5. Salvatore

5

salvatore

“It’s only for a week,” Stitches says. “I’m sure everything will be fine. In this day and age, technology makes it easy to track everything.”

“I’m more concerned that Rhino is going to forget he’s in charge and let all the ass at Nirvana distract him.”

“Now that you mention it, that’s a definite possibility.”

I shake my head at Stitches as I grab my desk phone and dial up the man in question.

For the next week, Vito “Rhino” Capaldi, the capo from my early days in the family, will be coming out of retirement to look after operations. He agreed under one stipulation only: I go enjoy the Christmas holiday with my family and stop obsessing over work for once.

It seems everyone’s on Delphine’s side—everyone agrees I need the break so I can learn to embrace the season.

Rhino answers after a couple rings. “You don’t ever get tired of blowing up my phone, do you?”

“I was wondering what model you got distracted by this time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I said I would, didn’t I? You go have a Merry fucking Christmas with your adorable little ones and beautiful wife with the fat ass. I’ve got everything covered.”

“Rhino,” I warn.

He hacks out a laugh that turns into a throaty cough. “No disrespect. I wish my ex-wife’s ass was that fat?—”

“Get down here in the next twenty minutes. Francis and I are heading out.”

I hang up on him before he can even start to get the next word out.

“All good?” Stitches asks.

“As good as it can be considering Rhino’s getting off his fat retired ass to fill in.”

“I have a good feeling about this. It’s all going to be fine.”

I can’t answer Stitches.

Though I’m looking forward to time with Delphine and the kids, I’m not as optimistic. This trip is about making them happy, not me.

Christmas will never be a time of year I enjoy.

“Everybody ready?” I ask, poking my head into the backseat of our SUV.

Three little brown faces stare back at me, each as adorable as the other. All three strapped into the proper car seat for their size. Dominic insists he’s too much of a big boy for his, but Delphine and I remind him how he’s setting an example for his little brother and sister.

Serena beams at me, kicking her legs in excitement. “Daddy, let’s go! We might miss Santa and his elves!”

Dominic rolls his eyes. “Rena, how many times do Bryce and I have to tell you? Santa comes out at night .”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh!”

“NUH-UH!”

“Hey, hey,” I interject before Dominic can counter her. “Both of you remember what this season’s all about?”

“Togetherness,” Dominic mumbles.

“That’s right. Which means you should be nice to each other… if you want Santa to visit our house at all.”

Both of them gasp, their eyes rounding in shock. Meanwhile, Dante’s in the middle, the toddler in his own world as he gnaws on his teething ring of keys. I can’t help cracking a grin at how oblivious he is to his older siblings. The contrast is hilarious.

“What’s all this commotion?” Delphine asks as she approaches the car clutching her purse and yet another diaper bag for Dante.

I take the diaper bag off her hands and head around back to load it up. “The usual. Your children bickering over Santa Claus.”

“My children?” Delphine arches a brow, placing a hand on her hip. “That’s funny. I seem to remember the process involving two people. One of them who refused to keep his hands to himself.”

I come in close to drop a kiss on her lips then cradle her face in my hands. “A man can’t be held accountable when his woman looks as good as you.”

“Jon!” she giggles, smacking my chest.

The sound of Delphine’s laughter will always feel like an accomplishment. From the time we were teenagers, I learned it was something I liked earning from her. Twenty years later, her laugh hasn’t changed much—it’s just as cute and infectious as ever.

“Ready to hit the road?”

She glances up and down our circular driveway, taking in the fleet of other unmarked black cars that will be escorting us. Our security that will be covering our car from the front and back. Over the years, she’s grown used to the high level of security I insist our family has at all times, but she’d still prefer life without it.

“It seems like our chaperones are ready… so that must mean we are.”

“It’ll just be us in our car,” I reassure her, kissing her again. “And who can forget Stitches, Sasha, and Bryce in the car behind us? What about your father and brother?”

“Flying in. They’ll make it to the cabin a couple hours after we do.”

“Then let’s roll.”

