Collateral Read online

  His phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket with one hand while keeping the other on the wheel.

  “Speak of the devil.” He puts a finger to his lips, and I wonder if he doesn’t want Stefan to know he’s taking me along to his meeting.

  “Stef,” he answers.

  Stefan talks and I strain to listen, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

  Rafa reassures him of something then asks how his trip is going. At Stefan’s answer, Rafa chuckles. They then disconnect and Rafa puts the phone in a pocket on the front console.

  “Looks like Stefan will be gone one more night.”

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  “Here and there.”

  I want to ask what that means but Rafa turns the radio up and starts to sing along so I shift my gaze out the window and watch the scenery which, like he said, is beautiful.

  Rafa drives about twenty miles over the limit and we arrive in just over two-and-a-half hours. He explains that Taormina proper is about ten minutes farther, but we’ll go after lunch.

  He slows the car once we reach a secluded restaurant and Rafa hands his keys to the valet. He slips on a jacket, which surprises me as this seems like a casual place.

  “Grab your bikini. You can go to the beach after we eat.”

  “Okay.” I bring my bag and step onto the sandy path leading to the building. Music plays outside and although there are about a dozen tables inside the cool building, most of the seating is on the beach under palm trees which are blowing in the breeze. Even in their shade, it’s hot.

  I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room and when I return, I find Rafa talking to someone. When that man sees me, he gives me a cold look, then tells Rafa he’ll see him soon.

  “Outside or inside?” Rafa asks me, still casual, as if he didn’t notice the way the man looked at me.

  “Outside, if you don’t mind. I like the heat.”

  “Me too.”

  He puts a hand at my lower back, and we follow a hostess outside to an out of the way table.

  When I sit down, I slip off my sandals and dig my toes into the warm, soft sand. I watch the kids playing on the beach while their parents sit with bottles of wine on their tables eating heaping plates of fresh seafood. The band is set at the far end and they’re playing an upbeat tune. Colorful lights are strung above our heads, so many of them that they almost make a canopy.

  “It must be pretty at night,” I comment.

  “It is. Especially with the moon on the water.”

  A waitress appears with a bucket of ice and a bottle of white wine.

  I remember my hangover of a few nights ago but feel like a child to order a coke instead so I let Rafa pour for both of us and I just sip from my glass.

  I open my menu but Rafa interrupts. “They have a daily catch. It’s always amazing and fresh. Do you like fish?”

  “Very much.”

  “I suggest you take the special then.”

  “Okay, sounds good to me.” I close my menu.

  “Two of the fresh catch please,” he tells the waitress in Italian, giving her a charming, disarming smile.

  I study that smile. It’s so at odds with the man of the other night.

  A moment later when she walks away, there’s a momentary awkwardness.

  “Stefan doesn’t know I’m here, does he?” I finally ask.

  “I’ll tell him when he’s back.”

  “He won’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I accused him of being jealous of you.”

  He smiles wide, showing off big white teeth. “Sounds about right,” he says with a wink. “Don’t worry about Stefan. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  I’m not so sure.

  “I’ll tell him I made you come with me, so you won’t be in trouble.”

  “I won’t be in trouble. I’m not a child and I’m not afraid of him.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You should be, Gabriela. You should take care with him.” His expression has gone deadly serious and his words send a chill through me.

  “Weren’t you just singing his praises? Telling me how fair and understanding he is?”

  “Just stay in his good graces.”

  “I don’t think I am in his good graces.” I think I already fucked that up if I ever had it at all.

  “He’s being careful with you. You may not see it, but I do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said.” Before I can ask more, the waitress returns with a large plate of fried calamari, wedges of lemon and a shaker of salt. “Just smell those,” Rafa says, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply when she sets them down.

  They do smell amazing.

  We eat the calamari then the catch of the day, which is a white fish roasted over a fire. It, too, is delicious and before I know it, I find I’ve drunk two glasses of wine and eaten my entire plate.

  A few moments later, Rafa wipes his mouth and checks his watch.

  “Are you going to be all right here? I need to go to my meeting.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll just be inside if you need me.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I say. “Is it all right if I go to the square there and just check out the market? I’m not going to go anywhere.”

  “I’m not afraid of you going somewhere. I can’t leave you unprotected. You’re with Stefan now. You’re valuable, Gabriela.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean taking his fiancée would give his enemies power over him.”

  “Like kidnapping me?”

  “Don’t tell me it’s never occurred to you growing up a Marchese.”

  Guards surrounded me 24/7 then. I guess it’s no different than now. And I never thought about it. Maybe I thought it would be a blessing if someone would take me.

  And now someone has.

  “Stay on the beach. I’ll take you myself once I’m finished. I’ll even take you into Taormina proper. This market is for tourists.”

  “Who’s going to be watching me now?” I ask, irritated.

  “See those two men?” he asks, gesturing to the two who stand just outside the restaurant doors. I wonder how long they’ve been standing there because Rafa didn’t even have to turn his head to look for them, he just knew they were there. “They’re with the man I’m meeting. They know who you are and will keep an eye on you.”

