Caruso;
Michaelo's figure pulls taut, controlling the rigidity of his body in response to the click of my Glock.
I know what he's about to say. And he knows that.
Hence the fear-soaked atmosphere.
Sliding the metal onto the table before me, his posture relaxes. "Boss,"
"Any lead?" I ask without looking at him.
Head drooped, he mutters, "None yet."
My lips tilt lopsidedly at his response, a joint stick between my teeth. "Why are you here then?"
I lift my lighter, watching the butt of the rolled-up stick catch flames.
"Though there's no major lead on the case, there is important information," he pauses, seemingly weighing his words. "They might be related."
"Spill." Taking the burning stick between my index and middle finger, I huff out a string of smoke, the strong scent polluting the air.
Michaelo takes a second, switching balance between his left and right leg—choosing the left anyway. "Galo Montagna is missing."
"Oh?" Solely concentrated on my little activity.
He appears not to be surprised by my lack of enthusiasm, already knowing where this is crawling to.
He doesn't let it deter him. Michaelo goes on, "And suspiciously, not only him…his entire household as well."
I flick my eyes in his direction. I catch his brows knot—the thing he does when he's piecing two and two together.
Patiently, I wait. A virtue I'm painstakingly learning to cultivate.
"Also, only one of his daughters is…seen," he adds. "She was last spotted days ago, far away from the Montagna residence. And currently in…"
Michaelo pauses, lowering his eyes in a submissive manner.
"Go on." Another thick whiff floats daringly from my lips.
"Your brother's custody," he announces.
My fingers still just before my mouth, I lazily flick the joint to the side with my tongue instead. "Custody?"
"According to information, yes sir," he affirms quickly.
Hmm. My fingers fall rhythmically on my crossed thigh. Dear brother, what are you playing at?
"Apparently, she was at the site Sir Romano was brutally attacked, and he brought her back with him," Michaelo concludes.
I say nothing more in response. Instead, flicking my tongue from one jaw to the other. Pondering.
I absolutely do not trust where this is going.
"Boss, as for the intruder—"
"I know where she is," I shut him off with a growl.
He lowers his head and maintains the silence.
Galo and his cunning behavior of keeping his daughters in hiding are to blame for all this.
A memory shrouded in darkness flashes in my mind. A lithe and petite body against mine. My gun to her ribcage.
The flimsy material that lies still in my pocket. The blurry face behind the mask.
A smirk inches its way to my lips. "Little viper."
There's something awfully wrong about her. And I will find out. I always do.
"Michaelo," I drag, slowly taking my joint from my lips.
He stands straighter, at the beck of my order.
Rolling it between my fingers, "Look further into Galo's missing case."
"About the intruder's—" he hastily adds.
"Leave it unresolved," I command, paying him no attention.
Michaelo lingers. I sense his confusion about the command I've just issued. But he knows better, pursing his lips and bowing as he takes two sure-footed steps backward before spinning and exiting.
The silence that engulfs the lounge is mind-numbing. The only kind of feeling that I find welcoming.
Inhaling deeply—my breath reeking of weed—I rise to my feet, picking my shiny metal with me. The only toy I've known my entire life.
I stick the Glock into the waistband of my pants.
Footfalls catch my attention—it doesn't belong to any of the men in the mansion.
It's soft. Docile. Confused. I still hear it though.
Habitually, my head inclines to the side as I whirl; a slim frame traipses through the hallway, wide blue eyes wandering around in awe and—hold the fuck up.
That's not awe. That's—
My eyebrows knit, her form floating in suspicion.
—Curiosity.
I relax on my haunches, my arms crossing over my chest as my biceps flex. Placing my rolled-up stick back between my lips, arms folded, I lean back and watch.
Eyes darting to every corner, her expression remains point-blank dazed. Unsure footsteps still resonating softly.
Romano is an asshole.
My jaw grinds at the thought.
And just then, she pauses. Her features fumbling before, ever so slowly, she turns and our eyes collide.
Hers grow wide—subtly. Fuck, I wouldn't have noticed it if I wasn't so keen on slight details.
Her throat tightens and releases when she works a swallow.
I can almost hear it.
I can taste her terror from a distance.
Neutrally looking right back at her, my fingers reach for my joint. Her gaze traces my movement to my lips. And I slowly breathe out a thick whiff.
She swallows and spins.
Walking away with blanched, clenched fists and a more unsteady pace.