◆ New Allies ◆
◆ MILES ◆
"She looks knackered. Stressed."
Well, "stressed" would be downplaying it, considering the things Mamma Eleana went through. For someone who'd been married to that sonuvabitch she called her husband for decades, it's impressive she's still sane.
"Does she know? The things I told you and Ricchar?"
"She knows enough." I glanced at Enzo as we approached the outdoor table facing my mother's beloved garden. "Why?"
"Just asking," he murmured amid a shrug. He hiked up the sleeves of his dark button-down and watched Mamma from afar.
She wasn't pleasantly surprised upon seeing Enzo on her doorstep, but now she's gladly cooking lunch for us in the spacious kitchen. Her idea of a distraction...apart from Enzo showing up today for a private one-on-one I scheduled.
The large bulletproof windows and the nice weather gave us a clear view of the kitchen, including the dining area where the maid prepped the plates and cutlery. Mamma hadn't left the house since I got here.
I stayed just to keep her company. To make sure she's safe. I told her to stay in one of our hotels so she wouldn't have to worry about seeing Pappa again, but she just wouldn't leave the house. "I have tons to do. You know I can't just leave my work on someone else's desk," Mamma reasoned the other night.
Her wavy hair stayed tucked in a loose bun while she stood beside the stove. A wrinkled collared blouse matched her jeans that also needed some ironing, but her current mood was an improvement from her state of mind the other day. A great improvement, in fact.
"You told her? Or Ricchar talked to her about it?"
"About?" I sighed.
"What Leo's done to those poor girls." Enzo dropped his gaze and hunched over, the look on his tan face showing worry and a bit of shame.
"I may've mentioned it the other night." I sat on the chair opposite his, the sun hurting my eyes and face, reminding me of the time.
He showed up a day late after I texted him and invited him to come over. Maybe work or some personal matters took over his schedule. Or he went on a date last night.
I didn't really give a shit. What we should discuss now also required urgent attention, but I wouldn't be cross if he didn't show up today. Most likely we're on the DEA's longass Persons Of Interest list. These days, Enzo should know better than to be seen hanging out with me. Or anyone from my family.
"You told her what we're up to?" He looked away. He put down his glass of red wine on the table.
"Spared her the details."
"Oh."
"She's juggling two jobs," I muttered.
Now Mamma looked busy chopping onions on the counter. She's ignoring us and wearing her headset, busy on the phone with her executive assistant.
"Luxoria, and making sure SF Shipping doesn't fall apart just yet."
"Sounds exhausting."
Well, she's a workaholic like her philandering husband. I would've included looking after him as a priority among her list of responsibilities. But that scum's running for his life now—his hopelessly self-serving life. And he'd better not show his face around here again.
The upside: him being gone's one burden off my mother's shoulders. "She was sleeping next to a loaded gun when I got here."
"What?" Enzo's eyes widened. He stared at me like it was the craziest thing he'd heard all week. "Why?"
"We all thought Pappa's missing. Then he dropped by. Just grabbed his stuff. Left her a souvenir, though." A glaring black eye and some bruises on her arms, which my mother had been expertly covering up with makeup and long sleeves.
"He grabbed clothes? A go bag?" Enzo squinted at me.
"Among other things," I sighed.
"Where is he now?"
"Fuck if I know."
"He just bolted?" Enzo scoffed and shook his head weakly when I shrugged.
"She said he ran off with his new whore." I sat back and lit a cigarette.
"Shit." Enzo cleared his throat. "Quick. And sneaky."
"Even Nicco can't trace his phone."
"So he found out?" Enzo leaned closer, brows almost knitted together. "Stefano knows everything we're planning?"
"Maybe." I took a drag and glanced around the quiet garden.
Colorful orchids and rose bushes surrounded the tall concrete fences and trees. The warm, sunny weather was a stark contrast to the shitstorm we're in now. But what's new...
My father bought this 18,000 square-foot property for Mamma as an anniversary gift years ago. Now that he's scared shitless of getting busted, he just abandoned everything like unwanted disposables. Or he's just lying low for the time being.
