“If Mario is against his brother’s wedding, Seb is right, we need to use Art as bait and send him back home.” Marco grabs his phone to contact him.
His words make me freeze. Every muscle in my body has stiffened as it once again refuses to go along with the plan. Even though my head is telling me it’s what needs to be done, together with my avenging, bloodthirsty side, something inside of me is screaming not to let Art go.
“Fuck!” I kick the chair near the table, making it fly across the room.
“Christ man! What is it?” Marco’s hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it. Some of the rage diminishes, but not the internal battle regarding Art.
I jerk Marco’s hand off me and order Jeff and Johnny to clean the mess. Then I move to the sink to wash my hands and bloody forearms. Art’s light blue eyes suddenly appear in front of me. How they crease when he smiles. The glow he radiates spreading all over his face, to his perfectly shaped lips and neat eyebrows. It’s like watching a stream of sunlight spilling from the clouds. He’s delicate and bright and vivid. He’s warmth and sorrow. Feistiness and vulnerability.
Fuck! Why? Why? I grip the metal sink edge so tight I hear a crack.
My phone starts ringing. I dry my hands and walk back to the table to get it out of my jacket. It’s Carlo.
“Talk,” I say into the phone.
“Boss.” His voice sounds strained. “He’s gone.”
Three hours later, I enter my apartment again, followed by Seb, Marco, and Fly. Art’s sunshine and apple scent engulfs me. I don’t hear Nacho’s bark or his tiny, clumsy body hitting furniture as he scrambles to reach me. There’s Carlo, sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. Jo is next to him holding an icepack on the back of his head. As soon as they see me, they both spring off the sofa.
“Boss, this is all my fault—” Carlo starts, but I don’t let him finish. I punch him right in the face and then in the gut. Next Igrab him from the collar of his shirt and shove him down on the sofa.
I ignore Fly’s gasp as I roar in his face, “It fucking is! And you’ll be punished for it this time by me severely, you fucking idiot. I’m so damn tired of all this incompetence!”
He nods with a stony expression. I let his shirt go and move toward the window. I hear Seb ordering him to go see Doc. The person I’m really angry at is me. I should punch myself. Why didn’t I handcuff him to the bed before leaving? Why didn’t I put more men outside the door? He whispered a few words in my ear, and I just couldn't think straight anymore. But did I ever do that with Art?
I’m certainly used to him trying to leave, seeing how many times it happened. He lied, manipulated me. So why do I feel this backstabbing feeling whirling inside my gut? Did I actually want him to stay? No. The plan was to let him go. It just happened a little earlier. Not under my control.
I light a cigar and when I put the pack back in the jacket pocket, I feel the edge of the paper note he left for me.
I crumple it in my hand. There’s no need to read it again. Every single word is carved inside my head.
Dear Luca,
I feel like I overstayed my…unwelcome, and it’s time for me to go.
There are many things I’d like to say, but that’s not really our style, is it?
Let me just tell you about something that keeps hanging in the back of my mind. When you found my phone, you saw I asked Rami about Doppi’s son’s murder. I think Mario did it and tried to pin it on your family for some reason. The horn pendant with the engraved cross you found near the body, I think it came from his bracelet.
The house you saved Fly from a few months ago, you should check the backyard. I hope this’ll help.
I wish
Be caref
I’m sor
Addio Luca,
Art
PS. Carlo is not responsible for my escape. Please, don’t punish him.
Every word he wrote feels like acid being poured down my throat. We went to his apartment, to his clubs. But there’s no trace of him. Nobody saw him. Our men in the police checked all the airports and train stations, nothing. Did he really go back to his father? We have men outside his two main residences, but Art never got there. Fuck! I just have to know where he is. I need to know. I don’t fucking know why.
“Can I see the note, please?” Fly asks.
I hand it to him after crushing it even more in my hand.