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To the Palmers, to Miguel, there was a whole world of people who might act on their jealousies. They had no clue this was one big show, and the person running it was someone Miguel believed was dead.
“It’s possible,” Atticus answered. “I will be speaking to each of them about it, seeing what they know. Because of this, I’m stopping them from leaving the city until this investigation is done and Rocco is either found safe or… or we find out what happened to him. I will be forwarding the license plate and car make and model to my contact at the police station, so they will be on the lookout for that. For now, we are operating under the assumption someone grabbed Rocco on his way home last night. We must remain vigilant.”
Miguel scoffed, and all eyes in the room flicked to him. “This can’t be a coincidence. We should be working on bringing everyone in now. This isn’t something we should be taking our time with—”
“I agree,” Molly Palmer spoke as she nodded.
Shay leaned forward on the table and said, “We’re dealing with people who might be a little ticked off that they didn’t win a spot on the Hand. We can’t go rushing into anything. We also shouldn’t assume. Sometimes the culprit is not the most obvious.”
“Well said,” Atticus praised her, and he gave her a quick smile before returning to business as usual. “Until Rocco is found, dead or alive, Luca will be assuming his place on the Hand. Luca, I’ll lend you some of my men, just to make sure you’re safe.”
I knew I couldn’t refuse those guards, so I muttered, “Thanks.”
The meeting lasted another twenty minutes. We went over the possible culprits, the order with which they’d be brought in and questioned. Molly Palmer left, so her husband would remain with Atticus. Shay decided to leave, and I got up to go with her. She was waiting for the elevator, having just pressed the button, and I intended to ride down with her, but a firm hand on my shoulder stopped me from following.
I watched as the elevator doors opened for Shay and she got on, wistfully wishing I was there with her instead of being stopped by someone I only needed one guess as to who it was.
“Luca,” Miguel’s voice was low and stern, and I did my best to look like the worried son when I turned toward him. He pulled his hand off my shoulder. “I don’t think I need to stress to you how important it is that you stay safe.”
“Of course not.” And, of course, I also knew that this was a load of bullshit, in more than one way. Miguel didn’t really care about me, just like he didn’t really care about my father. If there was one thing I’d learned about this man, it’s that he only gave a shit about himself.
“Rocco and I were working closely together,” he said, “something which you knew about. Giselle and now Rocco… I thought maybe the Serpents had come after Giselle, but now I’m wondering if someone merely thinks the Morettis are the weakest link on the Hand, the easiest to take down.”
Miguel knew damn well he was the one who had Giselle kidnapped and given to the Serpents. Twisting the truth by saying it was all connected was his way of attempting to salvage the current situation, but I couldn’t tell him that I knew the truth, which meant I had to go along with it.
“Don’t worry, Luca, we’ll show whoever it is that the Black Hand is not to be messed with,” Miguel stated, sounding so sure of himself. The man pissed confidence, even when it wasn’t merited. He really ground my gears.
“Thanks, Miguel,” I told him, and then I watched as he turned his back to me and returned to the conference room, where the others were waiting.
I left the building shortly after that, and it was as I was walking to my car in the underground parking garage that I found Shay waiting for me. She’d parked next to me. She was leaning her back on her car, a mixed expression on her face.
“I think,” she paused as she opened her car door, “you should go visit our mutual friend.” Our mutual friend had to be Giselle. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.
Given that I had nothing else to do in the city—not right now, anyway, while the rest of the Hand interviewed people—I might as well. Giselle didn’t call me at all since grabbing my father; I hadn’t spoken to her since before the party. I didn’t know if that meant she was busy with my father or if she’d gotten something out of him.
I hoped she did. I hoped she got everything she wanted out of it.
“I will,” I told her, and Shay gave me a nod before getting into her car and driving off.
If I said I wasn’t nervous during the drive, I’d be lying. I had no idea if she’d even be at the house, or if she’d be wherever they took my father. I didn’t ask for details. Hell, I supposed my father could be at the house, but I doubted Giselle would’ve wanted to bring him where she was staying.
Of course I was nervous. I was falling for Giselle, falling so hard and so fast that I didn’t want to take a step back from her. Our marriage was a sham, true, but I liked to think, if the circumstances were different—if everything was different, really—we would make a good team.
What I should do was call my mother and tell her what was going on; the last thing she knew, my father had gotten what he’d wanted and onto the Black Hand. She didn’t know he was missing yet. I… I didn’t exactly know what to tell her, or how.
My father was a shitty guy through and through, not the model of a man I ever wanted to be, and maybe it was because my mother was raised in the traditional sense that a woman must always have her husband’s back and support him, but she loved him. She loved him, and that was more than my father deserved.
If she knew everything he’d done, if she knew about that night three years ago with Giselle…
Maybe there were some things certain people were better off not knowing. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again. If my father was still alive somewhere, it wouldn’t be for long. Giselle would either kill him herself or have him killed, so did telling my other the entire truth of his ugly deeds matter?
I was a ball of nerves by the time the drive was done and I pulled up to the house. Two Serpents were sitting on the front porch playing cards and having a smoke, the same two guards that always seemed to be here when I came around. They were used to me now, so they didn’t even acknowledge me as I walked by.
I pushed into the house and found Damian in the kitchen, cooking and singing along to some Taylor Swift song. I froze, mostly because I didn’t take the man for a chef, nor did I take him for a big Swiftie.
The door swung shut behind me, and Damian turned away from the stove, smirking. “Ah, Luca. You going to stay for dinner? I’m making chicken enchiladas.” The heavily tattooed man even wore an apron.
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe.” I took a few more steps deeper in the house as I rubbed my clammy palms on my jeans. “Didn’t know you liked Taylor Swift so much.”
