Slowly exhaling, Francesca shakes her head, looking down at her pancakes. She isn’t eating anymore, but she hasn’t pushed her plate away. “That was an insane thing to do, Salvatore.”
I shrug. “How else would I ever know?”
“And what did he say?”
“Wasn’t him. Wasn’t his crew. It was a skeleton crew hired, all of them believing they worked for Delmonico, because we all know if an operation like this was going down under your brother’s command, he’d be the guy handling it.”
She nods her agreement, but she’s lost in thought. Maybe I shouldn’t weigh her down with all this shit.
“Anyway, Adrian said he’d help me out and if he stumbled across any information, he’d toss it my way. He found some information about Tito, the guy we think actually was behind what happened to Willow. I’ve got people looking into it now, but so far he hasn’t turned up. The new information hasn’t helped. But Adrian’s still keeping his ear to the ground in case he hears anything.”
Now she pushes her plate to the center of the table, anxiously running her hands over her face. “Sal, just because Mateo says he’s not involved doesn’t mean it’s true. My brother lies.”
“I know that. I believe him on this, though.”
She shakes her head, almost like she wants to argue with me—which she shouldn’t. Obviously she doesn’t want me at odds with her brother. “Getting Adrian involved is exactly something he would do to throw you off his scent. If Adrian helps you, he can easily convince you it’s someone else, even if it wasn’t. Oh, my god.”
“No, Francesca, it’s fine. I wasn’t sharing this to freak you out. It wasn’t Mateo.”
“No, it was his fucking henchman,” she says sharply. “This is exactly the kind of thing he does.”
Since she’s ready to go on an anti-Mateo tirade, I reach across the table and grab her hand, giving it a reassuring rub. “I know, Francesca. But it wasn’t him. I paid attention when I told him, plus it just doesn’t make sense. That’s why I went to him to begin with. My dad’s the one who has a problem with Mateo, not the other way around. Why would Mateo strike out like that, when he wants peace? Not to mention, he has a daughter. I don’t think he’d just randomly go after my dad’s teenage daughter to start a fight he doesn’t even want.”
“I hope you’re right,” she says, shaking her head.
“I am. It wasn’t your brother. He only acts with intent. This would’ve been a foolish thing to do, and your brother isn’t foolish.”
“God. Is your sister okay? Do you know where she was kept? Is it possible Delmonico went rogue? Is there anything in it for him? He reports back to Dante more than Mateo. Even Mateo prefers to delegate that shit. Could Dante want Mateo thrown under the bus? Dante gets control of the family if anyone ever kills Mateo.”
I have to frown at this. I can’t say I considered that. I immediately discarded the idea that Delmonico would’ve acted without Mateo’s permission, on the basis that Mateo would never fucking tolerate something like that. If there was a coup though, and Dante wanted Mateo taken out, baiting my dad—who already hates him—would be a damn good first step.
“Huh.” Still frowning, I look up at Francesca. “You know, I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?” Her eyes are alight with interest. She is way more into this than I expected. Maybe there’s a bit of Morelli blood in her veins, after all. “I mean, safely. Obviously don’t stick your nose into anything, but you could bring it to Adrian. He’ll look into it on his own. If there’s a threat to Mateo and you’re the one who helps uncover it, my brother will feel indebted to you.”
Ah, now I see why she’s so excited. Suddenly I’m smiling, grabbing my orange juice for another drink. “That would solve half our problem, wouldn’t it?”
“It might,” she says brightly. “Like you said, my brother wants things to be civil between you. Find a traitor in his midst and earn yourself some brownie points.”
It wouldn’t do a damn thing to solve the bigger problem—my father—but she looks so damn excited, I can’t bring myself to point it out.
Chapter Twelve
As happy as I wanna be to be back in Chicago, saying goodbye to Francesca is the worst part of my day. I got spoiled with over 24 hours of nonstop Francesca. I already want to see her later, so I suggest a late dinner, but she says no. Since she disappeared yesterday, she has to show up for dinner tonight so as not to arouse suspicion. She’s right; I just don’t want her to be. I don’t want it to be early afternoon and already know the soonest I’ll see her again is tomorrow night.