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“Running a little late,” she says sounding breathless.
“Is everything okay?”
“Damage control. I’ve been repping Bernstein with this nightmare of an investigation, but no amount of PR spin can save this sinking ship. He’s done for.”
“That tends to happen when you spend decades preying on children.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have even taken the job had my boss at my firm not forced my hand. Anyway, I’ll be there about fifteen after. Order me a ginger kombucha. Double on the ginger. I’ll need the extra boost.”
I laugh as she hangs up. Arturo drives me up to the door before he swings around to find parking. Even after months of having private security, it’s no less strange at times. A necessary precaution considering who I’m dating and who I’ve potentially made enemies with (Mafia families like the Belinis and organizations like the Neptune Society), but it can feel intrusive sometimes.
I can’t remember the last time I stepped out in public alone.
The server seats me at the table Medjine has reserved for our lunch. The Garden House hasn’t changed in the months since I’ve last been—on a Tuesday at noon, it’s full to the brim with people’s massive egos and the flowery garden scenery that surrounds them.
I shoot off a text to Salvatore to check how the mission is going.
He replies with a thumbs up emoji that makes me smirk.
In other words, he’s busy and too tied up for specifics. He’ll fill me in later tonight over those big juicy steaks he promised for dinner.
I’m smiling to myself as I slide my phone back into my purse. Arturo shows up from parking the car and takes up the seat on my left.
“Medjine should be showing up any second. If the server comes back, can you order her kombucha? Extra ginger. I’m going to the ladies room.”
Arturo waves me off, distracted by the menu. His skin has paled, and disgust has curled across his mouth as he eyes the lunch selection many carnivores like him would call ‘grass and flowers.’
Over the next few minutes, I disappear into the ladies room, touching up my make up and making brief conversation with the bathroom attendant.
When I emerge, I don’t expect to be confronted mere footsteps outside the door. The carefree vibe in the air evaporates. My gaze lands on the face of the man blocking my passage.
A man I’ve never seen before but immediately know is bad news. Average build and height. Middle-aged. Thick, hairy unibrow that accompanies a leering stare.
Behind him stand two other men with brawny arms and scowls on their faces. His back up.
He holds out his hand like we’re old friends. “Assistant District Attorney Delphine Adams, I don’t think we’ve met. But I’ve heard so much about you. Ray De Trolio. You’re Psycho’s gal, right? How about a friendly chat?”
salvatore
My men rideinto South Valley in cop cars we’ve remodeled at a local auto shop to resemble the cruisers SVPD use. The region is known for its thousands of miles of green hillsides and vineyards. The city portion rises among the dips and peaks, like some small modern borough of shops and businesses plopped down in the middle of wine country.
The men going into the house look the part; they’re donning police uniforms.
I’ll be hanging back, supervising via earpieces and micro cameras.
We’ve got to be quick about it. The staff will only be frazzled for so long. Several factors of the situation could go either way, like the amount of time it’ll take them to get a hold of Lucius, and how easy it’ll be locating Stefania’s cell phone.
There’s always the chance some wrenches might be thrown into the situation, like some guards we didn’t count on being present. The guys Lucius typically mans his summer home with during the winter months aren’t guys he considers his best; most of them have never come into contact with mine.
We don’t need our cover blown.
Lucius's mansion emerges beyond the green vineyard that precedes it. The property’s what he’s always proudly called hiscasa lontano da casa—built of stone with facade details that mimic Italian architecture back home and surrounded by fountains shooting water that arcs through the air. The giant mansion might be one of the few things Lucius loves.
My men pull up with their patrol lights flashing and get out carrying themselves like they’re real cops.
The smug sense of importance comes through even as I watch through the micro camera.
The next part goes according to plan. They bang on the door.
