Chapter Four

Maria wasn't really surprised when they pulled up in front of a huge house just outside of the main part of the city. It was only to be expected that high-ranking members of Passione would have a place like this, but it was still far more lavish than any place she had ever been in before.

Mista grabbed her bag before she could even get out of the car and started toward the door.

"It will only take a few minutes for us to get a room ready for you," Bucciarati promised her as he ushered her toward the door.

Once inside, Bucciarati announced his return.

"Bucciarati!" There seemed to be an instant ruckus as a messy-haired teen sprinted into the foyer, someone shouting after him.

"Narancia, get back here, idiota! We're not done yet!"

"Oh, Bucciarati. How did it go?"

The young, blond man Maria had met the first day at the restaurant was coming down the stairs, with a teenage girl behind him. Before Bucciarati could reply, another teen stormed out of the kitchen and grabbed the dark-haired one who had come running out by the ear, shaking him.

"Ow, ow! Fugo stop!"

"Then come back and do your lessons, cazzo!"

"Hey, enough!" Bucciarati snapped sharply, stepping forward. "Can't you see we have a guest?"

Fugo glanced over toward where Maria stood between Abbacchio and Mista and instantly released the other boy, his cheeks tinting with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly. "Oh, my apologies, signorina."

The others were gathered around them, all eyes curiously on Maria now. Bucciarati turned back toward her with a soft smile. "Everyone, this is Maria Gallo, she'll be staying with us for a while under our protection until we take down Marcello. Maria, this is the rest of my Famiglia. Narancia, Fugo, Trish, and you've already met Giorno."

"It's.. nice to meet you…" she said, still surprised.

"Is something wrong, signorina?" Giorno asked her, frowning.

"Oh," she shook her head. "I'm sorry, it's just…I didn't expect all of you to be…so young. I mean no offence by it," she added quickly, remembering that these were all members of Passione and probably more than capable of anything.

Even though Narancia bristled a little at that, Bucciarati gave them all a fond look. "They might be young, but I promise you that you can trust your life to every one of them. I do."

The warmth in the way he spoke about his team made the butterflies in Maria's stomach flutter again before she quickly tamped them down.

"Just let any of us know if you need anything," he told her. "I have some work I need to see to, but please let me know if I can help you in any way." Bucciarati turned to the pink-haired girl. "Trish, could you please set up the extra room for Maria?"

"Of course," Trish replied and motioned for Maria to follow her. "Mista, bring her bag up."

"I can help," Narancia said quickly before Fugo grabbed hold of him again.

"Don't think this gets you out of your math lesson," he growled.

Mista chuckled and followed on Trish's heels as they led Maria up the stairs to a bedroom down a vast hall of other bedrooms.

"Here we go," Trish told her, opening the door and flipping the lights on. "It might be a little dusty, but I'll take care of that. Let me go get some sheets for the bed."

She hurried down the hall to a linen closet as Maria thanked Mista for putting her bags in the room, looking around. It was almost bigger than her whole apartment had been back in Rome.

When Trish came back, Maria helped her put the sheets on the bed.

"It's kind of nice to have another girl around," Trish told her with a smile. "Don't get me wrong, I love everyone here, they're my brothers, but there's way too much testosterone in this house."

Maria smiled but was curious as to why there was a girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen living with a bunch of gangsters. "So you're a member of Passione too?" she asked.

Trish looked up. "Oh, I mean, technically I guess. I don't really do missions, though I can if I have to. It's just… I lost…both my parents, and Bucciarati took me in."

Maria tucked the sheet in, thinking about the fact that most of the team was made up of young people. "He does that a lot?"

Trish smiled. "Yeah, he's kinda great. Narancia teasingly calls him mom, but…he really is good to all of us. I would be dead without him." A small shudder went through her and she looked down, carefully folding down the sheet before looking up at Maria again. "You will be safe here."

Maria nodded gratefully, feeling a little better by the minute the longer she stayed in this house.

"I'll go get you some pillows and then show you around. You can put your stuff in the closet if you want."

Maria nodded, but decided to do that later. She was really just rather tired right now, but everyone had been so nice, and Trish did seem so eager to have another female to talk to that she didn't want to be rude and simply stay in the room all day.

After Trish came back with several fluffy pillows, she showed Maria through the house.

