Not the normal words of a mobster, but he couldn’t exactly take Vallon’s attitude to the cops.

His cell trilled and he immediately picked it up because it was Simon Weston. “This is Guidry.”

“Hello, Remy. I’ve been monitoring the city-wide search for our Italian friend. He’s excellent at keeping his head down, but I believe CCTV caught him at a red light two blocks away from Top exactly forty-five minutes ago. I’m going to pull everything I have around the restaurant, but the city is upgrading the streetlights around downtown and we’ve had some problems with connectivity as they bring the new system online.”

Remy looked around. The dining room was perfectly quiet. “Tiffany? Did the last customer leave?”

She’d mentioned she had one customer left. He hadn’t paid much attention because his whole focus had been on the fight with Lisa.

Tiffany glanced down and reached toward the table. “He left me a hundred-dollar bill. Damn, he’s a good tipper. I thought he’d gone to the bathroom, but I guess he was done. I knew it was my lucky night when I heard that accent. Now I can spend way too much on a bottle of Riesling Sebastian wants for his birthday.”

Remy stopped. “Accent?”

Tiffany nodded. “Oh, yeah. Italian. I could listen to him all night. Don’t tell Sebastian though. He gets jelly.”

Remy wasn’t sure why the sommelier would want to do that, but he didn’t care. “Tiffany, get into the kitchen.”

Her eyes widened and he could see she was about to question him. He didn’t have time for that.

“Now!” he shouted. “Tell the chefs to put the place in lockdown, and I’m going to need them to clear every single room.”

Tiffany nodded and took off for the kitchen.

“Si, he’s here and I have to expect that he’s after Lisa. I need backup and I need you to get those cameras online in case he’s taken her.” That wasn’t the likeliest scenario. The likeliest scenario was that the assassin would find Lisa and quietly put her down. Remy was probably looking for a body.

Her body. The one that had given him pleasure and comfort, her arms holding him close. The one that housed her soul and kept her here on earth with him.

“I’m on it,” the Englishman assured him. “And Jesse and Michael and I are on the way. Chelsea is taking over the tech side. Hang on. I’m getting in the car now. Our ETA is seven minutes.”

“Understood.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. Seven minutes would be far too long if Biondo was as good as he was supposed to be. Remy exchanged the phone for his gun, pulling the Colt out and starting for the back of the building.