I dropped everything on the console except for the gun and tiptoed down the hall to his bedroom. The door was ajar, the late afternoon sun spilling out of it. I got the gun ready and carefully pushed the door open. “Papa.”
There was no glimpse of him or his wheelchair. I checked the bathroom, too, and it was empty. Fuck.
I raced back to the main hall, not bothering to look upstairs. He hadn’t been up there since he lost the function of his legs after my brother’s funeral. “Papa!”
“Ravenna, I’m here.” His wheelchair appeared from the lounge, and I could finally breathe.
I ran toward him, putting the gun down. “Jesus, Papa. Why aren’t you answering your—” The words stuck in my throat when a man in a black suit emerged behind my father, grabbing hold of the wheelchair.
“Sorry, malyshka.” Papa swallowed as the man in the suit pried the gun out of my hand. “We have guests.”
“Doctor Berlusconi.” The man gestured at the lounge as if it was his own house, and I was the guest. “Join us, per favore.”
Sweat trickling down the back of my silk blouse, I followed without a word; I didn’t even try to fight for the gun.
When I entered, I spotted another man on the couch. Late thirties. Light beard. Tattoos of skulls and thorns around his wrist. His suit was gray and much more expensive than that of the other man. I presumed the one who took my gun was the bodyguard, and the man watching our TV, making himself comfortable in our own home, was the boss.
“I love this movie,” the boss said without looking at me. “Come watch with me, Doc.”
I wouldn’t leave my father’s side. I held tight to his arm. “Thanks, but I just got back from Chicago. I’m too tired to enjoy a movie right now. How may I help you, Don Lanza?”
He uncrossed his legs and slowly turned his head toward me, a sickening smile on his face. “You know who I am?”
It wasn’t hard to guess. Safin’s wife was Nina Lanza, Enzio Lanza’s cousin. “I’ve never had the pleasure to meet you before, but you don’t need an introduction.”
He pierced me with a steel gaze for long blood curdling moments. “And yet you did what you did in court, freeing the coward prick that killed my cousin.”
I blinked once. “I’m sorry for your loss. But Viktor Safin suffers from a serious mental illness. He is my patient, and I had to testify in court, describing his—”
“Cut the bullshit, Doc. Lying will only make things worse.”
Papa squeezed my hand, his pale blue eyes wrinkling, beseeching me to comply. I sighed, too tired to defy but also too sick of everything my life had turned to be.
“Then I won’t waste your precious time. I’m sure you have more important things to do than redecorate my practice door or watch TV.” I grabbed a chair and sat next to Papa. “Now, to what do we owe the honor of your visit, Don Lanza?”
The Mob boss smirked and gave a small nod. “Let’s put it that way. You helped the murderer of one of my own walk free. In our book, I think you know what that means.”
“Please, Enzio. She’s just a kid. If you want to retaliate, I’m right in front of you, but leave her alone,” Papa begged.
I didn’t know if it was Safin’s call or how much I’d come to know of the Mafia code by now or the Prozac or if it was me being fed up with this bullshit, but I wasn’t afraid of Lanza’s empty threat. If he wanted me dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. I nudged Papa to stop talking and looked at Lanza right in the eye. “I do know what it means. It means I owe you one.”
Lanza chuckled at my father. “Your girl is smart, Chernov.” His glance returned on me. “Too smart for her own good.”
Papa mumbled a plea in Russian at me, again asking me to comply. The man that once had been so strong, whose footsteps alone instigated fear wherever it landed, whose word was heard and obeyed, was now so weak and frightened and humiliated. Crippled in every sense of the word.
“How’s your mamma, Ravenna?” Lanza asked. “Is she still…not well?”
A lump clogged my throat. Why would he bring her up? Was it a threat or a preface?
“I hear she’s in Filicudi now,” he continued.
“You heard correctly.”
“Nice island. Have you visited her lately?”
I shook my head, the lump in my throat growing. “I’m not very welcome there.”
“But she’s your mamma. You gotta check on her.”