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I raise grateful eyes to him. “You brought Cielo!”
Using her feline intuition, Cielo tentatively steps on my leg. At my wince, she backs off and woefully glances at her owner. Tácito picks her up and lays her torso on my lap so her weight is more evenly distributed and I can manage holding her. She curls her body into a more comfortable position and rubs her head against my torso.
I take the hint and begin petting her, which she rewards with loud purring. The sound of a zipper alerts me to more action about to take place.
Tácito hands me a tablet. “It can stream directly to the TV. Buy any show, movie, or book you want.”
“Is this your way of bribing me into being a model patient?”
“Is it working?”
“No idea. You came after Threats and Intimidation made his appearance and made me promise to follow his rules.”
“If his tactics work, I won’t complain.”
“Tácito!”
“Cálmate. At least while you heal you’ll have company and something to distract yourself.” He turns to include Hilde, who has stood respectfully quiet during our talk, but Tácito keeps me in his sights. “She hasn’t done anything to make you rethink working for us, has she?”
“Not at all,” Hilde signs.
“I can’t. Rule number three,” I grumble.
My response causes Tácito to smile, which causes me to melt a little inside. I’ve never been able to stay mad when he is around. I hate that I can’t control my body around him or Valentino. Hilde and the little munchkin cat are poor barriers.
With God knows how long my recovery will last, one truth blares at me: I’m in deep shit.
CHAPTER THREE
Tácito
Soft carpeting muffles my steps as I approach closed double doors. I step into Valentino’s study without knocking. I’m one of the few he’s granted such liberties. He stares out the window. Deep furrows on his brow mark his intense concentration. I take the seat in front of his desk and wait for him to notice my presence. In the stillness, I study him.
Our history continues to amaze me. Sloane, Valentino, and I shouldn’t make sense. We wouldn’t, if not for Valentino. I doubt he knows that he is the glue that has kept our friendship strong.
From our first meeting, he took one look at me in my khaki pants, button-down shirt and vest and decided to be my shield. I was seven in a rough neighborhood with kids who never liked that I dressed so differently than they did. To this day, I don’t understand how the people in my neighborhood accepted my deafness with no issue but tore my ass up for the clothes I wore. Knowing that they attributed my wardrobe to some internal superiority that I never had doesn’t make up for the bruises, torn clothes, and death threats.
Like I had a choice in what I wore. My parents believed dressing for success started the moment I exited the womb. Even my onesies had glue-on ties. They banked on my future success to uplift the family and move us out of Springfield. I didn’t know what my personal style was until I started making my own money and buying my clothes.
I was able to grow into my own relatively unscathed because of Valentino. In a neighborhood where my deafness was a liability, he promised to be my gunshot detector so I’d know when to duck. Back then, Valentino was the positive influence Sloane and I needed.
Then Giulio appeared. He destroyed Valentino’s light and easy smile, and is responsible for Sloane taking up Valentino’s mantle. Giulio is the reason I oftentimes find my best friend alone with thoughts that are never good and are borderline unhealthy. If not for the power my friend’s father wields, I would find a way to free Valentino from that man’s poison.
Valentino finally shifts in his chair, the first sign that he is becoming aware of his surroundings. My wait is about to end.
He turns to me. “I have to go out of town for a short while. Will you—”
“You don’t have to ask. When not at the hospital, I’ll be here. I live here, too, remember?”
He nods, but his unfocused stare tells me something else is bothering him.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s something fishy about Sloane’s story. Either she isn’t telling us everything or she has an enemy intent on killing her.”
I replay the conversation between Sloane and Valentino when she woke, but I recall nothing that would indicate she was hiding anything. I know when she wants to hide. Hell, I’ve colluded with her to hide shit from Valentino for years. Between the two of us, I’m more likely to pick up on her lies than Valentino.
“What makes you think there’s more going on?” I settle on the desk beside him.
