Page 145 of Empire of Temptation

Would I ever see her again? Our last encounter, with me pretending to barely know her, wasn’t how I wanted her to remember me. No doubt she was still angry and I wish I had the ability to explain.

I wish I could tell her how every minute without her was like a chain around my soul, trapping me, dragging me down. How I would do it all differently, if I could. But life doesn’t give us the ability to go back and right the wrongs done to those we love.

I loved her and I might never have the chance to prove it.

The door flew open. Palmieri walked through, his suit again rumpled, the circles under his eyes considerably worse. He shut the door and came toward the table where I sat.

“You look like shit,” I said.

“Some of us work for a living.” He didn’t sit, but continued to stand next to me. “You should try it sometime.”

I gave him a bland look. “I’m a businessman. Of course I work.”

He shook his head at my comment, then gestured for me to stand. “Walk with me.”

Che cazzo? “Where?”

“Let’s go.”

Without waiting for me, he strode to the door and went out into the hall. I pushed up from the chair and followed, my long legs catching up immediately. He led me down several corridors until we reached a locked door. Seconds later, we were buzzed through and then again through another locked door. This was as close to freedom as I’d experienced in almost a week. I tried to keep calm. It might not mean anything.

Palmieri kept going.

At a desk, he retrieved his service weapon and phone. He signed a few papers, then continued out the door. I cast a quick glance at the desk guard, but he ignored me, returning to his paperwork. I trailed Palmieri past the other checkpoints until we reached the main entrance.

He walked out.

I followed.

The sun hit my face and I let out the breath I’d been holding for days. I didn’t know if I was free or this was a temporary reprieve, but I wasn’t wasting it. Closing my eyes, I inhaled and let the air out slowly, like I was cleaning out the prison air from my lungs.

Fuck, that was nice.

Palmieri was standing at a food truck off to the side of the prison entrance. I went over. He gave the owner a few Euros, then wemoved off to the side slightly. I didn’t say anything. A few minutes later Palmieri handed me a sandwich wrapped in crisp paper. “This way.”

He pointed to a small area with benches behind the food truck. It was visible to the prison, but not close enough to be overheard.

We sat. I unwrapped the sandwich, which wasporchetta di ariccia. Boneless pork roll seasoned with garlic and rosemary. “Grazie,” I said before taking a bite.

He began eating, like he was content to drag this out, so I asked, “Did you do it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You wouldn’t bring me out here alone if Rossi were still alive. So, congratulations.”

He exhaled heavily. “There is no satisfaction to be found in another man’s death, Benetti.”

I took a bite of my sandwich, swallowed. “Killing is sometimes necessary. You can’t dwell on the guilt. You avenged your daughter’s death and that is what matters.”

“This would be how you would see it.”

“It’s how anyone would see it, colonnello. Did he tell you why?”

“Retribution for his nephew’s conviction. He thought I was in the car. He didn’t realize my daughter was traveling with a nanny.”

Cristo santo. Rossi had tried to assassinate Palmieri, which was a bad idea in itself, and instead killed the officer’s daughter. I had no words. In my world, women and children were strictly off-limits. “There were reasons I could not help you. For that, I am sorry.”

“I know. Your brotherhood code, or whatever the fuck. But I appreciate the little you did, which is why I kept you inside, where you couldn’t meddle. No one will suspect you.”

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