.
I roll my eyes.
Antonio slams on the gas and swerves into the other lane, missing a red caravan by an inch. They honk at us. The black SUV speeds up too. Antonio weaves in and out of a few cars, and I lose sight of the black car for a moment or two, but then they’re back.
“Definitely tailing us,” I comment, huffing out a breath.
This is the last thing I need to deal with right now.
Antonio does his best to lose them, but their driver is skilled, and they catch up to us no matter what we do. The sun is almost completely down and maybe we’ll have some luck losing them in the dark.
“You got the license plate yet?” I ask.
“Searching it now,” Rocco says, staring down at his phone. After a moment, he holds it over to show me.
“Motherfucker,” I growl.
“What is it?” Antonio asks.
“Canvani,” I spit out, running a hand through my hair.
