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She hesitated but then took it and sipped, squeezing her eyes shut. I guessed it scorched the back of her throat. She then handed it back. I drank a long swallow and refilled the glass, appreciating the burn. Salvatore had good taste.
“Can I have a proper shower?”
I nodded and finished the glass, then led the way upstairs to Lucia’s old room.
“Who’s room was this?” she asked, eyeing the abandoned makeup, the lipstick on the vanity with its lid off, the discarded pair of shoes lying beside the bed.
“My brother’s wife’s room.”
She looked at me, confused.
“It was my brother’s house. He left it seven years ago. I took it over.”
She searched my face, my eyes. Had she heard the story of the Benedetti brothers? Of how the one almost killed the other? No one knew what transpired that night, at least as far as the why of it. No one knew the secret Franco had told. No one but those who were here. As far as the mafia world was concerned, Dominic Benedetti was alive and well and had left after a family argument.
“Bathroom’s in there. You’ll have to deal with the dust. I need to make a call. Do I need to lock you in the bedroom, or will you stay put?”
“Lock me in?” She rested her hands on her hips, and her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.
I nodded. I didn’t have time to deal with her right now. I needed to make a call. I needed to find out where Roman stood.
“I’ll stay,” she said, her tone irritated. “And I want this off,” she pointed to the collar.
“Maybe we need to revisit some things.” I went to her, took her by the collar, and walked her backward until her back hit the wall. She pressed against my chest, but I pulled upward, forcing her chin up. Her eyes went wide, angry but also fearful, like they’d looked in the cabin.
“You’re still mine, you’re still owned. When I took you out of the cabin, I stole you from Victor Scava. I did not release you. You do not give orders. You obey them. Understand?”
I felt her throat work as she swallowed. Her lips tightened, and her little hands fisted at my chest.
“I asked you if you understood.”
“Yes,” she bit out.
I gave her a grin. “Good.” I released her. She took a full breath of air and stood against the wall as I left. I didn’t lock the door behind me. I went downstairs to Salvatore’s study. My study. There, I switched on the light and dragged the sheets off the chair and desk and sat down. Using my cell phone, I scrolled down to Roman’s number and hit Send.
He answered on the second ring. “Dominic?”
“It’s been a while, Uncle.”
He exhaled deeply. “Yes, it has.”
I hadn’t seen him in almost seven years, and his voice told me Salvatore was right. He’d hardened in that time.
“I heard about the body,” I said, getting right to business.
Silence, then, “And you want to know if I ordered Mateo Castellano’s killing.”
“I am curious why you’d mark him for everyone and their fucking grandmother to know it was you.” I played dumb. Even if Salvatore had spoken with him after our call—which I doubted—he wouldn’t betray me.
“I have enemies, Dominic. You know how it is for us. And snitches aren’t tolerated. Period.” He sounded stern, unmoved, like a real head of the family.
But he still didn’t answer my question.
“He’d done work for us in the past. His father was a friend to Franco.”
“Business is business. Where are you, Dominic?”
“West.” I wasn’t giving him anything. The more I thought about it, the guiltier Roman became.
“Do you need money? I can send you something. Franco won’t know.”
My lip twitched at his charity. His giving away the Benedetti money like it was his.
“No, Uncle. I don’t need money.” I could hear the hostility in my tone. Surely he could too.
Silence. “You’re well, then? Do you want me to do anything with the house? Will you be coming back?”
“No. I just grew curious when I heard about the murder, the brand. It didn’t seem like you.”
“The body shouldn’t have been found,” he said flatly.
Again, not taking responsibility, although not quite denying it either.
“But it was left where it could be. Seems like quite the oversight.”
“I need to meet with Franco, Dominic. Good to hear from you.”
“Tell him I said hello.” I hung up and leaned back in my chair. I had eight days until the auction. Eight days—at the most—until Scava would come looking for Gia and me. Eight days to figure out how Roman was involved.
A clanging sound stole my attention, and I stood. We were locked in the house. No one was here but us, no one knew about this place but Roman, and he didn’t know where I was. I’d left my pistol in the SUV, but checking Salvatore’s desk drawers, I found one there along with some ammunition. I loaded the handgun and opened the study door, listening. Another sound came, this time from the kitchen. I walked that way, scanning the large, open space as I went, the ghostlike lumps beneath the dustcovers eerie in the darkness of night.
