Page 124 of Thin Lives

“He deserves to die—he’s a bastard,” Calisto said.

“Protect yourself first,” Wolf responded. “Somehow, figure out a way to get out of this unscathed. I will always have your back, Cal, but I don’t know who else will in this situation. Protect yourself, and then you can protect them, too.”

Still … now Calisto had to consider other things. Like the fact the Donati famiglia saw Cross as Affonso’s son, and Emma as his wife. He wouldn’t be able to take Affonso’s place as a husband and father without raising some alarm bells.

This was bad all over.

“One thing at a time,” Wolf said almost like he could read Calisto’s thoughts. “What’s first and foremost important at this moment?”

“Cross.”

He was the most and only important thing.

“Affonso is not going anywhere without someone in this city knowing,” Wolf said. “You’ll find him, Cal.”

Calisto was already walking down the hall, and pulling his phone out of his pocket to dial a familiar number. Wolf had made a damn good point—there was no way a person as influential and well known as Affonso could move from place to place within New York without somebody noticing.

There was only one family Calisto thought might help him to start looking.

Or rather, a friend from that family.

Giovanni Marcello.

Sure, Dante—the Don of the Marcellos—wasn’t exactly pleased with the Donati family at the moment, but Calisto figured Gio might be able to sway his brother’s opinion.

Calisto put the phone up to his ear as it started to ring and called back over his shoulder, “Wolf, don’t leave Emma’s side.”

“Got it,” he heard the man reply.

Giovanni was picking up on his end at the same time. “Ciao, Marcello speaking.”

“Gio,” Calisto said instantly, “I need your help.”

Affonso could be anywhere. He had ties to several different countries outside of North America.

And the bastard had a head start, too.

Calisto just couldn’t think that way.

He couldn’t.

The phone Calisto had tossed into the center console of the SUV continued to interchangeably buzz and then ring. Message after message. Call after call. He didn’t pick up any of them.

No doubt, most of the calls were from Emma, as well as the messages. He’d pick up one earlier from her, and Jesus, it nearly killed him. She’d been so angry—terrified. He didn’t have answers for her, just another empty promise after two days of being gone and not being able to bring their son home that he was working on it.

That was the best he could give.

Calisto understood Emma’s anger and her fear. It wasn’t him that she was mad at, it was herself.

And Affonso.

Even still, Calisto chose not to take any more calls from her until he could give her a solid answer, something that would be true and sure, so she could stop crying, begging, and praying.

He was sure there were other calls and messages from some of the Donati men wondering where their boss was, or where in the hell Calisto had gone. It was one thing for Ray to go missing, but now Affonso was nowhere to be seen, and Calisto had dropped off the face of the earth too after showing back up.

It was all a little strange.

Bosses and their closest men didn’t just … leave.