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall and my room is actually next to yours—don't be afraid to find me if you need something," Trish told her with a smile before she took her downstairs.

As Trish showed her around, Maria was actually surprised that, despite how big and lavish the house looked it felt…lived in. The kitchen table had abandoned school books and papers on it. There were books and empty cups on the coffee table and a game system hooked up to the tv in the living room. She glanced at the collection of vinyl beside a record player and saw that there was a very eclectic collection ranging from jazz to opera, and rock—undoubtedly a mixture of all the team's tastes. She vaguely wondered what Bucciarati's tastes in music were like.

By the time Trish had finished the tour, it seemed to be time for dinner—which was apparently being provided by Mista and Fugo that night.

The affair was chaotic in the best way, reminding Maria of when she and David would go to visit their cousins during the summer as kids—a thought that was bittersweet now, but still fond.

"Hey, leave enough for the rest of us!" Mista snapped at Narancia.

"My brain has been working all day, I need food!"

"How about ladies first?" Trish demanded, quickly grabbing a plate and shoving it into Maria's hands. "We have a guest, remember?"

Everyone seemed to calm down as they looked over and remembered Maria's presence. Mista grinned at her and held up the serving spoon. "Of course. Maria, come try my famous cacciatore. I know you'll love it."

She couldn't help but smile back and allowed him to fill her plate for her before the rest of the crew descended.

When they were all seated, Maria found herself sitting next to Bucciarati who took a moment while the others were engaged to turn to her.

"Have you settled in all right?" he asked.

Maria nodded. "Yes, Trish took good care of me. Thank you again."

Bucciarati smiled and turned back to his food.

"How's your arm?" she asked, just to keep the conversation going. The cut on his face looked like it was healing all right and he didn't seem to be bleeding anymore at least so hopefully someone had done something for him.

He chuckled softly. "I promise I'm all right," he told her with a light that was somewhat teasing in his blue eyes and oh, that stirred up the butterflies once again. Maria quickly looked down at her food and grabbed her glass of wine, taking too big a drink, feeling it burn down her throat. She coughed lightly which caught Abbacchio's attention across the table.

His eyes landing on her only made her blush harder when he looked between them as Bucciarati put a hand on her arm, asking if she was all right.

"Fine," she forced out somehow, ignoring Abbacchio's gaze and the twitch of his black-painted lips.

Thankfully, Bucciarati was turning to the others.

"Tomorrow, I want all of you to help out with our current mission. We need to find out exactly where Marcello's reach is and what he's been doing," Bucciarati told them.

"Great! I need a mission!" Narancia said enthusiastically.

Fugo jabbed him in the side. "Don't think that will get you out of your school work! You have your grammar lessons to finish in the morning before we start our mission so be sure to get up."

"Ugh, you are a slave driver," Narancia groaned.

"You're doing very well with your lessons though," Bucciarati commented. "I'm very impressed with your progress, Narancia."

The boy seemed to beam at the praise and stopped complaining for the rest of the meal.

Giorno reached out to the slightly wilted flowers sitting in a vase in the center of the table and it seemed like when Maria blinked they were perky and had even more blossoms on them…What?

"We also still need to find the stash of drugs Maria's brother hid," Giorno commented as he turned to Maria. "But I'm glad you're safe with us now so that's one thing we don't have to worry about."

"I just wish I could think of where they might be," Maria said.

"Don't worry about it too much," Abbacchio told her. "We'll figure it out. The most important part is making sure Marcello doesn't find them first."

"Yeah, and as long as we have an eye on him, he won't be able to do that," Mista added, then hissed down toward his plate. "All right, calm down…"

Maria blinked again as Mista started picking pieces of food off his plate and putting them to the side where they seemed to simply disappear. She shook her head. Maybe she was more tired than she thought.

"So what do you think?" Mista asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm?" Maria asked him, realizing he was talking to her.

"The cacciatore," he replied.

Maria smiled. "It's delicious. Really. It's been a long time since I've had a nice home-cooked meal. I was always a much better baker than I was a cook—sort of runs in the family."

Mista grinned, obviously pleased. "Well, let me know if you ever want me to show you a few things while you're here."

"Mista is quite the chef," Bucciarati commented with a fond smile.

"Come on, I learned most of it from you," Mista protested.

Bucciarati shrugged, not denying the fact which interested Maria even more.