  He must see worry on my face because he reaches out and squeezes my hand. The gesture is odd. Out of place.

  “It’s fine. Just pretend like they’re not there. They won’t come near you unless there’s a threat.”

  “There are kids here, Rafa. What are they going to do? Take out guns if they think someone may be a threat?”

  He checks his watch. “Relax, Gabriela, they’re not inexperienced men.” He stands and signals to the waitress who comes over right away. “Order a dessert. And have another glass of wine. I’ll be finished before you know it.”

  I don’t do either as I watch him walk toward those men, nodding to them as he passes into the restaurant. I see him cross the window and shake hands with someone I don’t see. I turn my gaze to the beach, to the kids building sand castles, to the parents all smiling and happy as the music plays and I feel sick to my stomach.

  23

  Gabriela

  The sun is descending when, two hours later, Rafa returns. I can see right away from the look on his face that he isn’t happy. I watch the guards who stood by the door walk away as he comes toward me.

  “Ready?” he asks, and he can’t even muster a fake smile. “We need to head back. I’ll take you to Taormina another time.”

  “That’s fine.” I don’t much feel like seeing the town anyway. I gather up my things and force a smile. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he says as we turn to go.

  We walk out over the beach, not bothering to go into the restaurant and I can see the men who’d just been guarding the en
trance flanking another man, a shorter, fatter one, for whom they open the back door of an SUV with windows tinted black.

  When the SUV drives away, I find Rafa watching it and when the valet pulls up with our vehicle, Rafa snaps at the man.

  I follow him to the passenger side, and he opens the door for me. I climb in and fasten my seatbelt.

  Before he gets in, he takes off his jacket and tosses it into the backseat. He then takes the gun out of its holster and puts it somewhere in the side of the door.

  “You have a gun,” I say, realizing that’s why he’d put the jacket on.

  He looks at me like it’s the most natural thing.

  “Why do you have a gun?”

  “Don’t be naïve, Gabriela. You know what I am. What Stefan is.”

  “But—”

  “You also know what your father is.”

  “My father isn’t the Sicilian mafia.”

  “No,” he says, just glancing at me with a sardonic look before shifting his gaze to the road to merge with traffic. “He’s a saint.”

  “I didn’t say he was a saint. I just…he never carries a gun when I’m around.”

  “You think.”

  It’s not true, what I said. I’ve never seen my dad hold one, not in a way that suggested he intended on using it, but he did pack one in my duffel, didn’t he? And even if I didn’t see it, I know he has fired at least one shot.

  “Besides, how am I supposed to protect Stefan’s fiancée without one?” He spits the words.

  When his phone rings, he checks the screen. He declines the call and mutters a curse.

  “Did something happen?” I ask, not liking this other side of him, this reckless, almost angry side and feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

  My mind drifts to Stefan. To how he took care of me the other night. But I give it a shake.

  It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m perfectly safe with Rafa.

  I watch the turquoise sea as we drive, and he’s right that it is beautiful. Pristine, because somehow, when the rest of Italy was being overrun by tourists, Sicily has managed to remain unspoiled.

  Rafa again plays with the radio but he doesn’t sing along this time.

  The next time his phone rings, I see who it is before he snatches it up.

  Clara.

  Rafa gives me a strange look, swiping the screen and answering. Their conversation is short, like she’s annoyed and I already know he’s annoyed. I keep my gaze forward, pretending not to listen or at least pretending not to understand.

  They talk for a few more minutes before he tells her he’ll come by next week and to be patient. Everything will work out. And that he misses her too.

  I don’t know why I think it’s a strange conversation. I wonder where she is. I thought the three of them were like the Three Musketeers. At least that’s the impression I’d gotten.

  When he hangs up, he turns to me. “She’s bored. Stefan shipped her off.”

  “Shipped her off? Where to?”

  “Syracuse.”

  “New York?”

  He shakes his head. “Sicily.”

  “Why?”

  Rafa glances at me, gives me a strange look. “Don’t you know?”

  I shake my head.

  “You,” he says one corner of his mouth curving upward.

  “Me? Why me?”

  He opens his mouth to answer when he shifts his gaze to the rear-view mirror and a look of alarm flashes across his face.

  “Assholes!” he curses, and I hold on when he hits the gas as two cars pull up, one on either side of our SUV. I don’t recognize the cars or the men from the restaurant. These aren’t SUVs, which is all Stefan seems to have, and these vehicles are not in the best shape. The drivers are also younger, dirtier looking. Like if you ran into one on a dark street, you’d get the hell out of there.

  Music plays loudly, spilling through their open windows and penetrating our closed ones.

  “Rafa?” I ask, panic in my voice when the driver of the car next to mine meets my eyes and gives me a smirk before hitting the gas hard as he steers his car into ours. Metal screams against metal, and I scream too as my door dents and we drive like this, the two cars sandwiching us as Rafa speeds up too, cursing up a storm.

