Page 89 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

Niccolo

I said earlier that everything turned into a clusterfuck.

Meeting Don Vicari fell into that category, too.

Vicari was an out-and-out asshole. He tried to bulldoze me and Valentino at every opportunity – and he succeeded most of the time. After all, he held all the cards in the negotiation.

Not only that, he was a stone-cold psychopath, just like Dario had said.

That was confirmed when he revealed why I hadn’t been able to reach Eliseo Marconi:

Because Vicari had killed him.

A don murdering his own consigliere was virtually unheard of. It implied a level of betrayal on the consigliere’s part that was unfathomable.

Of course, my uncle was one of the few examples of a consigliere murdering his don, so anything was possible…

But it was still shocking.

I couldn’t figure out if Marconi was truly a villain…

Or if Vicari was just insane.

Either way, I was terrified –

Because I’d just placed my baby brother inside the monster’s den.

Valentino was a pain in the ass, that much was true –

But he was blood. When it came down to it, I loved him.

And to turn him over to a man like Vicari…

I just prayed I hadn’t made a horrible mistake.

I feared that in my eagerness to save the family…

I might have doomed Valentino.

But I couldn’t back out of the deal.

If I had, Vicari might have killed both of us on the spot.

I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that it could all still work out –

That with Vicari as our ally, we could triumph over Fausto.

But as I left my baby brother looking shocked and abandoned, all I felt was an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Vicari’s driver was taking me back to the airport in Palermo when I got a call –

From a Rome area code.

“Hello?” I answered hopefully.

“Ciao, consigliere,” Sofia purred.

I grinned in spite of myself.

Not just because I was happy to hear from her – which I was –

But because I hoped that my plan was about to bear fruit.

“ Ciao , bella. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Well, I have even better news, then: you can SEE me if you like. I’m in Sicily, and a little bird told me you are, too.”

“Really,” I said, feigning displeasure. “Is this the same little bird who told you about Hong Kong?”

“No, I know lots of little birds.”

I doubted that. I figured there was only one.

“Care to meet up?” she asked.

“I’d love to. Where should I meet you?”

“I have a room at the Grand Taormina. How soon can you be here?”

Taormina.

The steel trap slammed closed.

“Hold on,” I said and pulled up Google Maps. After typing in the hotel name, I said, “About two hours, give or take.”

“So long?” she pouted.

“There’s a bit of business I have to attend to,” I said cagily.

“Well, don’t be too late… I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll get there as fast as I can. What room number?”

“I’ll be out on the main patio in two hours. Find me there.”

So she didn’t entirely trust me. Not enough to give me her room number, anyway.

Smart girl.

“Alright,” I agreed.

“And I’ll need you to swear that you won’t harm me or kill me, seeing as we’re back in Italy.”

Aha – there it was.

“I swear on my brothers’ lives. I’ll need to hear it from you, too.”

“I swear, too. ‘On all my dreams for the future.’”

“Alright, then. It’s a date.”

“I look forward to it. Ciao, consigliere.”

“Ciao, bellisama,” I said, and hung up the phone.

Then I told the driver, “Change of plans. I need you to take me to Catania.”

I had no intention of letting Vicari know where I was heading – which the driver would surely tell him.

Catania was a large city an hour south of Taormina. It would be easy to get a taxi from there to the hotel.

The driver shot me an irritated look. “The plane’s in Palermo.”

“Yes, well, I’m not flying back today.”

“My orders are to take you to Palermo – ”

“Where I was supposed to fly out, but I’m NOT,” I snapped. “Call your boss and clear it with him, but I’m either getting out here or in Catania. You choose.”

The driver glared at me, but he pulled out his cell.

While he made the call, I checked a couple of photographs on my phone.

I’d snapped a picture of the list of towns and foot soldiers before I’d left –

And I ran down the list until I found Taormina.

I didn’t want to say the name out loud, so I texted Dario instead of calling him.

It’s Lazaro.

It took almost 30 seconds to get the reply.

You’re sure?

I texted back, Yes. But don’t do anything final until I get back.

I paused… then added an extra note.

Although if you want to let Adriano work out some of his aggression on the fucker, be my guest.