He snorted and patted me on the arm. "I like your style, Kelan. I really do."
"Michael. My name is Michael."
His head tipped out of respect. "You know how to get ahold of me. Michael."
"I do." I breathed a sigh of relief at my decision. It felt right. Actually, it felt damn good. I was finally stepping up to the plate. I walked to the edge of the bed, adjusting the covers. "I'm right here, Pops. I'm not going anywhere. You can count on me."
I actually wished that he would open his eyes, maybe give me a nod of approval. There was no movement, no flutter of his eyelids. Just... silence.
Other than the damn machines.
Sighing, I headed toward the door. Time to establish the next course of action, which included talking to the family consiglieri. John Paul needed to be kept in the loop. He was a true man of honor, highly valuable to the family and at times, the only support my father had. I'd actually considered him more of a father when I was a boy, having spent the majority of my time at his house. How ironic everything had turned out to be.
A slight noise sounded from over my shoulder. Stopping short, I turned ever so slowly, my gaze locking on my father. His eyes were wide open, completely in focus and staring at me.
With utter fear and hatred in them.
I don't know what the hell my father expected. A bloodbath? I backed out of the room, not bothering to look Carlo in the eye, my blood boiling. "Make sure no one has access to his room other than hospital personnel. If they so much as look at my father funny, take care of the situation."
"Will do, boss."
The entire crew had taken to using the word, one I was beginning to loathe more and more. I took the stairs, refusing the suffocating feeling of the closed-in steel box. There was too much on my mind including what my ultimate goal would be with Francesca. Emerging from the side entrance, the boys were waiting with the SUV idling, prepared for a quick getaway, Rizzo keeping watch of the quiet side street. I scanned the perimeter before walking toward them, looking for any sign of unusual activity.
The neighborhood was fairly quiet, the hospital off the beaten path, chosen specifically with this sort of situation in mind. There was no information regarding either my father's whereabouts or the hospital he'd been taken to, the fake name used different from any he'd selected before. My father hadn't been admitted in the normal manner, meaning I could count the number of people had any idea about his true identity on one hand.
Yet every precaution in the world wouldn't ultimately be able to stop a hit once it was ordered. As I headed to the vehicle, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Dialing Vincenzo, I plastered my sunny side up smile on my face, keeping my tone light. I was surprised when he answered the phone. I'd done my homework. The happy couple had originally been booked on a flight to Fiji later this afternoon. Now I wanted to know just how much he was involved. "Vincenzo."
"What do you want?"
"I wanted to catch you before you left for the islands." I'd keep up the ploy as long as I was able. I heard a huff, even a garbled sound as if he'd placed his hand over his phone. "I wanted to confirm the premiere in Monte Carlo."
"Yeah, should be a good time. Are you actually planning on going? I thought you were far too busy to support the movie," Vincenzo barked into the phone.
He was definitely not going to let on that his fiancée had been taken right from under his nose. I grinned at Rizzo as he opened the back door, his eyes still scanning the almost empty street. "I think it's wise. The opening did well at the box office." I had no idea of the numbers, nor did I care.
"Two hundred and fifty-six million. The producers are happy. We're on track at this point. Shame you had to leave the party the other night. Spent some up close and personal time with your costar. She's truly... magnificent." He laughed, the pig, yet his words were stilted, selected carefully. I had no doubt he'd been coached. Louis Saltori wasn't a stupid man. By now, he'd have his own boys putting feelers out, looking for any crumbs.
"I had some personal business to attend to." The man was fishing. The banter was like a game of poker, but it was obvious he had no idea I'd taken the helm.
"You need a flight over for the premiere?" Vincenzo actually had the nerve to ask.
"Don't worry. I can get there all by myself. I'm a big boy." It was my turn to chuckle.
Vincenzo seemed hesitant. "Fine. Just make certain you find your way there, pretty boy." He ended the call abruptly. Whether he bought I had no knowledge of his situation or not remained to be seen. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I climbed in.
As Jax pulled the SUV away from the curb, he glanced into the rearview mirror. "Everything all right, boss? With your father, I mean."
"Everything is fine, Jax. We have one more stop to make. John Paul Valentino's house." I had a feeling the man would be expecting me. "Why don't you boys go out tonight, get a listen on the street. I want to know exactly what's being said and by whom."
"Sounds good. Can I just say that I'm glad you're back working with the family. Your dad talks about you a lot. Real proud of you."
I resisted bursting into laughter. Our worst arguments were usually about my poor choice in professions. "I appreciate that, Jax. Just drive the car."
"Yes, sir." The two shared a look of surprise at my harsh tone, something they weren't used to. Well, a hell of a lot of things were going to change.
I sat back against the leather as I thought about what to say to John Paul. I would need to form a plan within the next two days or things could get ugly. John Paul's advice was old school, but he deserved my utmost respect no matter what decision I made in the next few days. His house was the epitome of his particular tastes, the area fitting a man of his stature-Malibu. I'd adored swimming in his pool as a child. The thought was somehow sad.
I was frisked before being led inside the house, the security guards more like bouncers. I hadn't remembered him being this cautious, which meant he was afraid of the possibility of war.
As I walked into the man's office and library, I was surprised by his change in appearance. Ghastly white and frail, he had difficulty standing to greet me.
"Michael. It's so good to see you. I understand it's still touch and go with your father." John Paul's husky tone was exaggerated by years of heavy booze and expensive cigars, his tastes similar to my father's. He'd also been at death's door twice; once from an early failed assassination attempt and the other by prostate cancer.
His heavy cough was ragged and loud. "You know my father. Tough old bird. He's doing as well as can be expected." I moved closer, giving him the same bear hug I always had. "Good to see you, John Paul." I now towered over him, also something that had changed. Maybe I was the one who'd done all the changing.
"Why don't you pour yourself a drink. We can talk by the pool. A little sun might do me some good." He didn't wait for my reply, merely walked slowly toward the set of French doors. In his hand was a large brandy snifter, no doubt filled with cognac. As a teenager, I used to sneak into his office, filling my half empty Coke with whatever liquor I didn't think he'd miss. Somehow, I knew he'd found out my secret all those years ago. I'd always seen him as a cool guy, even teaching me how to fish when my father was too busy.
I'd come to learn later in life that he was just as ruthless and violent as my father, eliminating his enemies with ease.
While it was a little early for a drink, I wasn't here to insult him. I chuckled as a series of memories flooded my mind. He'd been married four times, never producing a child. I'd been like the son he never had. I poured a short bourbon, standing by the open door for a few seconds before heading out toward the covered cabana.
John Paul sat stoically, staring out at his magnificent pool. I noticed that everything from the furniture to the pool surface had seen better days. He was losing his touch.
"Your father is a very important man. I do hope you understand that. While I know Ricardo has been hard on you, he's very proud of you."
"Second time I've heard that in a couple hours. Too bad he never had the courage to tell me."