Page 49 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

T wo glasses of scotch did the trick. When I returned to my room, I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning with a slight hangover –

And a palpable sense of alarm when I checked my phone and saw it was almost ten in the morning.

I reassured myself that if anything terrible had happened, someone would have banged on my door.

I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I found Fausto in considerably worse shape than me. He had changed into a new suit, but his face looked puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot as he sipped a cup of espresso.

“You’re just in time,” he said grimly. “Our assassin texted me not two minutes ago.”

He slid the phone over, and I saw an unknown number had sent him a message:

Last chance to call it off.

Fausto had texted back one word:

Proceed.

“What about the bank accounts?” I asked.

Fausto smiled. “My nephews will be paupers very soon.”

“So… what do we do now?”

“We wait.”

“Where’s Aurelio?” I asked.

“Fuck Aurelio,” he grunted.

A servant fixed us breakfast from supplies she’d picked up in Modena. I had tea and fresh fruit while Fausto ate an assortment of pastries.

I browsed on my phone while we waited. It seemed like hours.

“Does it normally take this long to kill someone?” I asked.

“It’s a big estate,” Fausto said. “I’m sure she had to get past their security measures, and then she has to wait for the perfect shot.”

Suddenly, one of the foot soldiers entered the kitchen. He looked almost frantic.

“What is it?” Fausto asked.

“Um…”

“Spit it out!” Fausto barked, then winced as his hangover flared up.

“…did you order a hit on Venice?” the foot soldier asked nervously.

Fausto stared at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

My stomach did a nauseating flip.

I knew what was coming even before the foot soldier said it.

“Our contact in the Widow’s household says she was nearly killed by masked gunmen.”

Fausto’s jaw dropped. “What?! WHEN?!”

“Twenty minutes ago, sir.”

“Is she dead?!”

“No, sir – Massimo Rosolini was there. He saved her and killed them all before they could – ”

“GOD DAMN IT!” Fausto roared.

He grimaced from his hangover, then pulled out his cell phone and called Aurelio.

He nearly started frothing at the mouth when it went straight to voicemail.

“AURELIO! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” he screamed. “CALL ME – NOW!”

The foot soldier stood at the door, unsure whether he should stay or go.

Fausto looked at him and screamed, “FIND MY SON AND brING HIM TO ME!”

“Yes sir,” the man said in a panic, then dashed out of the room.

Fausto was gnashing his teeth in rage. “I can’t believe that fucking – ”

His phone suddenly buzzed.

He looked at the screen, wild-eyed with anger –

And then broke out in a grin.

“What is it?” I asked.

“They emptied the first of my nephews’ bank accounts. We just took two million euros of their money.”

“Thank God,” I said, relieved.

“Yes,” Fausto said darkly. “If we can siphon off all their cash, and our assassin comes through, we might just survive the shitshow in Venice.”

Over the next couple of minutes, more texts came in.

Every one listed a new account that had been pilfered.

After 15 minutes, the total stood at 28.3 million euros.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Fausto grinned. “Ironic, isn’t it? My nephews paid for your fee to kill them.”

I felt a twinge of guilt and thought of Niccolo.

Fausto’s cell phone rang.

Not a text, but a call.

“Is it Aurelio?” I asked.

“No, it’s Rachel Bauer.” Fausto answered the call and held the phone to his ear. “Well?”

I knew the result by the way his face darkened.

Shit.

“I see. Was there a reason why?” he asked gruffly.

I assumed he was asking why she missed.

She said something, but Fausto’s face stayed inscrutable.

He didn’t answer for almost five seconds, but when he did, his voice was cold. “Because you wouldn’t have taken the job.”

Oh, shit.

She must have seen Lars.

“Of course I knew,” he said contemptuously.

Jesus Christ, Fausto! I thought in terror. PLEASE don’t get an assassin pissed off at us!

“What about a second attempt?” he asked.

She must have answered no because he said “Fine” in an irritated voice.

Then she must have asked a question.

“Aren’t we?” he asked coolly. After a pause, Fausto said, “Then I’m fine, too. Consider our business concluded. When you leave the car, text me the location. I’ll have someone retrieve it.”

And he hung up.

I hazarded a guess. “She missed – and she knows about Lars.”

“Yes,” Fausto confirmed angrily.

“But once we let Lars know it was her, it’ll throw him off balance,” I said, reiterating the reason Rachel had been such an excellent choice in the first place. “And if Lars is distracted, he’ll make mistakes.

“…yes,” Fausto said, coming back around to a calmer state of mind. Then he grinned wickedly. “At least we have all their money.”