We slide into the seats up front, and I press the button to turn on the engine. With a final glance at our home in Westoria, I put the SUV in drive and head out.

The afternoon’s fading away when we finally arrive in Mount Halsey. The upscale winter village looks exactly like it does in the brochure, with two-dozen-odd large cabin-style homes that are spread out among the woodsy landscape. Snow from last night dusts the ground and the surrounding trees, making Dominic and Serena gasp in awe.

“Daddy, Mommy, look!” Serena squeals. “It’s snow! Is Santa coming?”

“Yes, baby,” Delphine humors. “Santa’s coming soon.”

Serena makes another breathy sound of excitement and hugs her favorite babydoll close.

Dominic’s preoccupied with the snowfall in a different way—he’s craning his neck to admire the snowy hills and wondering aloud if he and Bryce can build a fort.

Dante’s passed out in his car seat, dozing away with a thin train of spittle on his chin.

I pull up to the curb outside the chalet style cabin we’ve rented for the next seven days. It’s the largest one in the entire Mount Halsey community.

Almost as big as our mansion in Westoria.

A sleek slanted roof covers the two-story home that has tall arched windows and a double terrace and chimney.

If I were a mountain terrain type of guy, it wouldn’t be so bad to live here full time.

Delphine and Sasha unbuckle the kids and take them inside while me, Stitches, and our security tackle the luggage.

“That wasn’t such a bad drive,” Stitches says, hoisting two pieces of Sasha’s luggage out from the trunk. “We snuck Bryce half a melatonin, and he was out for the count, and then me and Sasha listened to one of those audiobooks.”

“Let’s be grateful we made it before any snowfall.”

“Word is we’ll be getting some more tonight. Mrs. Phi’s dad and brother still flying in?”

“Last I heard.”

We head inside while my security embarks on a check of the premises and surrounding area.

The cabin home has eight bedrooms and six bathrooms, which just so happens to fit us perfectly. Delphine and I are in the master bedroom, Stitches and Sasha in their own bedroom, Dominic and Bryce sharing a room, Serena in her own like the little princess she is, another room turned nursery for Dante, and then two more rooms for Ernest and Delphine’s brother, Marcel.

The furnishings fit the rest of the chalet cabin’s vibe. Expensive, hand-crafted wooden furniture, warm lighting everywhere and lots of animal-themed décor.

“According to the flight tracker, Dad and Marcel are on time. They should be landing soon,” Delphine says. She smiles up at me. “Thanks for inviting them.”

“And have them miss all this holiday cheer?” I tease back in a sarcastic tone. “I would never deprive them of so much tinsel.”

“One of these days I’m going to convert you.” She rises on tiptoe to kiss me on the lips.

“Keep kissing me like that and you just might.”

We move into the den where Stitches has a roaring fire burning and Sasha is helping the kids decorate the massive Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

“Finally,” Delphine says, holding out her buzzing phone in her hand. “This is Dad. I bet he’s calling to tell me they’re on the way.”

I think nothing of the comment as Delphine answers the call and I move toward the kids jumping and pinning ornaments on the tree.

“Bryce, Dominic… be careful with that tinsel,” Sasha says, casting the boys an amused glance. “You’re going to wind up tangled.”

“I’m a Christmas mummy!” Dominic exclaims. He stretches his arms out, the shiny tinsel wrapped around both, and begins stiffly lurching forward.

The other kids laugh.

I’m on the verge of joining them when bits and pieces of Delphine’s phone conversation catch my attention. Her tone of voice has deepened with worry.

“Lost?” she asks. “What do you mean you’re lost? Did you try GPS? The roads are a little tricky, but there’s a sign you can’t miss. You’ve circled five times? It’ll be dark soon.”

“Stitches and I can go meet them,” I say. “They can’t be far if they’ve already gone through the town.”

She shakes her head. “No, Jon… that’s okay. They’ll find their way. Dad, it’s just some snow flurries. You’ll be fine.”

“We’ll go. It should be quick.”

