Page 90 of Corrado

But it was more than The League, too.

It was also—

Alessio came out of the walk-in closet with his combat boots hanging from his fingertips. Corrado moved aside as the man came to sit in the chair he was standing next to, and watched as he slipped his feet into the shoes before lacing them around the back.

He had someone else to think about, too.

A few months was a long time.

“And I need this kept quiet,” Andino added after a moment. “No one can know the details—the less people that know, the more unlikely it is that she’ll be found. I don’t want to have to worry about killing the woman’s brothers, while at the same time, have to think about whether or not someone has figured out where she is. Do you get me?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, I get you, but—”

“A favor is a favor in this life. You say you owe it to someone, then they can cash it in whenever they fucking want. Am I right, or no?”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Hmm.”

Asshole.

Corrado scrubbed a hand down his jaw, and eyed Alessio from the side. He was done with his boots now, and leaning back in the chair with his hand resting at the line of his jaw while he stared out the large windows surrounding their bedroom.

“I was thinking,” Andino continued, “that since they have her so protected, the only time they might give us the chance to get her away from them is on the wedding day. If you could drive in, because I don’t want any paper trail attached to someone the Calabrese might recognize or know coming into the city, then—”

“I’m in Vegas. That’s across the country.”

“You have three and a half days. Drive fast.”

Perfect.

This was just … great.

“She’s dark-haired, brown-eyed. About five-ten, or so. She’ll be wearing a large church hat that’ll cover her face. She will not be in a wedding gown. Make sure your vehicle is in front of the church to grab her as soon as she comes down those steps.”

Andino gave the name of a well-known cathedral in New York City, adding, “I need to know what vehicle you’ll be driving to let her know which one to get inside.”

No questions.

Just a demand.

So, they were really doing this, huh?

Seemed so.

Corrado thought about the Porsche, if only because Alessio had mentioned it earlier, it did need to be opened up—what better way than fifty over the speed limit on the highway—and it was probably the fastest car they owned between them. “A black Porsche.”

“Good.”

Alessio glanced away from the window at that, his brow furrowing. Corrado shook his head, not wanting him to worry. This didn’t involve his lover, and he didn’t want Alessio getting messed up in this, either.

It wasn’t that the Marcellos were bad people—in the underworld of criminals, they were more like royalty. He simply figured it would be better if he handled this mess alone, and let Alessio continue on doing what he always did without worrying about Corrado at the same time. He’d been the one to fuck up, so he would be the one who fixed it.

Easy.

Clean.