Wherever he's hiding now with that home-wrecking whore, he'd better pray I wouldn't find him. "Nicco didn't tell him much." I checked my phone while Enzo blankly stared at his wine glass, seeming lost in his own thoughts. "Don't worry 'bout him. I'll chop off his balls myself if he fucks us over."
"I'm seriously hoping you won't have to," Enzo murmured with a fleeting half-grin.
I didn't blame him that he didn't trust Niccolo yet. Like Ricchar. But we didn't have any choice at the moment. And Nicco's the only good enough on-call hacker slash spy we knew who hated those greedy Escobar wannabes as much as I did. "We met up with a guy from Interpol HQ. Cut a deal with him."
"When? You flew to France?"
"Last week. Nicco handed him the goods. Audio. Videos. Plus the photos and clips you gave Charr."
"Sounds serious."
"Can't trust anyone here."
Enzo scoffed and took a sip of his wine. "I should know."
"Where's your brother?"
"No idea. Probably busy looking around again for his girlfriend. Well, ex now."
"That Korean girl?"
"Half-Korean." Enzo itched his brow, pouting at something on the table. "Hey. About the kids..."
Kids. He meant the trafficking victims we saved just weeks ago—thanks to Nicco's efforts and disturbed conscience. I sat still and stared at Enzo, waiting for another question, quite convinced by the concern in his hushed voice. "Yeah? Any news?"
"I talked to Rafa again. Their team's already made arrangements. 35 are staying in their new shelters now. The last fundraiser wasn't a bust."
"Great." I sat back, feigning a friendlier tone. "Say thanks for me."
His best friend's folks, the Valtieris, ran a charity organization for refugees and homeless people, a well-known foundation which we thought would be able to help the victims best, the earliest possible. Since I'd be receiving my inheritance regardless of whether or not my father turned up dead tomorrow or anytime soon, I promised Enzo that I'd help him with the money. The donations.
Ricchar and I already chipped in for the rehab and therapy expenses for all the victims: mostly young women and troubled teens. The money should also help ensure their safe relocation. Most of them were homeless foreigners.
"Just don't tell anyone else I snitched on my own blood." Enzo sighed loudly, then drank the rest of his wine in one gulp. "Or I might go missing this weekend after another 'boating accident'," he drawled with a frown.
"I bet." I almost grinned at the certainty and loathing in his words. Well, he did rat out his own brother. Then their uncle, Ignazio Tomassini. Ricchar and I knew enough details to help prosecute those two nutjobs.
Soon. We shouldn't rush it. No one else needed to know the specifics for now. And I could keep a secret. Unless the cops told me to cough up everything I knew.
I looked at Enzo again.
Guilty by association. Clearly he's terrified of going to prison for his family's crimes. Or worse: getting tortured and killed by his own clan of filthy rich mob bosses.
"Lie low for now. Buy a beachfront property in the tropics or something." I chuckled and took another drag.
While touching the red roses beside his chair, Enzo sat back with his brows still scrunched. "I'm moving to New York."
New York? "When?"
"Don't know yet." He rubbed his palm against his stubble. Another scowl wrinkled his dark brows, his crow's feet showing. "Soon, I hope."
He probably thought moving to New York and leaving behind his family here would keep him alive and out of prison for another few years. Or he wanted to focus on his new business in New York, besides Mykaela.
Well, it's not like I could stop him from going after his goals. And she'd be safer from her menace of a father with Enzo by her side every day. He's also the kind of guy her mother would want Kel to marry.
Financially stable. Well-educated. Nice and charming. Got his shit together. Et cetera...
I was none of those. Regrettably. "Good luck," I muttered while staring at Mamma from where we sat.
Still busy making us lunch. Lost in her own world. Too busy to care about anything else. Distracted from the utter shambles that had been her shitty married life for at least two decades.
I couldn't exactly remember the last time I'd watched her cook for me. The familiarity and normalcy of it almost made me think we're having a little private reunion of sorts.
Reunions always made me cringe and I hadn't called this house my home in years, but, sure. I wouldn't leave her out here by herself. Not this time.
She needed me. And we needed her more. For our ambitious plans to work out, I had to keep her sane.
Safe. Alive.
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