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In seconds I had a view of the closet. Muriella zeroed in on the tape player and my stomach sank. “That’s where it was. Will you check that box up there?”
“This one?” She pointed to the box of cassette tapes.
“Yeah.” Maybe he’d put it back in there.
M lifted the lid, sifted through the contents, and then let me see inside. No folder.
“I don’t see anything…except my old Duran Duran tape.” She picked it up and palmed it.
“Thanks for looking.” I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment.
Once we ended our call, I berated myself for not taking a better look at that report when I had the chance. I couldn’t let go of the feeling it had something to do with Daniel’s behavior, if only I could figure out what.
I sat up straight on the sofa, suddenly getting an idea about where to start.
“It’s today, isn’t it?”I said, walking into Daniel’s study.
He was sitting in his chair with his back to the desk, staring out the window, brooding. I stepped in front of him, blocking his view. Irritated, he refused to verbally acknowledge my question.
“Your father died on this date. Or it was the last time you saw him. I haven’t determined which.”
Daniel’s furious eyes burned into me, but I didn’t look away. Every year on July 23, he got into this mood that lasted all day. He was never what you’d call happy-go-lucky, but on this date, he was dark. He became unreachable, sinking so far inside himself that sometimes I wondered if I could get him out. But he was always back the next day.
He snorted and shook his head. “You’re fearless, you know that? And too fucking smart for your own good.”
“Fearless, huh?” I straddled his legs and sat on his thighs, facing him. “If that were the case, I’d have brought it up when I figured it out two years ago. I’ve let you get away with shouldering this on your own for too long. I can’t stand to see you hurting.”
“I’m not hurting,” he lashed out verbally, reaching for me at the same time. His arms went around me, sliding us closer together. I challenged him with a look, but he stubbornly set his jaw. Well, I could be stubborn too.
“We’ve been together almost five years. When are you going to realize you don’t have to bear the burden for everything yourself?”
“Right after you do,” he shot back.
“Daniel, I dump everything on you.”
“Bullshit. You carry your own shit and everybody else’s too. You’re like a damn pack mule.”
“Well, I hope I look better than one.” He wasn’t amused. Today was a day when a smile was a hard-earned reward. Little quips wouldn’t cut it. “Let me tell you what a real fucking hardship my life is. I spend every day with a man I love more than life itself. We have our health and happiness. We can go where we want, do anything we please. My family lives basically under one roof, and I have my two best friends with me always. What a load to carry,” I finished sarcastically. He was unmoved, so deep in his anger he couldn’t see past it.
“Vivian,” he said warily, knowing I would not let him off the hook. “You’re not going to intimidate me into talking.”
“I’m not trying to, D. I just want to help you get this day back. I know you don’t want him to have it.” I searched his face and slid my hands up to his shoulders. “Don’t let him be the thing between us.”
His jaw worked, and he got angrier before he calmed. “He sold me out twenty-five years ago today. Correction—just plain sold me. My father stole from a man named Francesco Angelone and got himself out of that by offering him me for a lifetime of servitude to his family. Motherfucker never paid his own debts. Someone else always took the fall. A father is supposed to protect his son, not throw him to the wolves!” Daniel was shouting by the time he finished, like the words had been ripped from his soul.
I cupped his cheek, but his gaze remained hard. “I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it wasn’t enough.
He glared at me, but continued, “Angelone made a deal with me. It was rumored that the head of a rival organization,” he put the last word in air quotes, “had a black book that contained all the rival’s business dealings. If I could get it for him, I’d be free. How the hell was a fifteen-year-old kid supposed to get this phantom black book?”
“Was it real?”
He sniffed bitterly. “Angelone gave me six months to figure that out. I wracked my brain for two weeks before I decided, fuck it. I’d been watching Donato Salvatore the entire time, learning everything I could about him.Every Tuesday night at eight o’clock, he went to the same restaurant and stayed an hour and twenty minutes before he left.”
The tone of his voice was lightening, like a weight was lifting off him. His eyes were clearer, and I wasn’t having to pull the vault door open; he was pushing it open so I could see inside.
“What did you do?” I asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
“When you get desperate, you either curl up in a ball and hide or you face things head on with guns blazing. So I went into the restaurant and walked right up to his table. If I thought Francesco Angelone was scary, Donato Salvatore was terrifying. He was sitting at a booth in the back, eating pasta all alone and reading the paper, but surrounded by bodyguards. The first time we looked at each other, I knew in that instant the man would save me, or he’d kill me.