  “Hold on!” he yells, simultaneous to slamming his breaks.

  I scream again.

  My seatbelt catches me as my head rolls forward, then crashes down against the dashboard as the SUV swerves, cars honking their horns at us and Rafa spitting curses at the two driving off. One of them flips us off as they disappear and, a moment later, Rafa picks up speed again, turning the car back onto the road.

  “You all right?” he asks as we resume our drive.

  “What was that? Who were they?”

  “Just a couple of punks,” he says, but I know they’re not punks and I know he knows it too. “Shit,” he says, shifting his gaze to my forehead where I feel something warm.

  I reach up, touch it and my fingers come away bloody. I pull down the visor and look in the mirror at the cut that’s bleeding heavily.

  “It’s all right,” he says, eyes shifting from me to the road and back. “It looks worse than it is. Heads bleed a lot.”

  I guess he’d know.

  “Here,” he says. He reaches over, opens the glove compartment. He pulls out a handful of tissues and hands them to me.

  I take them, put them to the cut to stop the bleeding.

  “Are you okay?” he asks again.

  I turn to him “Who were they, Rafa?”

  “Punks. I told you. I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.”

  “We could have been killed.”

  “That wasn’t meant to kill us.”

  “Then what was it meant to do?”

  He looks over at me and just then, his phone rings. I see it’s Stefan.

  His forehead furrows, the worried expression making him look older. He declines the call, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

  When I open my mouth to ask a question, he turns up the radio and I shut up, shifting my gaze out the window, trying to calm my heartbeat as I keep pressure on the cut to stop the bleeding.

  I spend the rest of the ride watching the sun set, then the sky darken. He takes a different road home and it takes us longer to get back. We finally pull through the gates of Stefan’s house two long, silent hours later. Well, silent except for when Rafa was making angry phone calls.

  I never thought I’d be glad to be back here, and I can feel the panic quelled just beneath the surface. I need to process what just happened because the longer I sit here, the more I know those guys weren’t just punks. They meant business. And they did target us.

  When we pull up to the front doors, Rafa kills the engine, but when I reach to open my door, he captures my arm.

  His grip is surprisingly hard. He must realize it when I meet his gaze because he softens his hold.

  “Gabriela,” he says, looking like he did that first morning when he’d taken me jogging.

  I don’t say anything but wait for him to continue.

  “I need you to do something for me. Or, more precisely, not do something.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to not mention what happened to Stefan.”

  I study him, wonder about his motives, wonder how I can not mention this to Stefan.

  “Actually,” he laughs almost nervously. “It may be better not to tell him I took you at all.”

  “You want me to lie to him?”

  “Just don’t talk about it. You won’t have to lie.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’ll be pissed I took you without protection. And he’d be right.” He gestures to my forehead.

  I touch it, feel how some tissue has stuck to the dried blood.

  “And he probably won’t let you out of his sight. Or at least not with me.”

  “He’ll want to know how I got this.”

  “You tripped. Walked into a wall maybe.” He touches
it gently. “It’s not too bad. Once you clean it, it’ll barely be noticeable.”

  “He doesn’t miss anything, Rafa. Don’t you know that about him?”

  “Listen, it’s up to you. I’m just asking for both our sakes.”

  Is he afraid of Stefan? Do I care? I know I don’t want to be a prisoner here. And I could use an ally even if that ally is Rafa. My options are limited.

  “I won’t say anything.”

  He smiles, seeming relaxed again. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

  “See you,” I say, and climb out of the car to head inside.

  24

  Stefan

  Alex Romano was more forthcoming than I thought he would be. But I guess if you don’t have anything to hide, it’s not that hard.

  I understand now why he did what he did for Gabriela. Why he was willing to risk his life for her. I get why he felt he owed her and believe fully that they’re like brother and sister.

  What I don’t understand is why Marchese didn’t kill him outright when he caught him helping Gabriela run away. I wonder how much Gabriela had to do with that. Maybe he couldn’t afford to lose another kid.

  It’s early evening when I arrive back at the house from my trip to Rome. I have a message to call Matt Lawrence back. He’s apparently dug up a little more information on Gabriela’s mother’s drowning.

  A smiling Millie approaches as I take off my suit jacket. I hand it to her when she stretches her arm out for it.

  “Welcome home, Stefan,” she says.

  “Thanks, Millie.” I look beyond her out to the patio but it’s empty. “How are things here?”

  “Oh, fine,” she starts telling me about something in the kitchen but I interrupt.

  “Where’s Gabriela?” I ask. I don’t care about anything else.

  “In her room. She was out by the pool earlier though.”

  “Swimming?”

  “No. Reading.”

  “What else did she do?”

  “Not much. I think she’s bored, actually. It may be a good idea to get her out.”

  I nod. I agree, actually. “That is a good idea. I have to make a call but have her get dressed to go to Palermo for dinner.”