The Dictator (Banker 2)

“No.”

“Does anyone come and go without being vetted?”

I stared at my plate of half-eaten food. “No. Even the staff does the same security checks. The only person who actually lives here is Giovanni…” My eyes focused on the pink fillet in front of me, and that’s when an idea hit me. “Giovanni goes to the store every day…he says he only uses the freshest ingredients for all his meals.”

“Your point?”

“He’s the only person who leaves without being checked. He has his own car.”

Landon rubbed his hand across his chin. “I think you’re onto something. Is his car in the garage?”

“It must be. There are never cars in the roundabout, except the one that picks up Cato and drops him off.” My heart started to beat with excitement. This plan just might work. There was a possibility I could fool Cato and get out of there without him noticing for eight hours.

“If you could get into the trunk before he leaves, this could happen. When he puts the groceries in the back, you could kill him. I’ll be waiting for you, so you’ll hop into my car and we’ll take off.”

“Whoa, back up.” I held up my hand. “I’m not killing Giovanni.”

“If he lives here, then Cato trusts him the most. He’s the person you need to be most concerned about. If you just knock him out, he’ll only be unconscious for a few hours. Then he’ll call Cato. We need as much time as possible.”

I didn’t care how necessary it was. “Landon, let me save you some time. I won’t do it.”

Landon sighed like a bull, his nostrils flaring.

“I’ll tie him up and leave him in the back seat of the car. When Cato gets home, he’ll realize Giovanni is missing. When he does, the grocery store is the first place he’ll look. Problem solved.”

“Unless someone sees you tie up an old man.”

“He probably goes to the store in the morning, so there won’t be many witnesses.”

“This is still a bad idea.”

“And you think killing him will be less obvious?” I snapped.

“I don’t know, alright? But we have to make sure we do this right. This is the most critical step in the entire plan.”

“Giovanni and I have a good relationship. I’m sure he’ll understand—”

“You can’t trust him, Siena. He’s loyal to the man who pays his bills, not you.”

“But he’s very fond of me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You aren’t paying his bills. He may not want to rat you out, but he will. Losing his life over you isn’t worth it. This is about survival. Do what you have to do. He’ll do what he has to do.”

I knew I had to escape, and that meant I couldn’t let Giovanni ruin my plan. If I had to tie him up in the back seat and cover him with a blanket, I would. If I told him what was going on, he probably wouldn’t struggle. And under no circumstances would I kill him. There were some people I would murder in a heartbeat—like Damien. But Giovanni was too good to be the victim of a bad situation. “Alright.

“Do you know Cato’s schedule?”

“No. He’s all over the place. But even if he is home, he doesn’t visit me until after two.”

“But if Giovanni doesn’t return by lunchtime, he’ll know something is wrong.”

“Yeah…”

“You’ll have to make sure you do it on a day he’ll be in Florence.”

“I agree.”

“Wait until that moment comes. When it does, leave everything behind. It’ll be too suspicious if you’re walking around the house with a bag. Text me and ask me if I want to come over for lunch the next day. That will be your code to me that the plan is happening. I’ll wait for you at the grocery store. I won’t text back just in case your phone goes off.”

“Okay.” God, this was really happening. I was really going to make a run for it. Like a lamb, I was going to run from the big bad wolf and hope he didn’t catch me. If this plan worked out smoothly, I might have a real chance.

Or it may be only a matter of time before he caught up with me.

It could be weeks. Months. Or it could be hours.

I was about to find out.

16

Cato

I sat in my living room going over paperwork on my lap. Ever since that shit with the Siberians happened, business had picked up. People respected the way I handled my enemies, and they also respected the way I protected my money. If men wanted to keep their money safe, putting it in my hands was the best decision.

Because I was the only one with enough balls to protect it.

The TV was on in the background, but I didn’t pay attention to it. The news was on, and of course, the media only reported the boring crimes and homicides they were allowed to cover. The heavy shit never made it on the news—unless they wanted to die.