The chatter continued, happy, and familiar, and Maria couldn't help but feel farther away than ever from her family. A family she didn't have anymore. It started to dangerously open the hole that she had attempted to keep closed for so long so she could just deal with the issues at hand, not really giving her time to grieve properly. She just felt so…tired. She felt safe here, but maybe that was why she was finally allowing herself to begin sinking into this feeling she had been so desperately fighting.

She was quiet for the rest of dinner and then quietly excused herself afterward, knowing she needed some time alone to process.

She took a quick shower and dug her pajamas out of her bag before she simply crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over her head, deciding that it was okay to hide from the world for a while.

Bruno rolled over in bed with a sigh, trying to find a comfortable position with his injured arm. Perhaps he should ask Giorno to heal it for him in the morning before they headed out after all. It wasn't bad, but Sticky Finger's zippers did tend to pull and his arm had decided to ache now that he was doing nothing but trying to sleep.

He thought he could ignore it for a while, but then finally sighed and sat up, throwing the blankets off, deciding that he should go find some pain medicine at least. Maybe make himself a cup of tea too to help him sleep.

However, once he got to the kitchen, he realized that he was not the only one awake.

The dim light over the sink was on and he could hear the light, hitching breaths of someone trying to cry quietly. His heart sank at the sound. It wasn't uncommon for one of the kids to have a bad night but thankfully it seemed to be happening less and less. Still, he should probably go see what was going on.

But as he came further into the kitchen, he realized it wasn't Trish or Narancia like he had first thought, but Maria.

She was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. Bruno's sympathy swelled in his chest as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Maria? Are you all right?"

She started and he felt a little bad for not announcing himself.

"I—I'm fine," she tried to assure him, quickly reaching up to wipe her face. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you?"

She looked mortified at the thought and Bruno hurriedly offered a smile to reassure her.

"No, cara, I'm admittedly not very good at getting sleep," he went over to the counter and picked up the electric kettle. "I was planning on making a cup of tea; you look like you could use one."

She nodded silently, cheeks still tinged pink as she dabbed at them with her sleeve.

Bruno quietly busied himself heating water, and pulled out two mugs and tea bags before returning to the table and placing one in front of Maria, sitting down across from her.

"I know this is overwhelming," he said quietly. "I would never wish for anyone to have to go through this."

Maria's lip trembled and she looked down. "I just…losing my father, it hurt so much, but I knew David and I would always have each other and…" She clenched a fist. "And then he does something stupid and ends up dead too! I just don't understand why he would do that!" Another tear rolled down her cheek. "I know it's pointless to be mad at him for it now, but…I just wish it had gone differently. That he hadn't done this."

Her anger and grief were palpable. Bruno reached across the table to settle his hand on hers, while he sent Sticky Fingers to retrieve a box of tissues from the hallway outside. "It's understandable that you would feel that way," he reassured her, grabbing one of the tissues from his Stand to press into her other hand as he continued to coax her fist loose, squeezing gently with his long fingers.

"I loved my brother," she choked out.

"I know," Bruno said gently. "I can tell. You can love someone and still hate what they did." He paused and took a deep breath. "When I was just a child, my mother left. I still loved her and was glad she could be happy, but I never forgave her for that either. Not really." Not when she hadn't even bothered to come to his father's funeral, or any time before that. He hadn't needed her, no, since he was currently making a name for himself as a soldato in Passione, but it would have been nice to know that she cared enough to bother.

Maria blinked up at him, clutching the tissue as her hand started to relax a little. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Bruno smiled at her. "It's been a very long time. Your wounds are a bit more fresh." He finally managed to flatten her hand and squeezed it comfortingly in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Maria seemed to realize for the first time that he was doing so and glanced down in surprise.

Bruno gave her fingers another squeeze before slipping his hand away and reaching for his cup of tea, feeling a little like he was trading one warmth for something not so warm.

"I just don't understand why he decided to deal drugs. If anything, I thought he would try to cut ties with gangs all together. He…" she bit her lip. "He never liked how we paid protection to Passione. Even though Papa explained that was just the way things were, and we never had any trouble because of it. He just…he was very stubborn. David always had to do things his way. Didn't like to be beholden to anyone. He was the one who insisted I still go to school after our father died, even though I was all set to help run the business with him."

