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My grip tightens around her wrist, hard enough to bruise, and she winces.
“Salvatore!”
It’s another voice. Another woman’s. Older too.
But this one, unlike the tall woman’s, is familiar.
Still with my unbreakable hold clamped tight on the tall woman’s wrist, I whip around, and face the other person to join us.
“You put her up to this,” I yell at Florina. “You have ten seconds to explain or you’ll both be swimming with the fishes at the docks.”
“Salvatore Jonathan Mancino, you wouldn’t dare!” Color rises to Florina’s chubby cheeks, and though she’s trying to sound stern, there’s a waver in her voice.
“Try me, Florina. Explain. Now.”
I let go of the tall woman, shoving her toward Florina. With gangly limbs and zero coordination, she stumbles right into her. Both older women wobble like bowling pins for half a second ’til they straighten themselves out. Standing side by side, they look ridiculous—Florina short and squat, rosy-cheeked and raven-haired, and the tall chick with broom-like hair and her heavy wool coat.
They both glare at me, like I’ve betrayedthemsomehow. Bet they’re regretting ever meeting up with me.
Oh well. I want answers.
“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough,” I say. “Now means…now.”
Florina’s bottom lip pokes out. “Mister Lucius demanded I take the photo album and cell phone.”
“Yeah, sorta figured that out from the start. What’s he hiding?”
“Those photos… are from before they married.”
I stare at them. “So?”
“They’re important,” the tall woman answers. “They’re all she had left.”
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles.”
“Your father won your mother’s hand. But she didn’t want him. He wasn’t her first choice.”
“Not her first choice?” The tall woman scoffs with a skeptical lift of her heavy brow. “Or her second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth—”
“Shhh, Marsia—”
“Marsia,” I repeat. “That name’s familiar. Marsia Grebano? You’re Fabio’s mother?”
She gives a hesitant nod, tugging her shawl tighter about her shoulders.
My gaze skims over the long length of her. “I guess that explains the height.”
“We grew up together. Stefania, Marsia, and myself. But he can never know we provided you this, Salvatore,” Florina says in a hushed tone. She throws a paranoid glance over her shoulder. “Please, he can never know.”
“What were you saying about the contact in the phone?”
“Stef had it saved under…” Florina stops again for another glance around. “Solnishko.”
“Solnishko? What the fuck isSolnishko? What language is that?”
“Shhhh! No more. We have to go. We’ve been gone too long. Come, Flo.” Marsia hooks her arm with Florina’s and scurries off with hardly a goodbye.
I’m not convinced what’s gone on is as transparent as it seems. Florina’s never given me reason to doubt her character, but ultimately, Lucius signs her paychecks. He’s her employer and her loyalty could very well lie with him.
