32Alfonso
Giulio likesto skulk in the shadows with his guns.
That works for him, and the brooding, sad orphan thing got him Zahra, but it’s not an option for me. I’m too big and tall and noticeable on any day, anywhere, but especially here where most people don’t just notice me; they’ve known my family for generations. It makes it difficult to stalk this man, who I’m certain is here to find me.
Difficult, but not impossible. I trail him from the beach into the main shopping plaza. I use the crowd to hide me as best I can, but I keep my distance. I don’t have to track him far. There’s a fountain in the center of the plaza where I spy Andrea and another man. I peel off into a leather shop.
“Alfonso,” Signora Galicia calls to me.
I greet her and let her pull me into the store. I keep one eye on the cluster of Andrea and his men while I listen to Signora Galicia’s story about this past winter — she spent it in Puglia with her son. When Andrea and his men begin to move, I make my apologies to the Signora and follow them. They’re heading back to the beach, but that’s not ideal.
“Andrea,” I call out.
He turns at his name. I wave and then duck into an alley. They’re smart enough not to run and gather unwanted attention. I use that to my advantage.
There’s a dry riverbed that runs down the length of the mountain from Montepertuso to Positano. Most tourists never notice it, but locals sometimes cut through here when they’re in a hurry to catch a ferry. It’s a surprisingly secluded place to hide, right on the edge of the busy town center.
Here, I am in my element.
They should have brought guns. I would have. I’ve never had to face someone as big as me, but I know that whenever that day comes, I don’t plan to waste my time or energy trying to fight him hand to hand.
I like pain, but I do not have a death wish.
Apparently, Andrea does.
Maybe it’s the prestige. Maybe he wants to be able to tell everyone that he fought me and won. Either way, arrogance is deadly.
Andrea moves toward me, pulling his shirt over his head. His men stand sentry at the mouth of the cave, blocking my path, foolishly assuming I plan to run away when I never have before.
“Who sent you?” I ask, pushing the sleeves of my shirt up my arms.
“That’s none of your business,” he says.
I roll my shoulders in a circle, and the scratches Zoe left all over my back sting, reminding me of her. As if I could forget. “You can tell me now, or you can tell me when you have barely any teeth left in your mouth.”
Andrea laughs mirthlessly, but I see one of his men flinch at the promise because that’s what I’ve made to him. We all know what I can do.
“You’ll be dead before that,” he says.
“If you came here to kill me, you should have done it already.”
Andrea shrugs. “Of course, I came here to kill you, but I want to give you a chance to fight for your life,” he says. “I think it will be fun.”
I’ve met a lot of sadistic bastards. Some might say that I’m one of them. So, I know what terrifying looks like. It’s not Andrea.
“Do they know who sent you? Or can I kill them first?”
They shift again, and Andrea frowns, but he doesn’t give me an answer, which is all the answer I need.
I’ve watched enough of Andrea’s fights to know that his left side is his weakness. Not every fighter can be ambidextrous, but it helps to shore up your non-dominant side, a lesson I know Andrea’s manager told him often enough. A lesson I know he’s yet to learn when my fist collides with his jaw.
That crack of bone and flesh is like a gunshot in this cave, and it gets my blood roaring.
If I had wanted to kill him with one punch, I could have, but I don’t. I stun him, and he falls to the ground. I turn on his associates. They’re frozen in place at the shocking turn of events, and I take advantage, which — besides pain — is one of my other skills.
It takes an unfortunately small amount of work to beat them unconscious. When I turn back to Andrea, he’s standing but dazed, and there’s a knife in his hand.
“At least you’re not a complete idiot,” I say, lunging for him.