Page 92 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

As she went back to the phone call, I sat there trembling on the bed.

This is a bad, BAD idea…

30

Valentino

We left the hotel in a caravan of Alfa Romeo SUVs, all black.

Don Vicari didn’t like to splurge on his jet, but at least his cars were only a few years old.

Vicari sat behind the driver. I sat behind the guy riding shotgun.

He wasliterallyriding shotgun, by the way: he had a sawed-off double-barrel Remington between his legs, angled down towards the floor.

I prayed that Niccolo had been right about Sicilians being extremely paranoid. Otherwise, it sure looked like they were expecting to get ambushed by somebody.

As we got on the interstate, the BMW sedan carrying Niccolo went one way while the rest of the vehicles went the other.

Don Vicari stared silently at the driver’s seat. Neither the driver nor the guy riding shotgun said anything, either.

It freaked me out a little hownobodywas talking…

But I didn’t really want to talk anyway, so I gazed out at the scenery.

Palermo seemed to go on forever. It waswaybigger than Florence, the city closest to my home.

Well…

Whatusedto be my home.

Suddenly, a ringtone broke the silence.

Shotgun Guy reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a cell phone. He answered it, listened, and then held out the phone. “It’s for you, boss.”

Vicari took it. “What,” he said emotionlessly.

His face darkened.

“Tell him you’re not hanging around to take him back,” he growled.

After the guy on the other end said something, Vicari looked even more pissed off. “Fine. Fuck him, then.”

He hung up the phone and passed it back to Shotgun.

“Your brother switched plans on me,” Vicari said without looking at me.

My heart beat faster from hope. “Dario?”

“No, theconsigliere.”

“Oh.”Nic.“What did he do?”

“He’s not taking the jet back to Tuscany.”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

Vicari’s face twisted into a bitter scowl. “Maybe he doesn’t trust me to deliver him home in one piece.”

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