She peered up at me, her hair covered with the hoodie. I didn’t think. I bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. She exhaled when I pulled back, and just like that she breathed more life into me.
We walked out of the hotel side by side, not talking, not touching. Greta picked up her bike which leaned against the wall of the hotel and I got into my rental car. Then I watched her ride away on her bike. I started the engine and followed her for a while until we got too close to the Falcone mansion.
I did a U-turn and headed for the motel I’d booked with a fake name.
Tomorrow I’d see Greta again.
Tomorrow.
I got up around noon. I hadn’t fallen asleep until seven in the morning. Maximus had texted me to ask if I wanted to go out for drinks. We hadn’t spent an evening together since the war and his bond with my cousin Sara. I told him I needed to be alone for a bit. He sent me a thumbs-up.
Everything okay?
Things had been rough for him. Maybe he wanted to have distraction.
He gave me another thumbs-up.
He’d rip me a new one if he found out why I’d lied to him.
I got some breakfast at the vending machine, a cap on my head to hide my identity. My height and size still stood out but luckily this motel had horrible reviews—for very good reason—and had plenty of vacancies.
Around two p.m. I couldn’t wait any longer and departed. With the current traffic, the ride to the coordinates would take about forty-five minutes but I had every intention of checking out the area before I entered the premises.
I trusted Greta, but still my instincts told me to be cautious on Camorra territory.
I’d been driving for a while, away from the city, when a high fence, a bit like you could find around a military base or a detention camp, rose up to my right. I passed the pebbled road leading straight toward it and tried to get a good look at it from a few other angles. The areal was huge with several buildings from what I could see. I parked a good distance away to avoid being caught on surveillance cameras and pretended I was taking a piss. I would have liked to walk closer but that would have looked suspicious.
I shook my head. This was a horrible idea in a row of many bad ideas.
I knew it but at the same time the pull to Greta was so strong that I threw caution in the wind. I got back into my car and did a U-Turn back toward the pebbled road leading up to a gate. I rolled down the window, making sure I kept my head in the car, though my cap would have probably hidden my face, and pressed a speaker button.
Static sounded, then, “Yes?”
Hearing Greta’s voice, even distorted by speakers, made my heart speed up. “It’s me.”
A buzzer sounded and the gates slid open, but that didn’t bring me inside the premises yet. There was a second gate so my car was now trapped between the closing gate behind me and the one rising up before me. I grabbed my semi-automatic from the passenger seat.
I glanced around for a sign of an ambush, but then the second gate glided open as well. I set the car in motion and followed the pebbled road past paddocks and stables with horses, donkeys, cows and even the occasional pig, sheep and goat. The pastureland spread to both sides of the road. This kind of ranch wasn’t what you expected so close to the city of sin, but Remo was a resourceful man. Finally a white farmhouse came into view and behind it smaller cottages. A porch lined the entire front, complete with a swing.
I stopped the car but didn’t get out right away. The curtains moved and briefly a face peeked out then disappeared. My gun in hand, I cautiously got out of the car, checking my surroundings. It was quiet except for the occasional bird song and cicada. It took my eyes a moment to get used to the bright sunshine.
The front door opened and Greta stood in the doorway, dressed in a white spaghetti strap crop-top, flowy white skirt and cowboy boots. Her hair was down, framing her beautiful face. I swallowed and slowly approached the porch, my fingers still holding onto the gun. When I began to ascend the stairs, a low growl sounded and a big presence appeared behind Greta but she didn’t let the dog pass.
“Bear, stop.”
I kept my finger on the trigger as I stepped onto the porch. It was decorated with colorful flowers in small steel tubs and the wide swing had white cushions with mint pillows that said home. It looked cozy and with Greta’s welcoming presence and sweet smile, I felt at home right away.
I stifled a sardonic laugh. Then my eyes met Greta’s who watched me with a tilted head, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “I’m happy you’re here.” I could tell this meant a lot to her, maybe more than yesterday. This place was important to her and she wanted me here.