Page 57 of Craving Danger

Mr. Vitale actually looks worried about me as he says, “I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that.”

Realizing he’s touching my face, I pull away and whisper, “Don’t touch me.”

He immediately takes a couple of steps away from me, then he glances toward the entrance of the building, and his face turns to stone.

I follow the line of his sight and watch as a man is carried toward us.

When they lay the man down near us, Mr. Vitale moves closer and crouches next to him. He places his hand on the man’s chest, and it’s only then I recognize the expression on his face. Grief.

The man was important to him.

Mr. Vitale rises to his full height and asks, “Renzo, can you handle this for me?”

“Of course,” Renzo replies. “Dario, give me a hand.”

As I look at all the men, power and rage come off them in waves, and it taints the air I breathe.

Who are they?

I don’t realize I asked the question out loud until Mr. Vitale answers, “They’re friends.”

“Let’s get out of here,” one of his friends orders.

Mr. Vitale’s eyes lock on me, then he says, “Let’s go.”

I slip off the car’s hood and follow him to the G-Wagon, where the remaining guard is waiting for us.

“Bring the SUV, Milo,” Mr. Vitale instructs before he opens the passenger door.

The tablet. I have no idea what happened to it.

Feeling numb, I climb into the vehicle and pull on the safety belt.

When Mr. Vitale starts the engine, I look out of the window and think to ask, “What about the police?”

“Don’t worry about them,” he mutters.

As we drive away from the building, I lower my head and try to make sense of what happened today.

My voice sounds drained of life as I ask, “Did they try to kidnap you?”

“No.”

I don’t understand how I’m able to have a conversation right now.

“Then why did it happen?”

“They wanted to kill me,” Mr. Vitale answers, making it sound like this is an everyday occurrence for him.

Before I can ask another question, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers, “Vitale speaking.”

Slowly, I turn my head to glance at my boss. He looks a hell of a lot calmer than I feel.

The man is really made of stone.

“Lorenzo didn’t make it. Renzo and Dario took his body.” He listens to whatever the other person says, then replies, “It was the Slovak mafia…yeah, get everyone ready for war…I’m five minutes away.”

He ends the call, and all I can do is blink at him.

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