Page 148 of Stricken

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Later that night, once I'm inside the sanctuary of my home again, I pour myself a drink and down it in one desperate motion.

Costa hands me a neatly folded note and I take a moment to think it through before I choose to see what's on it.

Desert Ridge Hospital. Room 245.

I walk over to the candle burning on the coffee table and let the tiny flame eat the paper. This information isn't released to the masses. A man who holds this much power is a target for every thug in Vegas right now. People will try to kill him while he's unconscious.

"Let's go," I tell Costa, setting my glass on the wooden console table filled with family photos and books.

Costa frowns a little. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. The old man isn't here anymore. How the hell will he know that I'm going to see Vlad? He's in the grave."

"Fair enough. Want me to get the car ready?"

"Yes."

Costa nods and disappears from the room, leaving me one-on-one with my thoughts.

I'm contemplating another drink for courage, but I don't want to be too drunk when I see Vlad. So, I hold back. I need my mind clear to unravel the truth. And Vlad is the only one who knows what happened. Vlad and Rinaldo. But Tony's lieutenant hasn't been answering Costa's calls. And I'm very impatient. I don't have it in me to wait for him to return from his sabbatical in time for another job.

The soft click of heels against the marble floor draws my attention.

I turn to the sound.

Aunt Chiara enters the living room. She seems to have grown smaller since the funeral. Her eyes are sad. Not because she just lost a husband, but because both Roberto and Salvatore are forbidden from staying at the house. I'm still unsure of what to do with the assholes. Roberto is mostly harmless, but Sal will find a way to make my life hell again. And that's the last thing I need.

Problem is I feel sorry for my aunt. I don't have the strength to kill her younger son. Violence brings more violence. There has to be another solution I've yet to come up with.

"I heard about the accident," Chiara says, halting to a stop.

"Hmm." I'm not sure she is the right person to talk to about this matter.

"I'm sorry." She takes several careful steps in my direction. "I know you care about him."

"Well, he's always been reckless. It was only a matter of time before his luck ran out."

"Everyone's luck eventually runs out, Nicola."

"That's true."

"If you really want to see him, you should," she whispers, taking my hand into hers. "Family is everything, Nicola. It's the only thing that truly matters in this life. But if your family can't let you be who you are, what is the point?"

Bitterness fills my voice. "Sometimes, I wonder if the price of family is too high. If the sacrifices we make are worth it in the end."

Chiara's gaze softens, a knowing look in her eyes. "Happiness is a fleeting thing in our world, Nico. We must grab onto it when we can,tesoro."

Before I can respond, my phone vibrates. A text message from Costa indicates that the car is ready and out front.

"I'll get going,Zia," I tell Chiara.

She pats my shoulder gently. "Take care, Nico."

I pivot toward the door, my gaze catching on the hulking silhouette dominating the entrance. "Going somewhere, Mr. Morelli?" the Sicilian asks, and the way he says it, the way he shoves the words out in Italian seems like it's a rhetorical question and it prickles my skin.

"That doesn't concern you," I reply sharply. "It's time for you to go back to Italy anyway. Tony is gone and I don't need your services."

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