Page 63 of Fastest Kill

He had told his brothers a version of this in Rhodes, after Serapis had turned up. That damn middle-of-the-night conversation he had half-heard and never mentioned after Niccolò died because it hadn't seemed to matter. It was just a memory of a dead man's voice.

He was remembering it better now. "Earlier that day, he had taken me out alone. Just the two of us, while Rodrigo and Leo slept through their hangovers. We walked to the Rialto Market. He bought me a coffee and a pastry, and he said—" Dario stopped and tried to remember the exact words. "He said every man needed a patron saint. He had been thinking about which one suited me best and said that he'd made his decision."

Dario turned his head to look at her, her face calm and so damn beautiful.

"He gave me a small statue. San Expedito." Dario ran his thumb along the edge of the journal's cover. "He was a Roman soldier in full armor, one foot up on a crow. The crow represents procrastination—tomorrow, putting things off, letting fear make you wait. San Expedito stomps it flat. Niccolò said I needed a saint who understood urgency and didn't tolerate excuses. Also, one that would turn up fast when I was in trouble, because I got into it a lot."

Frederica's mouth twitched in a grin. "Obviously."

"I've prayed to that saint ever since," Dario admitted, setting the journal down carefully on the study floor. "Every time I was in trouble and needed something to go well, I'd say something to San Expedito, and everything would work out. I thought I was imagining it, but it still works when I get into the shit. I kept at it not because I am particularly religious, but because it was a part of something from Niccolò."

"Do you know where it is now?" Frederica asked.

"Yeah…I think I do. Come on." Dario stood up and helped her up off the floor.

His old bedroom was at the top of the narrow staircase, the last door before the landing turned. Frederica snickered at the sign that read 'Dario's Room Keep Out assholes, or I will piss in your drinks.'

"You try having two brothers," he said by way of an explanation.

Dario pushed it open and stopped in the doorway for a second before he went in.

Most of the rooms in the Tuscan villa had been reorganized and stripped after Niccolò died. Their bedrooms in Venice had been shut up and preserved, like the house itself.

Dario stared around, feeling like he was fifteen again. The bookshelf was against the far wall, under a window that looked out over the narrow strip of the courtyard below. It was still stacked with the books he had read when he was young: paperback thrillers, piles of comics, and a few histories he had stolen from his father's library and never returned.

The top shelf held more random crap: a pair of old football boots hooked over the shelf edge, a broken compass, a cracked phone case from a model so old it no longer existed.

He crossed the room and stood in front of it, searching through his knick-knacks.

"You are kind of a hoarder, huh?" Frederica teased.

"You are welcome to show me your childhood bedroom next time when I'm on Rhodes," he replied, making her laugh.

"No one needs to see that. Despina is the hoarder and won't let me throw anything out, not me."

"Ah, huh, whatever you need to tell yourself, Spartana. Don't worry, I won't tease you about your Barbie doll collection."

Frederica flipped him off but admitted after a beat. "Knights. Not Barbies."

"Knights?"

"I have a lot of little figures of knights. Ones with horses. Ballista. Castles. I was never into dolls," Frederica admitted.

Dario grinned. "Can I ask why?"

"I grew up on Rhodes! It is the home of the Knights of Saint John. The Hospitallers. The Grand Master's castle is there, as is the original hospital, but it's now a museum. I grew up with knights all around me, so it was bound to happen," Frederica replied.

"And the knight statue in the garden is yours?" he asked, remembering the figure with the fresh flower tucked into it.

"Yeah, it is. He's my guy," Frederica said with a wide smile. "I love that damn statue. I wanted to be a knight when I grew up."

Something clicked into Dario's mind. "Is that why you take jobs for people in need for only fifty euros?"

"I take those because it's the decent thing to do, but I suppose the knights were a good influence on me." Frederica looked a little bashful. "I still have my knights collection. I don't have it in me to throw them out."

Dario gestured at the detritus around them. "This is clearly a safe space to admit that."

"Shut up, and let's just find this bee and not worry about my knights," Frederica said, and with a chuckle, Dario got back to work.