Page 137 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“This baby is a quadcopter because it has four propellers. Unlike, say, an airplane with a fixed wing or a military drone, this has a motor that allows the rotary wing to spin against the air to create lift. As it spins, air molecules shift downward, which pulls the drone upward. Once in the air, it can move in four directions by spinning the four propellers at different speeds.”
I pause, heat creeping up my neck because I’ve just geeked out on them. To my surprise, they’re hanging on every word. I give a quick self-conscious smile and rein in the urge to go into detail about how military drones are usually fixed-wing, needing skilled ground operators, precise field data, and a maze of other technical systems to function. I keep to myself the fact they’re also silent, efficient predators in modern warfare. “How about an aerial tour of the local attractions?”
Riley claps her hand. “They’re setting up for the antique fair just south of here. Can we steal a peek?”
“Only if you promise to buy two more lamps? Hell, I’ll pay for them.”
She chuckles, and I can’t help thinking my brother’s lucked out with her.
Switching the camera to live feed, I send the drone into the air, keeping my eyes on their reactions instead of the screen.
“Wow, look at that view,” Riley says, her voice full of awe.
“The sea and sky go on forever,” Fina murmurs.
Finding the fair takes some time, but I know I’ve hit the mark when Riley claps her hands again. “See, Fina. It’s huge.”
Like most markets, it’s set up in a local square, tables forming a rectangle around a weathered statue framed by old trees.
I keep the drone high enough that none of the vendors notice.
“The only street I’ve never been down is the one to the right. Can we check out the shops?”
I guide the drone along the narrow lane, gliding past a small café with bistro tables set out on the sidewalk, a butcher shop with a pig etched on the window, and a boutique that instantly lights up the women beside me. The street ends abruptly, spilling onto a sidewalk and then onto stone steps leading to an ancient church’s tall wooden doors.
A throat clears.
All three of us glare at the man interrupting us.
“Sandro would like you in his office for a conference call,” his soldier informs me.
I hand the controls to Fina, and almost curl up in laughter at her startled expression. “You trust me with this?” she bursts out.
I climb off the chaise, anxious to get the latest update over with. “Fly it over land,” I reply with a wink, “and all is good.”
FINA
“Everything okay?”I ask when Renzo returns to the casita.
He’s been inside Sandro’s office for a few hours with two dozen or so men, Massimo Grassi first and foremost on their minds. I can’t imagine what Massimo was thinking, pissing off Sebastiano Beneventi and kidnapping his right-hand man. Does he understand he’s in deep water? That the repercussions for his actions will be severe?
“Okay with the drone I pulled out of the pool or are we talking mafia business?”
I blink. “Is that where it disappeared to?”
He chuckles. “Considering you owe me now, can I ask a favor, one that will put you in an awkward position with my brother?”
I roll my eyes. “Sure.”
“I’m flying to Sicily in an hour. Lie to my brother and pretend I’m still here for as long as you can.”
“Okay.” I bite my lip, then softly say, “You’re leaving in an hour?” I don’t hide my disappointment. I couldn’t even if I tried.
“Against orders. I’ve got to sort this shit out with Massimo before war breaks out officially.”
I nod. “Despite his men attacking you or what he’s done to Dante, you consider him a friend.”
He rubs his fingers across his jaw. So handsome. So completely male. “Yeah. But pray he hasn’t fucked up, or that’ll change rather quickly.”
