So many things raced through my mind, including the endless pictures of the bloodshed caused by the Santoro brothers. Articles I had read flipped through my brain like a deck of cards. Small things popped out, like how the press always wondered if they were real brothers or not, and faces of those killed filled my mind with horror. I knew there was hardly any proof of anything, but there were a lot of accusations. Only bits and pieces that were fed to the press gave any hint of who was behind it.
I slumped to the floor, unsure how to process it all, and without even really thinking, I pulled up the airline and re-booked myself that ticket to New York.
Sienna: Sent you my info. See you tomorrow.
Wyatt: Oh, no. All right, see you soon.
My body felt like stone as I sat on the side of the bed and watched the numbers count up each hour. When it finally read five a.m., I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and quietly headed downstairs. I had texted Vinni twenty minutes ago with a bullshit story about work, and he was waiting in the kitchen, finishing off a pastry.
“Morning,” he murmured as he took my things and headed outside.
I was glad he wasn’t talkative today. I wasn’t in the mood and just wanted to get the hell out of there so I could breathe again.
“Sienna.” Dante came up holding up a to-go bag. “Something for the road.”
“Thank you. How sweet of you.” I gave him a hug. “I’ll see you soon,” I lied. Would I? I really had no idea.
“Let me walk you out.” He tossed his dish towel aside, and as we passed by the entryway table, I spotted my gold bracelet I had misplaced a while ago.
“Oh, my bracelet.” I slipped it on, happy that it had turned up. It was a favorite of mine.
“Pretty.” He smiled politely as he leaned forward and opened the car door for me. I waved at him through the window as we drove away, and I wondered when I would see him again.
“Music, Sienna?” Vinni asked, and I shook my head with a smile. He nodded in the mirror as I leaned my head back and thought about the journey ahead.
Two planes and a small layover later, I touched down on the JFK tarmac. Wyatt didn’t say much as he scooped me up in a bear hug and pointed to an Uber waiting outside for us. A little small talk on the ride about what was going on at his sister’s place soothed my achy head. I was glad we were such good friends. He totally got me. We’d always had an understanding about knowing when and where to discuss things. Once we arrived at his sister’s place and we were out by the lake sipping cocktails, he cleared his throat, and I knew it was time to fill him in.
“Well?” He addressed the subject with an arched eyebrow, daring me to fib.
“I called.” I used the straw to move the ice around in the frosted glass.
“And?”
“And he picked up.”
“Okay, we’re making progress here.” He dripped with sarcasm. “Now, did you take a breath or just hold it in?”
I shoved his shoulder, but when he tuned in to my stressed expression, he eased up.
“Sienna?”
“Elio picked up. Zazzero Santoro is Elio Capri.”
He stopped drinking and blinked at me while he processed.
“Yeah.” I nodded at his stunned expression. “That was my reaction, too. Although, add heartbreak, utter confusion, and a dash of pure terror, and that about sums up the moment.”
“Wait, so you called, and—”
“Hung up.”
“And then left with no explanation?”
“No, I told his cousin I had to go to New York for work.”
“Oh, that makes it better. Send the hit man to my sister’s place.”
“Please, Wyatt, tell me what I was supposed to do?” I tossed up my free hand.