Vincenzo and Adriana are both unreachable. And Riccardo is with them. Cold dread spreads from my stomach to my throat.
None of this sits right. At all.
I shoot off a text to Cillian once I’m in my car. He lets me know that he and Wolfe are at Gavin’s. I speed down city streets, winding through traffic on my way to Gavin’s building, a converted warehouse in the North End. I get there, park, and take the stairs three at a time to get to his floor. The door is unlocked for me. I shove it open, my heart ready to explode out of my damn chest.
Cillian’s on the couch with his arms crossed. Gavin’s sprawled out across from him, still banged up from the attack, the bruises on his face still a faint yellow. Wolfe hunches over three laptops on the coffee table, fingers flying across keyboards like he’s conducting some kind of digital orchestra.
“I need you to find Adriana, Wolfe,” I rasp, still gulping down air from my impromptu sprint. “Now.”
He looks up and adjust his glasses. “Okay. Why? What happened?”
“She went to a meeting with Vincenzo over an hour ago. Someone in her organization is causing problems, her asshole cousin Riccardo. Now neither of them are answering their phones.”
“You think Riccardo did something?” Cillian asks, standing up.
“I don’t know what to think. That jealous bastard has been gunning for her since she took over. He’s been talking shit to anyone who’ll listen, saying she doesn’t deserve to lead. Maybe he finally decided to do something about it.”
“Riccardo’s an asshole, but he’s not stupid enough to move against her directly, right?” Gavin says. “Wouldn’t the capos tear him apart?”
“Maybe.” I sweep a hand through my hair. “Unless he had help.” The thought festered in my mind on the entire way here. I keep going back to the Russian sabotage, how all of it was designed to undermine her and get the capos nervous about her leading.
The room goes quiet.
“Fuck,” Cillian says. “So you think maybe…”
He doesn’t need to finish. He just meets my eyes and knows where my head is at.
Wolfe’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Give me a minute to track her phone.”
I pace while he works. The not knowing is eating me alive. Every second that passes is another second she could be in danger, and I’m standing here useless. And fucking helpless.
“Her phone went dark forty-seven minutes ago,” Wolfe says. “Last signal was near Pier 7.”
“What about Vincenzo’s?” I read off the number.
More typing. “His phone pinged in the same area around the same time. Then it started moving south.” He pulls up another screen. “I’m tracking his SUV through traffic cams.”
My brows furrow. “How do you know anything about his SUV?”
Wolfe lifts his eyes and looks at me like I have a dick growing out of my forehead. “I have his full name. I can get a license plate number, Loch. Jesus.” His gaze returns to the screen. “I have him on a traffic cam about forty minutes ago near that area. I can’t get a feed right at the pier, though.”
“Where did he go?”
“Still piecing it together. Cameras have gaps.” Wolfe frowns at the screen. “But he headed south. Into Southie, still on the waterfront.”
“And Adriana’s car?”
“I’m pulling up traffic footage now.” A few more keystrokes and his face tightens. “I have her silver Mercedes heading in the direction of Pier 7 at ten thirty-one this morning. But as far as I can tell, it never came back. It might still be in the lot, but like I said, I can’t get footage of that specific area because there are no traffic cameras.”
Still in the lot. But she’s not answering her phone. And Vincenzo’s SUV is gone.
“So Vincenzo left. Adriana’s car might still be there. But she’s not picking up her phone.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
My phone rings with an unknown number, Miami area code. Must be from a burner phone. I stab to accept the call.
“Yeah?”
