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I lifted my head. “Emergency services?”
He went even paler. “They’re already there, sir. But, um…”
Something dark unfurled in my chest. Vincent and Bartolomeo were wisely silent.
“Is that my wife in that bank?”
Giacomo nodded. “Yes, sir….and um…she let Marzia have the day off school…”
Marzia. Isabella. My wife and daughter.
In a calm levelled voice, I said, “Giacomo, bring the car around and get me my gun.”