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Then again, nothing about Rafael DeMarco made sense. And I would know. I’d been watching him for ages now.
Stalking. You’ve been stalking him.
I smiled in satisfaction. It was fitting, really. The hunter becoming the prey. After all the people DeMarco had tormented, now he was the one who was looking over his shoulder.
At first I’d only tailed him to and from his apartment. Ideally, I’d have loved to get in there and look around right away, but the place was like a fortress. While posing as a pizza delivery girl coming to the wrong door, I’d noticed the steel contacts around the doorframe.
Definitely not your average security system. Besides that, DeMarco rarely left the place except to go to a modified warehouse in Manhattan. The building had been demolished and rebuilt in the early 90s. The first five floors were still warehouse spaces, but a commercial building had been constructed on top of that, boasting some twenty floors. And at the very top sat a penthouse… home of Blake Security.
So far I hadn’t been able to determine exactly what he did there. Either way, I wouldn’t give up until I’d peeled back every layer DeMarco had. It didn’t matter how long it took. I’d come too far to give up now.
I needed to know more. And until I could get in and meet them, the other players on the board would remain question marks. That was okay—I was getting close. At least I hoped I was getting close, because I sure as hell was getting tired.
When my phone rang a few minutes later, I knew who it was without even checking. “Hey, Charisse.”
“Hey, Di. What are you up to?”
“Oh, you know. A little of this. A little of that.”
“Still following Rafe, huh?”
I sighed. “So what if I am?”
“Are you at least being safe?”
“Yes. I’m being safe. I promise. Besides, I already have a plan to get at him.”
I could hear my best friend muttering something about saints preserving her. “Do I even want to know how you plan toget at him?”
“Probably not. You wouldn’t like it.” Charisse was my oldest friend from university. She was also the only one who had the whole picture on what I was doing.
She’d given me a place to stay while I planned and a shoulder to cry on when shit got so hard I didn’t think I’d be able to continue.
“Di, look. I get it. This guy killed your father, but that’s all the more reason you should let the authorities handle it. Because he is a killer and he could hurt you.”
“Well, he’s going to have a hell of a time. I’ve been planning for this, training for this. I have given up any semblance of a life just to get this close.”
I’d started looking for him three years ago, as soon as I graduated university. I’d dug up my father’s old files, tried to think of anyone who might have information.
I’d been so deadly serious about pursuing him I’d even asked my brothers for help in finding information. They didn’t think that a woman was capable of much, so they’d laughed me off. But not before giving me the name of someone who could do the legwork. It had taken time. But I’d been given a name. And a name had been all I needed.
After that, I tracked him. Rafael DeMarco. Italian. Grew up in Connecticut but then moved to Brooklyn. He had a younger sister, Lucia DeMarco, married to Noah Blake with one child.
Rafael DeMarco had never been married as far as I could tell. Which made sense considering that he was supposed to be dead. He looked pretty damn good for a corpse. If that guy was a vampire, I suddenly saw the appeal of all those sparkly undead.
The first time I’d seen Rafe’s obituary, the despair had been deep. I’d been sure I’d lost my only chance to find out why my father had been murdered. But I’d gotten lucky.
I’d had eyes on his sister because I figured Lucia might know something about the people her brother worked for. Then one day out of the blue, Rafe had just walked into Lucia’s office. I’d been studying him ever since, getting ready to spring a trap. Hell, it had taken patience and dedication and help. At least I had the funds to finance the help. I couldn’t watch him all the time.
Nor should you. Lest you become obsessed.
“Look, Char, I know you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. But this man is a killer. He took my father away from me. He has to pay.”
“I hear that, but you need to be careful. You don’t have enough information about him. You say he’s a killer. What if he finds out who you are? What if he finds out that you are lying to him? I mean, he killed your father. So he has no qualms about killing innocent people. Maybe he had business with your father, maybe he didn’t, but you don’t know that he won’t hurt you. You’re lucky to have what you have. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
“Charisse, I wish I could explain, but I cannot move on with my life. It feels like I’m stuck in the memory of that day. My father, he wasn’t always around, but I know he loved me. And that man took him from me. I can’t just let that sit. It’s like I’m stuck. I can’t move forward.”
“I understand. I do. I just— I think what you’re doing is dangerous, and I worry about you.”
