“No, Violetta.” I can’t believe she’d say getting pregnant was a mistake.
“I mean the promise. One, because I keep them.” More annoyed than betrayed, she jerks her chin at the glass door where Santino enjoys his smoke. “Two, because I’m hamstrung here. I’m not supposed to go, and I don’t want him going alone against all of them.”
“I can go!” I actually do jump out of my chair then.
Her eyes narrow with suspicion—that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “What do you think you’re going to do if it gets messy?”
“Whatever you were going to do. I can shoot. I can drive. I can make phone calls.” I can shut up too, because I sound like an idiot. “What’s one extra person supposed to do against all of them anyway… unless it’s me?” That’s the way. Now I know how to get what I want. With a burst of excited energy, I pick up the cups and take them to the sink. “Anyone else is just another body in the way. But they know me. I grew up with half the guys who probably went down there. I know them. I know their women. I can talk to Massimo. I’m not saying you can’t talk to him, but I mean… you know I’ll be better at it.”
“She’s right.” Santino’s at the door, poking at his phone before pocketing it. “We’re leaving in five minutes. Do you have a passport?”
“No.” I’m flummoxed. “There was someone coming to make me one but…”
“That takes too long.” He shakes his head slowly.
“I’m already packed,” I protest. “It’ll take less than a second to get my bag.” I remember the last place I put my bags. All I can do is hope they’re still there.
“Sorry, Sarah,” Violetta says. “It’s for the best.”
“I’m going to him! I don’t even know what a passport is for and I don’t care.”
Like a petulant child, I storm out of the room and into the garage. I made a booboo staying here and letting Dario get killed or captured and I have a change to make it right. They’re not leaving without me.
I pop the trunk of the Skylark. The roller bag Oria packed for me once, and I unpacked and packed again, is sitting inside. I yank it out and slam the trunk closed. I set it on its wheels and pull up the handle. The front pocket is unzipped, and as I go to close it, I see the folded envelope inside.
Oria handed me the envelope when she was trying to get me to leave.
Passport and first-class tickets. He bought them the day before your wedding… Just show up and they’ll get you on a flight. Easy.
I open the envelope, hands shaking.
Santino appears in the doorway.
“Signora Lucari.” He has the manner of a man in a hurry wasting precious seconds being respectful. “If you try to cross into another country without a passport, they’ll detain us.”
I hold up the blue booklet and the plane ticket. “You can take me, or I can go myself.”
CHAPTER 34
SARAH
I’ve never thrown up as much as I threw up on the flight to St. Eustatius. Not even the time the school lunch was bad tuna fish sandwiches and the entire cohort tried to get into the bathroom at the same time. Mandy took off her left shoe and threw up into it. Two students took turns at the garbage pail while Miss Tambieri threw up into her desk drawer.
I’m the first daughter, so I got to puke into a toilet. I didn’t appreciate the privilege at the time.
On the private jet, I was no one, but I was on my first plane flight, with Santino DiLustro, a few of his guys, and his pregnant wife, who held back my hair. Santino, at the last minute, decided he couldn’t leave her behind. He needed her. She’s too useful—and so am I. Once I finished throwing up.
Six hours later, I’m in the back seat of a black car, coursing across the island behind another car with Santino and the men, and in front of another car with his security guys. Santino got three local drivers at the airport, then rented their cars from them for a stack of cash. There’s a lot to knowing how the cogs of the world work, and money is the lubricant.
I’m not motion sick anymore, but not anticipating what we’re driving up to is making me a little queasy.
Did we beat Dario here? Did he beat my brother and all his men?
Are the Colonia holding the women? Are they already on the way to New York?
Did Dario follow them?
I just want him to be alive. That’s all. I can pray for success later.
The setting sun glints off a brass gate. A plaque is bolted to the stone pillar.
SAPPHIRE BEACH RESORT AT SAINT EUSTATIUS
“Looks pretty classy,” Violetta says, watching Santino get out and try the gate. It opens. He looks at our car, through the tinted windows, at his wife. “That’s not right.”
“That it’s open?”
“Yeah.”
Santino swaggers to the side window. Violetta rolls it down. I blink hard. The tinting had hidden the brightness of the world.
“You’re staying here while we go in,” he says.
“Fine.” She answers with more than a hint of reluctance.
“If anything happens, you duck. Stay out of the way. Let Carlo take care of it.”
The car behind us passes and gets ready to cross the gate.
“I got it, boss,” the driver, Carlo, says.
“Yes, Santi.” Violetta plays at sweet obedience.
“I mean it, Forzetta.” Santino looks at me. “You got it?”
“I got it.”
Unlike his wife, I mean it. I’m not lying. I can make a promise in ignorance, but I can’t be expected to keep it if ever I know better.
When they go through the gate, Carlo pulls the car off the road.
Violetta sighs and crosses her arms over her belly. “I hate this.”
“It’s the right thing.”
“I know,” she says. “Believe me, if I didn’t agree with him, I’d be in there right now.”
“Me too.”
I’d be running in front, calling Dario’s name, throwing open doors burning down buildings to flush him out.
“It’s so quiet,” I say after five minutes without a word, and I know she understands me.
It’s not quiet at all. Between the rustle and crack of leaves and the caw of birds I cannot visualize as any smaller than a sedan, it’s louder than Manhattan. But there are no gunshots from the resort. No engines rumbling. No shouts or cries. It doesn’t even sound like a resort, which… I don’t know what a resort sounds like, but it has to sound more fun than this.
My palms are soaked. I rub them on my pants.
If Dario’s in there and there’s a problem, someone’s making a decision about whether he lives or dies. Someone’s choosing between two bad options.
Time keeps passing. Nothing changes. More time.
I can’t let this happen without me. He’s my husband. He’s the love of my life. These are my decisions.
“I’m going in,” I whisper, putting a sweaty hand on the door handle.
“Be patient.”
“With all due respect.” My voice is so low she has to lean inches from my face. “I know Santino can handle himself, but you don’t know my people. You don’t know what they’ll do to him if he gets in their way.” I pause, looking her in the eye. “I do.”