Page 78 of Valentino

"Mm."

"Why can't we just go back to Chicago?"

I knew she would ask.

I keep my eyes on the road.

"Because in our world, when something like this happens, we don't put everyone in the same place."

She turns toward me.

"The Sartoris can't afford that kind of risk," I say. "If I bring you to Chicago and Enzo finds the house, he doesn't just find me. He finds Bruno. Vittoria. Pietro. Aria. Everyone."

The car takes two more curves before she speaks.

"So Rome is what? A pressure valve?"

"Rome is neutral. Enzo has men in Sicily and Calabria. He has friends in Naples. Rome is harder for him. Not impossible. Harder." I look out at the hedges passing the window. "Fabio has the apartment. Luca knows the route. Bruno knows where we are. That's as safe as I can make it tonight."

She's quiet.

I could make it sound temporary. For now. A few weeks. Until Bruno settles it. Maybe all of that is true, but I won't give her a promise I might not be able to keep.

When I turn to her, a tear slips down her cheek.

She looks out the window before I can say anything.

I reach across and take her hand. She doesn't squeeze back, but she doesn't pull away either as Luca turns south onto the main road.

The autostrada peels past in long gray ribbons, and I have been staring at the same stretch of guardrail for I don't know how many kilometers.

Luca drives and doesn't talk. Beside me, Amanda has finally fallen asleep, head tipped toward the window, my jacket bunched under her cheek. Her hand is still in mine, and I keep mine exactly where it is because the last time she stirred, her fingers tightened like she was making sure I hadn't left.

My phone vibrates against my thigh.

I free my left hand carefully and pull the phone out.

The screen says mamma.

She has an instinct for finding me at the worst possible time. When I was a boy, she could find me in any corner of the compound, in any olive grove, in any sulk, before I had a chance to disappear completely.

"mamma."

"Valentino." She takes a breath. "Tell me you are taking care of yourself. Are you sleeping? Eating?"

I almost laugh. I haven't slept in forty hours.

"I am fine, mamma."

"That is not what I asked, figlio mio."

"I am eating."

"What?"

"What?"

"What are you eating? Tell me. Name something."