“I’m not going to kill him outright,” I explain, not sure even that will ease her mind. “I’m going today to get permission from Spada.”
“Permission to kill him?” Her eyes are wide again.
“Yeah. It’s the way it’s done. That’s why I let him hit me first last night. He attacked me. Now I have a case. Next step—I go to Spada. He gives me permission, I take Sal out—chances are good Spada makes me his second.”
She shrinks away from me a little. “That’s what this is all about? You’re planning to kill a man for a promotion?”
I can see how that might seem a little unpleasant. “That’s not all it is, Sarah. This is part of protecting you. He’s not going to forget what I did to him. I made him look like an idiot in front of his men. In front of everybody. He’s not going to stop coming after you. I kill him, you’re safe, and you’re mine. Plain and simple.”
She’s silent for a long few seconds. Then, finally, she nods. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it.” I pull her against me, stroking her hair, trying to take some of the sting out of my words. She lets me hold her. “I don’t have to like it, either. It’s just the way it is, and it’s the best way for me to keep you safe.” Kissing the top of her head, I breathe in her scent. “Now, I’ve got to get going, so how about I treat you to breakfast before I head off?”
She looks at me like she thinks she might never see me again. Then she nods and gets up to get dressed.
#
I’m feeling pretty damn sure of myself by the time I arrive at the restaurant where Spada told me to meet him. I’d gotten the impression it would be a mostly informal lunch, me airing my grievances, him listening and then granting me free rein in regard to Sal. When I get there, though, I’m escorted to a reserved room in the back, much larger than what would be necessary for just Spada and I to talk.
Sure enough, there’s a big table in the back room, and there are about a half dozen of his men occupying the seats. And, sitting right next to Spada…
Sal comes to his feet just as I walk into the room, obviously as taken aback by my presence as I am by his. Before I can quite process the fact he’s here, Sal’s in my face, fists up. I’m barely able to move fast enough to duck the blow he swings at me. Behind him, Spada comes to his feet as well.
“The fuck, De Luca!” I grab his forearm as he tries to hit me again.
“It’s over, Angelino,” Sal snarls back. “You’re going to pay for what you did.”
I twist his arm behind his back and focus on Spada. “What the fuck is this? You didn’t say anything about him being here.”
Spada stands, calm. Behind him, a couple of his men also come to their feet, the bulge of firearms clear beneath their suit jackets.
“Both of you, sit,” Spada says.
I don’t want to, but with it being a direct order, I don’t have much choice. I shoot Sal one last glare then take the seat Spada waves me to. At least he doesn’t sit Sal down right next to me.
“Now,” Spada starts when Sal and I have both taken our seats, “I’m tired of this bullshit.”
Again, not what I was expecting. Trying not to look angry or, worse, sullen, I lean into the table and wait for him to continue. Sal looks like he’s on the verge of a full-fledged pout. I clench one fist under the table, the other hand loose on top of it as I try to maintain my composure.
Spada never loses his. He smoothes his tie and regards both of us evenly. “You, Angelino, are asking for my blessings to eliminate De Luca because he attacked you, am I correct?”
“Yes,” I answer steadily.
“And you, De Luca, want permission to eliminate Angelino because, what? He stole your girlfriend?”
“My fiancée,” Sal snaps back. “He kidnapped her from our engagement party.”
Spada turns to me. “Is this true, Angelino?”
“She came of her own accord.” I give Sal a smug grin. “No kidnapping required.”
“You motherfucking piece of shit,” Sal growls back, then Spada lifts a hand.
“I said enough.” One of his men has laid a hand on the butt of his gun. Spada gives him a meaningful look, and the man lowers his hand with a slight nod. Spada turns back to Sal and me. “Angelino, I understand your case, but there’s no way in hell you’re killing De Luca.”
“Sir—”
“No. That’s my final word on the subject. Sal makes too much of a profit for this organization for me to allow you to end him over this petty bullshit. So he hit you. Man up and get over it. And you…” He swings toward Sal, who’s building up a smirk of his own. “If you can’t keep your own woman under control then you deserve to lose her.”