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“Forgive the questions, but do you think it was another one of the men vying to be on the Hand? Perhaps they came for your son, but they had to settle for Giselle.”
Rocco’s greasy mouth thinned. “We have a lead to a gang Miguel has dealt with before, but a gang like that rarely does anything without money behind it.” He sipped from his champagne glass, his eyes staring at me a little too hard.
I took that as my sign to go. “If you ever need anything, feel free to come to my church. I always make time for the Black Hand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should find Luca and tell him the same.” I bowed my head at Rocco before wandering away.
I’d been trying to think up a way to separate Luca and his father; they’d come here together, but they couldn’t leave together. I’d fortuitously had taken the bus here, so I would be in need of a ride home… and I knew exactly which car I would take.
Moving through the Jameson mansion, I crossed the main hall to get to the large living room, where all the younger folk were. Shay was nestled between the twins on the couch, while her other lovers were nearby with Piper.
They were not my destination, though. The boy standing near the windows, gazing out at the world of night outside was.
Luca looked a lot like his father, twenty-five years his junior. Dark hair, dark eyes, though with a much more slender build than Rocco. Rocco had a bit of a gut, but Luca was tall and lean.
I approached him, moving to stand beside him and matching his stare outside. You couldn’t see much from where we were, mainly just the lights that illuminated the pavement outside the mansion, but it was enough to make you believe, albeit temporarily, that you weren’t in Cypress. You looked out this window, with nothing but the black sky overhead, and you couldn’t see the skyscrapers that littered the downtown area. It was a whole different world.
“Luca,” I spoke cautiously, “I just spoke with your father, but I wanted to speak with you, too. I wanted to both congratulate you on your future Black Hand position, and also give my thoughts and prayers about Giselle. What happened was a nasty business. I hope she’s found safe and sound soon.”
Luca did not appear to be a good liar; however he played the anxious, worried son-slash-husband quite well. When he turned those dark eyes to me, he had to shake his head and mumble, “Thanks, Father. I… I’m really worried about her.”
That much wasn’t a lie. Just because he knew she was alive and safe—for now—did not mean he didn’t worry. I could understand it well enough. Giselle wanted to throw a bomb at the foundation of Miguel’s criminal empire and watch as the whole thing collapsed.
I took a small step toward him, dropping my voice to a whisper only he could hear, “I think you should go out with the other heirs tonight. Shay, too. Grab an Uber or have one of them take you home after.”
Luca did not say anything for a while. He knew something was going to happen tonight, but he didn’t know what the plan was. He didn’t want to know, from what I understood. His father, sins aside, was still his father, and there were some things you could not ask a son to do.
I grabbed Luca’s shoulder and squeezed, willing him some strength. Asking him to look the other way while I pounced couldn’t have been an easy ask; he must truly love Giselle, because he was going along with it.
I walked away and continued to bide my time. I forced myself to converse with other people, not just the Black Hand members but also the others that came to the party. Many of them came to my church only during the holiday season; better than never coming, but true believers made the habit of coming every week. I didn’t hold it against them, though.
The night wore on.
It was about ten when I noticed Luca, Piper, and Shay and her boyfriends were gone. Coincidentally, that’s also when a few others began to leave. I stuck around, waiting for the crowd to thin a bit more. Less people here meant less eyes possibly spotting what I was about to do. Miguel and Rocco stayed until eleven.
That’s when I struck.
I’d decided dragging Rocco out of the mansion would be impossible. The man was too large, and the of risk of being seen was too high. Stealth was first and foremost here; if someone saw me do it, well, it wouldn’t be good.
So, at around ten forty-five, when a group of ten or so people all decided to leave at the same time, I took advantage of the slight chaos of the parking area before the mansion. I was quite fortunate to find Rocco’s car was unlocked; the last thing any of these fools expected was someone to break into their car while they were at the Jameson residence.
The others who’d walked out were too busy talking to their significant others about how they weren’t sure Rocco and Miguel would be on the Hand to pay any attention to me. I was able to slip into the back of Rocco’s sportscar without anyone noticing. Wearing all black, of course, helped.
I’d brought a few things with me, stuffed them into my pockets. This was a fly by the seat of my pants mission, so I wasn’t sure what I’d need to get the job done. I brought everything I could’ve possibly needed: a syringe with a knockout fluid, a pill that I could’ve slipped inside Rocco’s drink if I would’ve been able to get him alone… along with a sharp switchblade and a cloth damp with chloroform.
Not at all objects you’d associate with a priest, but being the Black Hand’s personal priest, I had my connections.
Given I was in the back of Rocco’s car, I believed the latter two items would be of most use. I pulled out the switchblade, flicked it open, and waited.
Like I’d said, it was about eleven when Rocco and Miguel left. Rocco was alone, while Miguel walked ahead of his pregnant fiancé—the man couldn’t even hold her hand or show her any ounce of love. Unsurprising.
People who thought they were untouchable were not paranoid. Their bravado was their weakness, and here it would prove to be Rocco’s downfall.
He did not even glance at the backseat, not after he said his goodbyes to Miguel. He simply got in the car, turned it on, and got it in gear. We were off the Jameson property in less than thirty seconds, the radio playing low, smooth jazz.
I did not move. I did not make a sound. I was motionless in the backseat, my hand gripping the handle of the switchblade firmly. My breathing was light and quiet. Nothing more than a shadow in the backseat, something men like Rocco easily overlooked and didn’t pay any attention to.
Miguel had followed us off the property, but soon enough we were driving in the middle of downtown. Miguel was no longer behind us; he’d bought a house near the Jameson residence already; something Rocco would be in the talks of doing now, too.
Only he would not get the chance. In fact, he would not close on any house ever again.
