Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
My shoulders slump. I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time. When Dad died, Brandon was still a teenager. So he was dealing with hormones as well as emotions. He shut me out and pushed against me the whole time we were on the run. Then, when he finally found friends at college, he acted like he was too cool to talk to me.
Knowing that he doesn’t blame me is huge. I tiptoe back to give him a kiss on the head before charging out into the hall to find my love.
CHAPTER 48
FRANCISCO
Ileave Frankie alone in my office and make my way toward the stairs. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Marlena, but somehow, that seems more honest. If I try to rehearse it or fall back on common ground, it will come off as insincere. If Frankie’s right, I need to be honest and express my feelings. I wish I had more experience in matters of the heart. That’s not something that they teach men in traditional Italian families, much less those connected to the mob.
I’m walking by the living room when Giovanni stops me.
“Hey boss, you got a minute?” my brother asks.
I look longingly at the staircase, knowing my wife is upstairs weeping. “Sure. What have you got?”
“It might be nothing,” Giovanni says. I can tell he’s excited about whatever it is, but he’s trying to cover all the bases.
“What?” I demand.
“I got someone who might have spotted Marcello at the airport,” Giovanni reports.
“Let’s go,” I say, remembering that I left my gun in the office.
I go back to fetch it, well aware that I’m walking away from the woman I love. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to talk to her when I get back, but this situation can’t wait. I hop in a car with Giovanni, Luca, and two other of my men and we race across town.
“I don’t want anyone to kill him,” I instruct my men.
“Got it,” Luca says, understanding what I mean.
I want to be the one to do it. I want to squeeze the trigger and watch the man fall. I want him to know that Don Corello is the one who took him out. He played me for a fool, and no one does that. My anger is simmering just below the surface. To all outward appearances, I’m calm, but that would be a mistake. I’m a time bomb waiting to go off.
“You take the car and drive around,” I instruct my driver. “Keep circling until I call.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver says.
He pulls up to the departure gate and lets us out, then eases his way back into the flow of traffic. The rest of us split up. I’m looking high and low in the VIP waiting area, but I don’t see any sign of the traitor. He’s not in the bathrooms or in line to check luggage. He’s not at the food court or on any of the escalators.
We reconvene near the newspaper stand, and everyone reports.
“I didn’t see him,” Giovanni says.
“I got nothing,” Luca states.
“Nothing,” my other man replies.
“We have to get into the terminals,” Giovanni suggests.
“Follow me,” I say.
One benefits of operating a notorious crime ring is that I’ve got an inside man in a lot of places. I pull out my phone, making a quick call to a friendly TSA agent. There’s no way I’m going into the terminal unarmed. And I’m not interested in spending money on a ticket to buy my way through.
“Sunny, this is Francisco,” I say.
“Yes, sir,” Sunny says on the other end of the line. I can hear him stuffing a sandwich into his mouth, and I realize I’ve caught him on break.
“We need to get through security,” I explain.
“Sure, boss,” Sunny replies. “When?”
“Now!” I demand.
The sound of hastily crinkled paper fills the line, then Sunny’s frightened voice, “Coming.”
We wait for five minutes as my man rushes back from whatever break room he was in. I watch him hurry to one of the checkpoints, where he taps the current TSA agent on the shoulder. They trade a few words, and then Sunny takes her place. The line resumes, and we approach.
We’re all armed, and there’s a security tube that we’re supposed to step into that will reveal all our hidden weapons. But Sunny takes us around the device, explaining to me that VIP passengers are exempt. He says it just loud enough that it can be overheard, and that seems to satisfy everyone.
I don’t look back as we march past the other poor slobs who are rethreading their belts and putting their shoes back on. Giovanni and Luca are grim. We split up at the other end of the security gate to search the terminals.
There are a thousand places the bastard could hide. We don’t even know what flight Marcello’s on. I take hallway A, Giovanni takes B, and Luca takes C. The other soldier with us takes E and F. I search up and down the waiting areas, the cafes, and the restrooms with no luck. I decide to go to Wing D, to start fresh.