Rushed(116)

Carmen gave me a look, then shrugged and finished up her massage. "There you go."



Getting home, I parked in the rear of the line of cars we owned to give myself extra motivation to move. Maybe it was only another fifty feet or so, but that made a difference with my rehabilitation. I went in the side entrance of the house and closed the door behind me.

Jessie was the first person to see me, and she shook her head. "Sir, your father was looking for you, and he didn't seem to be in the best of moods."

"What's wrong?" I asked. "I mean, you look like you're scared witless."

"Your father . . . it's not good when he's in moods like this," Jessie whispered. "He's quiet."

Ah hell. When my father goes quiet, bad stuff starts happening to other people. I patted Jessie on the shoulder, smiling. "Okay. Let me handle this—thanks for the heads up. Where is he?"

"His study," Jessie said. "Be careful."

I nodded and went to my father's study, knocking on the door frame. "Dad? Everything okay?"

He was facing away from me, staring out the window when I knocked. At the sound of my voice, he turned, his face cloudy as his mouth was turned down in its most extreme frown. "Tomasso. Come in—sit down."

I swallowed the ball of spit that was stuck in my throat and made my way across to the desk, sitting down in the chair across from him, realizing that it put me lower than him, probably something he’d designed into the desk. Taking a few seconds, I arranged my cane as carefully as I could, trying to gather my thoughts. What the hell was going on? "What's up, Dad? You've got everyone around here frightened."

He turned around, setting his hands on the blotter. "I just had an interesting conversation with Guillermo Mendosa. Well, I will call it interesting because it's the only word I can think of to describe a fifty-year-old Brazilian man screaming at me uninterrupted for ten minutes non-stop in broken English and Portuguese, at the end of which I didn't know much more about what the hell was going on than when I started. "

I blinked, shocked. "What? What the hell is he upset about?"

"That's what I’d like to know," Dad said, leaning forward. "From the little bit that I was able to understand, he's pledging war on our family, and something about dishonoring him and his daughter. Care to tell me why?”

I blinked, shocked. "Uhm, not really. I mean, Luisa and I were intimate, but I figured everyone knew that by the time she left. And we've stayed in touch."

“What do you mean you’ve stayed in touch?” Dad asked.

I explained to him the emails and video chats we had, along with the bit about her father's feelings toward Americans and both of our past heartbreaks. He listened, his eyes tightening when he heard not only about Luisa's heartbreak, but mine as well. “I’ve heard enough. Let’s go.”

"To do what?" I asked, confused.

"To see if there’s a chance at peace,” Dad said, a half-smile on his face. “As pissed off as he sounded, I don’t think he wants war with us. No one would want that. Do you still have your passport?"

"Real or fake?" I asked. "Last I knew, both were still up to date."

Dad chuckled. "Fake, of course. I may be attempting to be a peacemaker, but I'm not going to fly into Brazil telling everyone that I'm coming. Lord only knows what the TSA and the FBI would have waiting for us when we got back."



I was shocked that Dad would personally go to Brazil, especially if Guillermo Mendosa wanted war. Harming my father would definitely make that happen.

By the time the sun went down, we were at King County Airport, getting out of my car while Pietro unloaded our bags out of the back and took them over to the Gulfstream G280 that my father had chartered. The flight crew took them and stowed them on board before Pietro turned and came back.

"Don Bertoli, it’s my duty to advise against this," he said when he returned. "Going to Brazil, just the two of you, on a chartered flight like this? You're going in unprepared and without backup."

I'd had the same thoughts, but I was so caught up in the whirlwind of the past few hours that I hadn't had time to voice them yet. Dad wouldn’t be deterred, however. "Pietro, you’re a good man and a good lieutenant. But this isn’t just Bertoli Family, but my family business. We’ll handle it alone—Guillermo Mendosa may be a boss, but he doesn’t have the balls to harm a Bertoli man on a peacekeeping mission. Now, while I'm gone, Margaret is in charge, okay?"

Aunt Margaret, who'd made the trip out to the airport along with Adriana and Daniel, looked on with concern. "Carlo, are you sure?"

He nodded. "Margaret, this is going to be like a vacation for me. It's been far too long, and I'm already feeling younger."

She sighed, then nodded. She glanced over at Adriana and Daniel, who nodded as well. "We'll be back in time for the wedding. Don't worry about that,” Dad said, clapping Daniel on the shoulder.

Dad got on the plane, and I exchanged hugs with Margaret and Adriana and shook hands with Daniel. "I expect you back for the bachelor party."

"I'll be there," I said, grinning. I turned and headed for the plane, stopping when Pietro stepped in front of me. "Pietro?"