The rescue boat arrived, divers leaping into the cold water. Long seconds passed as they worked beneath the surface. Then their heads broke the water and they lifted a limp body out of the waves.
“Nico!”
He started forward, intent on rushing to the pier where the rescue boat would dock, but two firm hands held him back.
“Wait, Giacomo. Give them room to work.”
He struggled briefly against Jeffrey’s hold, unable to break it, then froze as the meaning caught up with his stunned brain. Jeffrey was strong enough to grip both of his arms. He was strong enough to drive his boat.
“You knew. You knew there was something wrong with your boat and you let my brother drive it.”
Jeffrey released him, stepping back. “There was nothing wrong with my boat. Nico took the turn too fast.”
Giacomo growled but didn’t want to waste time debating with him. He turned and ran to the pier, forcing his way through the crowd with a mixture of apologies and curses. The leisurely pace of the rescue boat as it tied up to the dock told the tale but he refused to give up hope until they carried Nico’s lifeless body ashore, the unnatural angle of his head bearing mute testimony to the cause of death.
Tears streamed down Giacomo’s cheeks as he fought his way to where the race doctor was declaring Nico officially dead. Grasping his brother’s cold hand in his, Giacomo fell to his knees. For the last five years since their parents’ deaths, Giacomo had cared for Nico like a father as well as a brother. He’d done his best but he’d failed. Silently, he vowed not to fail his last task for Nico—vengeance.
His brother’s funeral was held at their family estate outside of Palermo with Nico’s final resting place in the private cemetery overlooking the ocean. Giacomo hoped the view would give his brother’s spirit joy. It was the least he could do for him.
Jeffrey had the prudence to stay away, but many other racers came to pay their respects. Nico had been well-liked and his fellow racers mourned his death as a tragic accident.
They didn’t know what Giacomo did. After the mourners left, he knelt in the newly turned earth of Nico’s grave and swore again that he would see the man responsible brought to justice.
But as days turned into weeks, it seemed he was destined to fail his younger brother in this as well. The officials ruled that the cause of Nico’s accident was unsafe speed around the corner, helped by the many witnesses who’d heard Nico’s hotheaded declarations that he would beat Valente in their next match, whatever the cost. Giacomo’s warnings about the boat’s rough riding during the first heat and Jeffrey’s feigned injury were dismissed as the rantings of a grieving brother, especially since Jeffrey received his injury saving John Michaelson’s life. Yet when Jeffrey announced his plans to build another boat and continue racing, only Giacomo found it suspicious that he was abandoning his last design and building one similar to an older boat. Surely that indicated he knew the design was flawed!
Giacomo tried once more to confront Jeffrey, needing to prove to himself that the man had known of his boat’s flawed design during the race when he let Nico drive it, rather than discovering the flaw after he’d had a chance to reflect on the accident. He waylaid him as Jeffrey escorted his wife and young son to a matinee theater performance.
“You go ahead,” Jeffrey told his wife. “I’ll be there before the curtain goes up. This won’t take long.”
As soon as she was out of earshot, Giacomo asked, “Tell me the truth, Jeffrey. We both know your boat had a design flaw. But did you know that when you let Nico drive it?”
“I told you, there was nothing wrong with the boat. Nico was just driving too fast.” He looked away, his attention on his wife and son who waited on the steps to the theater. “I’m sorry he’s dead but there wasn’t anything I could have done to prevent his accident.”
Giacomo’s blood turned as cold as the frigid Atlantic water. Years of high stakes gambling had made him an expert at reading body language. Jeffrey was lying. And he was going to get away with it. “This isn’t over.”
Jeffrey looked back at him, annoyance compressing his already thin lips to a faint line. “Yes, it is. The investigation is officially closed. The accident was your brother’s fault. It doesn’t matter what you think happened. The boat’s been scrapped and your brother’s buried. Put it behind you and move on.”
He shouldered past, striding quickly to catch up to his wife and child. They were too far away for Giacomo to hear what Jeffrey said but his wife glanced back, frowning. Giacomo glared at her. Jeffrey was the one in the wrong, not him. Jeffrey was the one who needed to pay for Nico’s death. Only then would Giacomo be able to move on.
That night he put his plans in place. He slipped onto Jeffrey’s cruiser where it was tied up at the dock, opened the engine compartment and carefully nicked the fuel line, just enough to let gas vapors escape. After making sure that all the doors and windows of the cabin were closed, he slipped back to the dock then walked quickly to where the Bravetti boat was moored. He spent the rest of the sleepless night surrounded by Nico’s possessions, his brother’s memory reassuring him that he was doing the right thing by destroying Jeffrey’s other boat.
The sunlight spearing through the cabin’s windows roused him from his dark reflections. Voices drifted on the early morning air as engines coughed and growled, heading out for a full day of fun on the water. Hearing Jeffrey’s voice, Giacomo hurried onto the deck.
Jeffrey had thrown open the door of his cruiser then turned back to call further directions to his family. His wife was wearing a blue halter-top, white shorts and a broad-brimmed white hat, a blue and white beach bag over one shoulder. Their son trailed behind her in navy blue swimming trunks and an orange-and-blue-striped polo shirt.
Giacomo’s stomach churned, his throat tightening so that his shout of “No!” was barely a squawk. Jumping to the dock, he raced toward Jeffrey’s boat. Jeffrey had already disappeared inside the cabin.
“No!” he shouted again. This tim
e his voice carried.
Jeffrey’s wife grabbed her son’s hand and began hurrying him to their boat, no doubt trying to get the boy away from the madman her husband had warned her about.
He reached the boat just before she did. Ripping her son from her grasp, he threw the boy into the water on the other side of the dock. Grabbing her around the waist, he tried to toss her after her son. She kicked and clawed at his arms.
“What are you—?”
Jeffrey turned the ignition, cutting off her words in a ball of fire as the boat exploded. A wall of heat and sound swept over Giacomo, followed a moment later by pain more intense than any he’d ever experienced. The world went black.