Page 13 of Single Malt Drama
Marco
Someone should writea country song about watching a jet take the woman who turned down your fake marriage proposal far away. Letting Nico go was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Like a lovesick fool, I’d stood on the tarmac until the plane disappeared into the night sky.
I slid into the backseat of the waiting SUV and slammed the door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Not yet.” Dante ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Is she going to be okay?”
“I pulled out as much cash as I could from the ATM and gave her every euro I had on me.” I didn’t want to talk about Nico. In fact, I didn’t want to talk about a damned thing.
“She’s really going to take a rental car from Ohio to New Orleans?” He frowned. “Without security?”
“That’s her grand plan.” I stared out the window.
“I’m surprised she knows how to drive, let alone fill the tank, or use a map.” He folded his arms and stared as if waiting for me to reassure him.
“Not for nothing, Dante, but you’re the son of a bitch that hasn’t stopped complaining since we left home last night. It’s a little late for you to give a shit about her.” I motioned for the driver to go. The sooner we got the hell out of there, the better.
“We’re not leaving yet,” Dante said to the driver before turning back to me. “Just because I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire doesn’t mean I don’t care about Nicolina. Let’s face it, she’s lived a pretty sheltered life.”
“She’ll be fine. If she runs into trouble, she has a burner phone and my number.” I hated the thought of her driving so many miles alone, but she’d made it clear she didn’t want me along for the ride—or anything else.
Dante signaled for the driver to go. “Get some shut eye. You’ll need it. Gabe’s going to chew our asses when we get home. I’ll wake you when we’re close.”
I rested my head back and folded my arms. For once in his life, my little brother was right, Nico had grown up in a golden castle. However, she was stronger than anyone gave her credit for. I should respect her wishes. She can handle herself. But damn it all, she shouldn’t be alone. Sooner or Later, Pietro Lazio will find her.
“I know that look. You’re either planning something or constipated.” He nodded toward the terminal. “If you’re going, you need to hurry. The morning flight to Rome leaves in a half-hour.”
I raked my hands through my hair. “I hate it, but she seemed determined to do this on her own.”
“So? Go home and visit Enzo. Worst case scenario, you’re in the States if she needs help. Best case, you happen to be in New Orleans the same time she is.”
“Since when are you the wise brother?” I chuckled and checked my pocket for my fake passport and credit card. Motioning to the driver, I said, “Circle back to the terminal.”
Dante laughed. “I’ll deny I said this, but you’re making the right decision.”
“What are you going to tell Gabe?”
“That you went home to talk to Enzo.” He shrugged. “The jet’s missing, He’s going to know somethings up and assume Nico’s involved.”
While I appreciated my little brother’s level of subterfuge, I didn’t feel right about all of the lies. Gabe might have told me to steer clear of Nico, but he’d understand. Eventually. “I’ll call him after I get my ticket and give him the short version of the situation.”
Dante gave me a quick hug and pat on the back. “Have fun flying commercial, bro.”
My heart beat out a rhythm better suited for a Metallica song than an internal organ. I had no freaking clue how I’d find Nico in New Orleans, but I’d figure it out. All I had to do was keep my eye on the prize, the rest would work itself out—or so I told myself.
Ticket in hand, I made it to the gate with ten minutes to spare. Because I was a man of my word, I dialed Gabe’s number.
My brother, Leo, picked up instead. “Marco, where the hell are you?”
Leo was ten months younger than Gabe, and normally the more rational of the two. However, the current situation was anything but normal.
I didn’t have time to launch into a ten-minute explanation. I needed to give him a quick update and get on the plane. “Did I call the wrong number, or are you babysitting Gabe’s phone?”
“He’s busy handling the mess you made.” Leo did not sound amused.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “How bad is it?”
“The short version, Pietro Lazio knows you and Dante were in Levanzo this morning.” A muffled sound came over the line, as if he’d covered the receiver.