“Franks works security. Essentially, he’s a bouncer. He works the door when he’s scheduled, but like Clay Pierson, he trained under Emilio and Enzo,” Stefano provided.
Vittorio handed his coffee cup to Taviano, who had risen, and pointed toward the kitchen where the espresso machine was. He needed to hear everything being said, but he wanted to be at the hospital. He’d promised Grace he would be there when she woke up, and he was determined to make that happen.
He was going on forty-eight hours without sleep and he needed to crash soon. Giovanni, Sasha, Taviano and Ricco had gone to Los Angeles in their private jet. He’d taken the shadows to the airport, secretly entering the plane right under the noses of the paparazzi. Once in Los Angeles, his brothers and sister-in-law headed to the nearest nightclub with their LA cousins to party the night away. Being out in the open like that, getting photographed dancing and drinking, gave their cousins alibis just in case anyone ever suspected them of wrongdoing. No one had any idea that Vittorio was in Los Angeles. As far as they knew, he was still at home in Chicago, nowhere near the city in California.
“What about the waitress or bartender?” Sasha asked. She had worked at the club as a top-tier waitress.
Giovanni shook his head. “If someone is on the two top tiers, they were already vetted. We’ve never given that kind of responsibility to a bartender or waitress.”
“Only management and security have that level of authority,” Vittorio said. He rubbed his chest again. His muscles ached, right over his heart. “Still, one would think they would have questioned it. I’m going to have to get back to Grace soon. I don’t want her to wake up without me being there.” He took the latte Taviano handed to him, grateful for the caffeine when he felt like he was running on empty.
Stefano nodded his understanding. “Let’s get back to Grace. She’s the main concern right now.”
Vittorio nodded. “Rosina has dug up quite a bit on her. I don’t know how she escaped our notice until now. Because she worked for Katie Branscomb, she was in our circles. We didn’t have her on our radar, but she was on someone’s. That person is either part of or connected to the Saldi family, and Miceli or Giuseppi owe him.”
“Is she safe in the hospital?” Francesca asked. “I’d rather she be in one of our homes and the doctor come to her.”
“He’ll come to her, baby,” Stefano said. “Just right now, they don’t want to move her.”
“I’ve got bodyguards on her,” Vittorio assured. “And I’ll be with her most of the time. I’m planning on taking her home with me when they let her out of the hospital. She wouldn’t get any care at her apartment and with me, she’ll have everything she needs for rehabilitation.”
Stefano sent him a quick grin. “Nice move, brother. Get in good while she’s down.”
Francesca rolled her eyes. “You’re so bad, Stefano, although, in this case I have to agree, it’s good to bring Grace home with you, Vittorio. From what Stefano said, it doesn’t sound like she’d have anyone to look after her.”
“Does that answer the question of whether or not you think it’s over for her? Or do you think someone is going to make another try for her?” Mariko asked. “Do you really think the Saldi family would start a war with us over her?”
Vittorio shrugged and sipped the hot latte to give himself time to choose his words carefully. He detested hurting Emme, and any mention of a war between the families was going to break her heart. “If Grace was the specific target, and it sounded like she was, then yes, I think she’s still in danger. We just don’t know where that danger is going to come from, and like Stefano says, we’ll handle this carefully. The right way. Although, having said that, I want to hunt Haydon down and find out what he has to say before—” He broke off and shrugged again.
Stefano glanced at him sharply but didn’t say anything.
Ricco put down his latte and looked straight into Vittorio’s eyes. “I think it’s safe to say, we’re all feeling the same way, Vittorio. Not just because she’s your woman, but because she’s a woman. She could have been anyone. Had you not gone to the club, we wouldn’t have known they were using it to conduct their business.”
“They were definitely thumbing their noses at us,” Taviano agreed.
“Maybe,” Stefano said. “But we all agree we don’t do anything stupid. We treat this the way we would any job.” His gaze touched Vittorio’s, making his point. “We investigate, and we call in our cousins from New York to dispense justice. The cops are all over this one. We’re going to have to have alibis at all times and make certain we can publicly account for every minute of the day. When dead bodies start turning up, we don’t want to be in any way associated with them. Since this started at our club with Vittorio’s fiancée, the best-kept secret of all time, we will be scrutinized.”
Vittorio knew Stefano was right, but it didn’t sit well with him to have Grace in danger while he did nothing about it. He knew that would be impossible for him. His brothers knew it as well. Only Sasha and Francesca, the two non-riders, would believe what Stefano was saying, and were assured by his statement that no one there would do anything rash—like find Haydon and kill him. Vittorio was hoping his own intentions weren’t stamped on his forehead for the world to see—because he was definitely going after that asshole and taking him out permanently.
Maybe he should feel some sympathy for Haydon, because for Grace to love him so much, he must have been a decent human being at one time, but Vittorio didn’t. Grace had gone through the same things Haydon had, although from what Rigina had uncovered so far, Haydon had tried to protect Grace and taken the brunt of the abuse. Still, from everything the investigators had found in the short time they’d had, she remained a decent, hardworking, honorable human being. One who gave way too much love and loyalty to a douchebag who deserved neither.
“We’re going to be scrutinized by the press,” Ricco said. “No one has caught a glimpse of Vittorio with Grace. Were they at any event at the same time? We need to start building a plausible story for them.”
Emme nodded. “I’m on that already. Rigina has helped me, sending all the charity events Vittorio went to in the past year and a half.” She looked up at him. “You attended thirteen large and well-publicized events as well as three smaller ones. Four were for brain traumas, six for cancer research, three for women’s shelters and the three smaller ones were to raise money for rescues for animals. Eloisa put on most of the bigger events.”
“Animals?” Giovanni said. “When did you do that, Vittorio?”
Vittorio flipped him off.
Sasha looked up at her husband. “Giovanni, are you giving your brother a hard time when you just this morning told me about the horse rescue—”
Giovanni wrapped his hand around his wife’s mouth, laughing, his eyes dancing. “Not the time, woman. What are you thinking?”
Vittorio found himself laughing along with his brothers and the women seated at the breakfast table. That was how they were together. Discussing business one minute, and then erupting into laughter together the next. He wanted that for Grace. According to everything Rosina was sending to him, she’d never had a family—well, except that loser Haydon. Vittorio could, at least, provide that for her. He had no idea if it would be enough to balance out living with him.