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I sprint upstairs, hoping the son of a bitch isn’t dead. Monty’s shoving the gun away from him as he moans on the floor.
I kneel beside him, shoving my finger into the bullet wound in his side. He screams in agony, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
I slap him a couple of times, making him focus on me. “You’ve got one chance to give me the right answer. Where is Anna?”
He laughs, spitting blood at me. “Fuck you, Leo,” he says, his face turning pale.
“No, fuck you.” I punch the bullet wound and he screams again.
“Cops,” Monty says, looking out the window. “We need to motor.”
The guy in my hands starts laughing. “You lose,” he says, lunging for my gun. He doesn’t reach it. Monty puts a bullet between his eyes.
“What now?” Monty asks.
“Paolo,” I reply. “He’ll know the right address. Out the back, fast.”
The cops are pulling up out front as we sprint downstairs and out the back door. We leap the fence to the next garden and then get out onto the street, slowing to a walk, doing our best to look casual.
I can hear the cops yelling as they burst into the house but by then we’re climbing into our car, Monty driving us away from the address the college had for Amato.
A fake address. I should have guessed sooner. I’m responsible for Vinny and Greg dying because I couldn’t work it out until it was too late.
“They’re dead because of me,” I say out loud.
Monty shakes his head. “We knew the risk.” He slaps my shoulder. “Look on the bright side. Greg never needed to find out his broad was fucking around behind his back.”
I look at Monty, seeing a dark smile on his lips. His way of dealing with the pain. Every man’s got to find a way.
“I should have seen the signs,” he adds. “Should have warned Vinny.”
Two dead men on my watch. Blood on my hands.
I shake the guilt away. I can think about that later. I need to get to Anna.
I turn my cellphone on and at once a message comes through from Sergio.
It’s a forwarded video from an anonymous number. I hit play and there’s Anna standing in front of Sergio’s car.
“Leo,” she says. “I hate you. I’ve always hated you. You’re an asshole and I’m glad the fire burned you. I only wish it had killed you back then. Go fuck yourself.”
I hit replay and watch it again, looking closer this time. Then I smile to myself.
I send a message to the anonymous number. “Tell her I’m sorry I hurt her. Tell her I’m sorry for everything. I’ll miss her but she’s free to go. I won’t come looking for her. You win.”
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t need to. He’ll tell her what I said. Meanwhile, I’ll be getting closer to the son of a bitch. Ending this once and for all.
I watch the video for a third time. Unmistakable. Two slow blinks as she finished talking.
I call Michael. “Put it on speaker,” I say when he answers. I shove my hand over the mic, leaning over toward Monty. “Pull up here. Let’s see what he gives us.”
Monty brings the car to a stop in a Burger King parking lot. I hear a rustle and then Paolo’s voice comes on the line, sounding weak and in pain. “I gave you everything,” he says. “I’ve got nothing left.”
“He knew I was coming,” I tell him. “You’re going to give me his home address.”
He starts giving me the same one that was written on the post it note. “Michael, give him a smack. Make it a good one.”
There’s a crunching sound and Paolo cries out in pain, spitting loudly. “Enough bullshit,” I snap down the line. “His real address. You’ve got ten seconds to give it to me or Michael removes your eyes so you can’t see the rest of the things I get him to do to you. Eight seconds. Talk to me, Paolo. What’s his address?”