"I didn't know your brother personally, Maria, but from what you've said, I feel like his heart was at least in the right place and that's more than you can say for a lot of people. I simply think he saw an opportunity to make up for his gambling addiction and just happened to fall in with the wrong people. It's a story that has happened over and over again in this city, one that Giorno and I are trying to make less frequent."

Maria took a shuddering sigh and wiped her eyes again, before reaching out to wrap her hands around the mug of tea. "I really hope you succeed, I don't want anyone else to have to go through this." She shook her head. "I just feel like I'm not being any help and I wish I could do more…"

"I don't expect you to do the footwork, you didn't even know this was going on until a week ago," Bruno told her. "I told you my team will handle this, and if you think of anything that will help us, then you can let us know. But please don't feel like you're burdening us by being here. We are more than capable of putting you up until this is over and you can get your business running. And you will. I promise you Marcello will be out of the picture soon enough and then your life can go back to what you want it to be. I can even help you find good employees and suppliers if you need."

Maria exhaled sharply, looking down. "You've been so kind. All of you."

"As I said before, it's our pleasure to help."

They sat and drank tea in silence for a few minutes before Bruno straightened up, glancing at the clock on the oven.

"It is quite late—or early, I suppose. You should probably try to get a little rest," he told her gently.

Maria glanced at the clock and nodded in agreement, standing up and taking both her and Bruno's empty cups to the sink. "Only if you do as well."

Bruno was a little surprised by this, but he supposed it was fair.

"I'll do my best," he said with a small chuckle. "Good night, Maria."

She gave a tentative smile and hurried out of the kitchen and back upstairs. Bruno watched her go before he shook himself, quickly grabbing pain pills from the cabinet above the microwave, and heading back to his own room, wondering why he still had the imprint of warmth from Maria's hand against his own.

Maybe it was because she had exhausted herself with her emotions, or finally let herself process everything, but Maria was able to sleep well the rest of the night, the image of Bucciarati sitting across from her in the dimly lit kitchen in her head, the feeling of his hand on hers, long, work-rough fingers, squeezing gently. He had looked so disarming with his hair down and mussed, in only a t-shirt and sleep pants. She shook that thought out of her head. She really needed to stop thinking about this. About him. There was really no point in it at all. No matter how many fantasies she had, they would never go anywhere. How could they?

She actually felt rather refreshed when she got up, and dressed to go downstairs early, thinking that, maybe, she would see if she could make something for breakfast. It was the least she could do, after all, for everything Bucciarati's team had done for her.

She was surprised to find Narancia already there, sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over his school books, scratching his head with a pencil. He looked up as she came in, somewhat startled.

"Don't let me disturb you," she said quietly as she went to fill the coffee pot and get that started.

Narancia sighed, letting his pencil fall. "It doesn't matter. I can't wrap my head around it anyway."

Maria peeked over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Grammar and spelling," Narancia groaned. "I'm hopeless at it. Almost worse than with math. I just thought I could try to get it done this morning so Fugo wouldn't have to waste his time on me anymore, but I don't think it's going to work. There's too many rules, and none of them make any sense!"

"Well, maybe that's because you're not looking at them the right way," Maria said kindly. "I could help you if you wanted. Then Fugo wouldn't have to."

Narancia's eyes lit up suddenly. "Really?"

Maria smiled at him. "Sure. I did a lot of tutoring during high school for some extra money. I'm not too bad at it."

"Well, okay," Narancia said. "But, just to warn you, I'm kind of an idiot."

"I'm sure that's not true," Maria chided, sitting down next to him and glancing over his current work. "See? You started out well with this, picking out the prepositions. Now you just have to figure out how to diagram the rest of the sentence."

After a few minutes of working with Maria guiding Narancia through the problems, he was able to get one right on his own.

"Wow, I've never been able to get it before," he said, looking up at her in awe. "I'm beginning to think you're the genius, not Fugo."

Maria laughed. "Maybe you just didn't understand the way he was trying to explain it. It happens. Does Fugo teach you all your lessons?"

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to go back to school, but I had a lot to catch up on so Fugo's helping me with that," Narancia said with a sigh.

"Well, I wouldn't mind helping you with grammar while I'm here," she told him.

Narancia's face lit up, causing a little warmness to fill her chest. "Really? I'm sure that even a week with you would help me figure this out! Thanks Maria!"