I call Stitches over to tell him about our impromptu field trip. He seems disappointed if only because he was ready to break out the adult drinks.

“It shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”

We head out to the melody of laughter from the kids as they finish decorating and the sight of Delphine gifting me a grateful smile.

Stitches takes the wheel while I ride passenger.

Ernest was correct when he told Delphine over the phone that it had started to snow. Light flurries flit through the cold air and gather on the ground. My security on watch offers to tag along, but I decline and tell them to remain at the house with Delphine, Sasha and the kids.

“Should be quick.”

“Let’s hope they’re just lost. Not really, really lost,” Stitches says, turning down the road leading up to our cabin home. “Did they not think of GPS or what?”

“Ernest told Phi it wasn’t working.”

“We are way up in the mountains and this weather is pretty crappy.”

“But circling five times and still missing the sign?”

Neither of us have any answers to explain what could possibly have gone wrong that Ernest and Marcel struggle to find the property. Simply missing the sign and the GPS not working doesn’t seem adequate enough when they’re so close in the area.

We drive down the winding road in search of them.

The snow picks up. What was once tiny flurries become thicker flakes that dust the roads and the windshield. Stitches slows up as a precaution and flicks on the headlights to be safe. This time of year it’s usually dark out by four or five in the afternoon.

“Is that their car?” Stitches asks, jutting his chin at the side of the road. “What the hell would make them pull over?”

I follow his gaze to find an empty rental car parked on the shoulder, the driver side door hanging open. We brake and come up behind them, turning off the engine so we can explore the scene.

“Their luggage is in the back.” Stitches walks around to the rear passenger side and peers into the car window.

I’ve started toward the tree line, peering into the distance in case I catch sight of them.

“You think the car stopped working?” Stitches asks.

“Who knows? But it seems like they must be on foot…”

We venture deeper into the wooded area with our eyes peeled for any sight of them. Stitches turns on the flashlight on his phone after mentioning yet again how quickly it’s growing dark. The sky has morphed from a light gray to a darker, angrier shade that only makes the snowfall look brighter in contrast.

Stepping between two thick trees, I check if I can at least spot some footprints in the snow. I sense the sudden movement before seeing or hearing it—a man lunges from behind one of the trees and swipes at me with a pocket knife.

I’m quicker than he is.

I leap back and square up as if about to knock him on his ass with a takedown maneuver.

The only reason I don’t is because I recognize him.

Delphine’s brother Marcel is clumsy launching his attack. When I prove to be a step ahead by jumping out of the way, he stumbles forward and almost drops the pocket knife in his hand.

He realizes who I am as I raise my brows at him in question.

“Oh,” he says, his tone flat. “My bad. I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you always lunge at strangers in the woods?”

“When I’m lost on my way up to an alleged cabin in the woods I do. Dad! Over here!” he shouts into the near distance. “It looks like Mancino and his sidekick have turned up.”

Tension tightens my jaw. I glare at him as eventually Ernest Adams appears at his side. The father and son bear a striking resemblance, except Marcel has turned out an inch taller.

While Marcel is cold and hostile at best, Ernest grins at the sight of Stitches and me. He steps forward to shake our hands and moves into a quick one-armed hug.

“Excellent, you’ve found us!” he says. “I never thought we’d make it. Marcel hasn’t had any luck with the GPS. He suggested we get out on foot and see if we have better luck.”

“Yeah, I bet he did.” I still haven’t stopped eyeing Marcel.

“Hey, how you doing?” Stitches asks Delphine’s older brother. He moves in for a handshake. “I’m Francis but everybody calls me Stitches. I’ll tell you the origin story sometime.”

Marcel ignores his extended hand and turns toward the direction where the cars are parked. “How about we actually get going?”

I stand back with the other two watching as Marcel takes off ahead of us. Ernest sighs from my side.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “He’s been agitated all day. It could be jetlag from his overseas travel.”

But as we eventually set off behind him, I’m not so sure. My read on Delphine’s brother tells me there’s something else that’s driving his behavior and that what we’ve been told might not necessarily be the truth.