Page 111 of Dark Breaker

Perfect.

I fold it up and shove it into my pocket.

Before I leave, I head to Carlo’s room and grab the picture of the beach cabin so that I have a reference, then I head back downstairs and rejoin my driver.

“Any cops show up?” I ask.

“Nope.” Cateno nods at the portrait of the cabin. “What’s that?”

“Our destination,” I reply. “We head to San Vito Lo Capo.”

He furrows his brow a moment, then nods. “San Vito Lo Capo it is.”

On the way I call Angela. “This is only a hunch, but I think Carlo has taken her to a beach house in San Vito Lo Capo.”

“Do you have an address?” she asks.

I read her the address on the land title document in case her family, or the Morettis, might have some people nearby.

“Do you have anyone close?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “You’re heading there now?”

“Yes,” I reply. “It’s going to take an hour and a half.”

I glance at the speedometer. Cateno’s going 50 km/h over the speed limit.

“Maybe an hour,” I correct.

“Do you need backup?” she asks.

“I have someone with me,” I tell her. “And I intend to call some of my other people to join me. But I’ll probably get their first.” Which suits me: if Rosa is there, I don’t need some henchman fucking up and getting her killed.

“I’ll call my father and Massimo’s other brothers,” she replies. “They’ll want to send men your way as well, if not come in person.”

I nod. Rosaistheir sister, after all.

“I’ll keep you updated,” I tell her.

“In bocca al lupo, Fabio,” she replies. Into the wolf’s mouth.

I nod grimly. “Crepi il lupo.” May the wolf die.

I disconnect and make calls to some of my own men next, those who are stationed closest to the westbound highway that leads to San Vito Lo Capo, and order them to drop everything and head to the address on the land title. They all agree to rendezvous with me at the site, and to wait for me if they arrive before I do.

If I get there early, on the other hand, I don’t plan on waiting.

The traffic is light today. It’s the middle of the week—most people head out of town during the weekend. So the drive is uneventful: even though Cateno travels at two hundred kilometers per hour for most of the trip, we don’t run into any police.

When we reach San Vito Lo Capo we’re forced to travel at slower speeds. The address we’re looking for is located on the outskirts, next to several similarly styled cabins. When we reach the designated location, I glance at the photo to confirm that the log cabin is the right one. The two are indeed identical.

The driveway is empty save for an old Alfa Romeo. My men wouldn’t drive something so dated—we’re the first ones here.

“Keep going,” I order Cateno.

We continue on past. When we’ve traveled two villas down I tell him to park.

I get out, drawing my pistol. Cateno does the same across from me.