She smiled and turned the page in the book. "Okay, now let's see what we have here…"

She had totally forgotten about making breakfast that morning, but, she also found that she had forgotten other things too. There was just something about this mis-matched little family that felt like home.

Bruno groggily pulled himself from bed and dressed. He had not gotten enough sleep the night before and he still had a pile of paperwork to look over that morning that he hadn't been able to get to the day before. Perhaps he could finish that over breakfast…

As he went downstairs, he was surprised to smell coffee, wondering if Abbacchio had actually gotten up before him. But it was Narancia and Maria he found in the kitchen, bent over one of Narancia's textbooks, pointing things out to him. It was such a sweet picture that it managed to pull a smile onto Bruno's tired face.

"Good morning," he greeted.

Narancia looked up. "Bucciarati, look! Maria has been helping me with my grammar and I'm actually getting better at it!"

Bruno glanced over his shoulder, seeing the determined lines and writing, instead of the usual half-scratched out answers. "That's wonderful Narancia. I told you that you could do it."

"What did he do?" Fugo asked as he came into the room, a tired expression on his face. "I hope you've at least started, Narancia."

The dark-haired boy grinned smugly and flipped his book around to show Fugo. "Finished, actually. Maria helped me."

Maria smiled, a little embarrassed as she got up to refill her coffee cup. "I hope you don't mind, Fugo. He just looked like he needed a little help."

The teen looked shocked as he glanced over the problems. "These…I've never seen him do this well before." He looked up at Maria in awe. "How did you do this?"

"She just broke it down for me so that I actually understood why you do it," Narancia told Fugo.

"Grammar has always come naturally to me," Maria told Fugo. "I was majoring in literature, actually. I always enjoyed writing and reading."

"Really?" Fugo asked, and Bruno saw the interest spark in his eye.

Maria nodded, sitting back down. "Minored in art history too. Rome is the perfect place to study Renaissance art. It's wonderful to be able to experience a lot of famous things outside of the text books."

"Oh, it's amazing," Fugo gushed, taking a seat as well. "Just the pure amount of detail that went into the pieces. Hardly anyone can compare to Michelangelo."

Bruno got a cup of coffee, listening as Maria and Fugo started to have a very in-depth conversation about Michelangelo's style verses his contemporaries and then moved on to discussions about obscure European literature.

Narancia rolled his eyes and went to grab a bowl of cereal. "Great, he has someone to talk to about all his boring stuff. Now he won't shut up."

Bruno gave him a chiding smile but was glad that Maria seemed to be getting along well with the team. And that she seemed to be in a better mood today than she had been the night before.

The others joined the breakfast rush, and Bruno sent them off on their errands for the day, realizing that he would have to put the paperwork off for a little while longer while he went to talk to a couple contacts about Marcello.

"Maria," he said before he left, "Do you need us to pick up anything for you while we're out?"

"Oh, no, I think I'm okay. Thank you."

"Trish and Fugo will be here if you need anything," he told her and Trish nodded to confirm. "I would just suggest staying here. No need to put yourself in Marcello's way if he decides to come this far into our territory."

Maria nodded. "I'll be fine here."

Bruno nodded back, then turned to Trish and Fugo. "Keep her safe," he told them before he went to grab his keys and headed out to the cars. Mista and Narancia were going to go look into any other possible drug activity while Bruno, Abbacchio and Giorno went to meet with a few informants.

However, as they walked out to the car, Abbacchio started chuckling.

"What?" Bruno asked, somewhat annoyed, if not a little surprised by his usually taciturn companion's sudden sense of humor.

Abbacchio pushed past him, shaking his head. "She is head over heels for you, you know."

Bruno stopped, stomach flipping. "What are you talking about."

Abbacchio rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "How can you not notice? She blushes every time you look at her, and when you're not her eyes are practically glued to you."

Now Bruno was feeling a horrible heat spreading to his cheeks that he tried to fight back. "I'm sure it's not that…" he protested.

"Bruno," Abbacchio protested, smirking wider as he noticed the Capo's blush. Bruno quickly fumbled with the keys to unlock the car.

"He is right," Giorno added. "She does seem very enamored of you."

"She's a woman in need of help and she's gone through an awful lot," Bruno stuttered weakly.

"Yeah, and you were the hero who swooped in to save her," Abbacchio reminded him, enjoying this all too much. "I'm just stating facts, amico. You can do with them what you will."

