Page 3 of Single Malt Drama

“Your old nanny and groundskeeper?” I remembered the couple. They’d practically raised her after her mother had passed away.

“Yes. I told them a little of what is happening and they have agreed to help me escape.”

This time my brain not only stopped working, but smoke seeped from my ears. “Are you crazy? Your father will have them, and everyone they love, murdered.”

“They’re leaving Trapani.” Her voice thinned. “I’m going to help them join their family in America.”

I hated this idea more than I hated her father for putting her in this position. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Alessio and Maria are meeting me on the beach with a boat, but it is too small to get to the airport on Pantelleria fast enough, which is why I need your help.”

“I’m happy to smuggle them into the US, and afterward, I’ll whisk you away to some exotic corner of the world, preferably a corner with a clothing-optional beach.” Truer words had never been spoken. I wasn’t exactly a happily-ever-after kind of guy, but a few months with Nico’s legs wrapped around my waist wouldn’t suck.

“This is not the time for jokes.” She sighed.

Who’s joking?“Sorry. Go on.”

“Remember when you said to call you if I needed anything?”

Oh boy.“Yes?”

“I need you to meet us off the coast of Formica tomorrow morning. Please tell me you have access to your family’s yacht.”

“I do.” If I can convince Gabe to let me off the compound long enough to meet her. I’d find a way. I had to. I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, especially when that damsel was Nico. “What time?”

“They are meeting me before sunrise.”

I did some quick mental math. The trip to Trapani was nothing to sneeze at. Even at cruising speed, it would take six or seven hours to reach her. If I was late, she’d be a sitting duck. “Formica is too exposed. Go to our secret place on Levanzo. We can hide Alessio’s boat in the cave.”

The memory of the first time we’d run away from home together crossed my mind. We had been ten or eleven years old and determined to escape our overbearing families. The two days we’d spent on the tiny Aegadian Island had been amazing. At least until my father’s men had found us down by tracking my phone.

“Don’t forget to turn off your cell this time.” Nico laughed.

“Ha ha. Are you sure about this?”

“I have never been more sure.”

I absolutely hated this plan. She was taking an enormous risk by defying her father. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if she was caught trying to escape. “Nic, I hate to state the obvious, but airports, ferry terminals, and train stations are the first place your father will look.”

She sighed. “I know, but I’m praying he will search larger places first. If so, we will make it to Pantelleria before his men.”

Pietro Lazio had an army of employees at his disposal. Some would undoubtably head to the island. There was no way in hell we would arrive before them. No yacht could outrun a helicopter.

“Forget Pantelleria. I’m bringing you back here and putting you on the Marchionni Corporation jet. No Lazio would dare set foot in Comiso, not with the current tensions.”

Current tensionswas putting it mildly. A couple of weeks ago, someone had fired shots over Enzo’s head. A few days later, armed men had been apprehended in the crowd at Gabe’s wedding. The escalating violence wasn’t restricted to Sicily. It’d spilled over to New Orleans. Enzo’s restaurant had been ransacked, and his girlfriend’s apartment had been burned down. While Pietro Lazio denied any involvement, my brothers and I believed he’d issued the orders.

“Think about it. It’s summer—there are thousands of boats around the islands.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. My father has spies everywhere, even in Comiso. If he found out I left Sicily on your family’s plane…” Nico went quiet. “It’s better if you only take us to Pantelleria.”

Rather than argue, I decided to table the conversation. I’d have hours at sea to change her mind. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” She drew a breath. “I will text you from my burner phone once we are offshore.”

“And before you leave the house.” Reluctant to end the call, I said, “We could put Maria and Alessio on the plane, and we could take the yacht to Malta. Santorini? I hear Cyprus is nice this time of year.”

“There is no we, Marco. I have to get them to the United States, and then I must disappear. Alone.”

Yep, I hated this plan. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?”

“It’s probably best if I don’t tell you everything.” Nico sighed again. “I should go.”

I stared at the phone after she disconnected. One way or another, sweetheart, I’m going to convince you to become my wife—for a few months, anyway.