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This tour was boring.

No one spoke after the call with Fausto ended. Enzo seemed lost in thought and Mariella was looking at her phone. I focused on not vomiting, which seemed like a real possibility with each passing minute.

I had to get out of this car.

—Can we stop? I need to use the bathroom.

Enzo asked Mariella if she wanted to stop, and the other woman shrugged without taking her eyes off her cell phone. He met my eyes in the rearview mirror. — I'm going to stop at the side of the road. There are bushes and trees.

—Fuck this. A real bathroom with a real toilet or I swear, I'll ruin the leather upholstery on this car.

He looked at me, then made a call. Whoever was on the phone called him Don D'Agostino, so I assumed it was someone who worked for Enzo. Strange that he didn't travel with the level of security and paranoia that plagued other mob bosses. Was this confidence or stupidity?

When we finally stopped at a gas station, two black SUVs were parked there. Four men got out of e