Page 4 of Dark Angel
It had been a good day.
His buzzing phone snapped him back to the moment. Gabriel left the chilly balcony, returning to his darkened bedroom. Angelo Moretti was calling.
Gabriel answered. “You okay?”
“My nonno died,” Angelo said, his voice low.
“What happened?”
“What is wrong with you?” Angelo bit out. “My grandfather died. You’re supposed to show a little compassion?—”
“Relax, fratello.”Relax, brother.
“It’s not me, G, it’s you,” Angelo said.
“Now, you’re pissing me off.”
“Short fuse. I gotta head home.”
“Take my jet,” Gabriel said.
“You need it.”
“I’m hiding out like a fugitive in my own city, waiting on some Russian nobody who’s a no-show.”
“Patience, Gabriel.”
Gabriel chuffed out a laugh. “You’ve known me since we were kids. Patience is for people who’ve got nothing better to do than wait.”
Angelo chuckled.
“Was he shot?” Gabriel asked.
“Who?”
“Your nonno.”
“He was ninety-six, G. He died because he was old.”
“Long life. Where’s the funeral?”
“My mom’s throwing him a celebration of life thing at the house. She said something ‘bout cremating him and keeping the ashes. I’m still waiting for you to express your condolences.”
“Le mie condoglianze. My condolences.”
“Yeah, that sounded as sincere as a bucket of fucking hair.”
“Watch your back.”
“You watch yours,” Angelo said. “Ma asked me to hang around, so I’m not coming back.”
“I’ll schedule a pilot to fly you back.”
“Thanks.”
Gabriel killed the call, checked the security system at his villa. If someone had breached the compound, the alarms would have wailed. Even so, he reviewed the live feed.
All good.