Bruno glowered at him as he finally got the car unlocked, angry that Abbacchio had to fluster him like this right before they went on a job. Even angrier to find that he could be flustered so easily. It wasn't like he didn't have his fair share of longing looks and even propositions from the women in the city. He'd just always been able to ignore it before.

And now, of course, thanks to Abbacchio, he would no longer be oblivious to Maria's looks. Maybe it was nothing more than a simple crush because he had saved her—that would be understandable. Because certainly he was not the kind of man anyone should actually want to be with. His life made it far too dangerous to entertain the idea of romantic attachment. He worried enough about his famiglia as it was.

He just really hoped he wasn't going to have to hurt her too badly if it came to that.

As it was, over the next few days, Bruno couldn't deny that Maria was fitting in well with the team. Bruno marveled at how each of them seemed to enjoy her company in different ways. She helped Narancia with his language arts work, and had long discussions over tea with Fugo about books and art.

She had taken to baking in the kitchen daily, making delicious pastries and bread. She began to show Mista how to bake simple things in exchange for lessons in cooking.

When Maria had discovered Giorno's immense garden out behind the house and exclaimed over it, he had started leaving her giant bouquets in her room every day, always accompanied by butterflies or lady bugs that never left the flowers—probably made from some of them.

Trish seemed to thrive having another woman in the house, and Bruno was happy to see how close the two had gotten, knowing how much Trish needed someone who could help pick up where her mother had left off. Maria taught Trish to bake too, and sometimes they sat and painted each other's nails, talking about Trish's dream to become a fashion designer. Bruno had found them one day, sitting around the kitchen table, trying to convince Abbacchio to let them paint his nails black because he had decided to sit down and read. He complied only with a lot of grumbling, but if this woman could manage to charm even Leone Abbacchio, she had to be something special.

Bruno found himself watching her more often too. Her green eyes that sparkled when she laughed, and how she tucked her long auburn hair behind her ear when she was self-conscious. It had almost been a week, and they still had no real leads on Marcello or the stash of drugs, but Bruno found that he didn't mind if it took them another three weeks. Maria would be welcome for as long as she wanted.

But still, there was the ever-lowering weight of Marcello hanging over them. Tomorrow was the day he was supposed to come for the bakery and they had still been unable to find where he had his headquarters or where David had hidden the drugs.

Bruno was becoming frustrated with himself. Of all the people he knew, for some reason hardly anyone knew any real details on Marcello other than that he was peddling drugs and trying to encroach on their territory. Of all the power they had now, it would do them no good to simply give Maria back her bakery because Marcello would still inevitably go after her if he was around to do so.

He was thinking of anything else they could possibly try when one day he found Maria looking at the pictures he had put up on the wall after they moved into this house. Pictures of their team through the years, right up to the more recent ones with Giorno and Trish in them. Maria was currently looking at an older one though, which Bruno had put there from his own collection.

He came to stand next to Maria and she looked up at him with a smile, cheeks tinting a little less pink than usual. "You all look so happy in these."

Bruno smiled, glancing over all the pictures himself. "Despite our occupation, I've always tried to allow them to live a somewhat normal life. At least to act like teenagers once in a while. Not everyone got that chance."

Maria turned back to the one she had been looking at before. "Is this your father?" she asked, pointing to it.

Bruno stared fondly at the picture. He was about eight there, and helping throw the fishing nets over the side of his father's boat as the older man watched with a fond smile.

"Yes," he replied.

"You grew up on the coast," Maria surmised.

"I did," Bruno told her with a smile. "My father was a fisherman. I still miss the ocean sometimes, but at least it's not too far. I just rarely get the time to go now."

Something passed over Maria's face before she exhaled sharply, turning to Bruno with wide eyes.

"Bucciarati, I think…I think I may know where David hid the drugs."

Bruno's eyebrows raised. "Where?"

"Our family had a beach house, we would go stay there in the summer. It's still under our name though it's been a couple years since I've been there." She shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't think of it before; but the last time I talked to David, he said how he had gone to the beach again to get away for a little while. Clear his head. That's what he said. I think maybe…maybe he brought the drugs out there and decided that he wasn't going to sell them after all."

"If you think that's where they are, then let's go," Bruno told her. "I'll gather the others."