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The team exchanged puzzled glances, but no one questioned the urgency in my voice. One by one, we filed out of the room, leaving the muted glow of the screen behind. Outside, under the overhang that shielded us from the soft drizzle, I pulled out my phone, showing them the repeated notifications from Courtney.
"I'm worried," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Courtney messaged me twice in quick succession, which she never does. I'm afraid something might have happened to her. She’s using the Signal app because her flip phone hasn't arrived yet. She's received a mysterious package containing something she is afraid to mention…sounds like it's a 'eyes only' sort of thing."
Bob took charge instantly. "Let me contact Giuseppe," he suggested, already reaching for his earpiece. Moments later, he was speaking softly into the device.
While we waited for Giuseppe's response, the drizzle intensified into a gentle rain, pattering against the roof and the pavement. The comforting rhythm, however, did little to ease the tension hanging in the air.
Giuseppe's response came through the earpiece promptly. "Giuseppe advises we meet him at the Bella Vita restaurant," Bob relayed, ending the call. "We can have a drink there and discuss the situation without worrying about being overheard. It's the same place Amy and Mitch had their engagement party."
With that settled, we made our way to our cars, my mind occupied with thoughts of Courtney and the unexpected turn of events.
Bella Vita was a short drive from Rosedale. The clouds had cleared by the time we arrived, leaving behind a fresh, crisp scent that filled the air. The restaurant was an elegant, old-world-style establishment with a rustic charm that belied the sophistication of its cuisine and clientele.
Giuseppe was waiting for us in the back room. This private dining area offered a quiet reprieve from the general hustle and bustle of the restaurant. The room was already filled with the enticing aroma of a selection of hors d'oeuvres, and a cocktail waitress was standing at the ready.
Giuseppe, a grandiose Sicilian, was a larger-than-life character. As a part of the Russo Mafia Family, he was seasoned in navigating complex and clandestine situations. He exuded an air of authority that was hard to ignore with his deep-set eyes and slicked-back silver hair. His suit was meticulously tailored, fitting him like a second skin, the sharp lines accentuating his imposing presence.
"Ah, my friends, welcome," Giuseppe greeted us in his thick Italian accent. Then, with his arms opened wide in a welcoming gesture, he gave his son-in-law, Mitch, a warm hug.
The waitress stepped forward, pad and pen ready to take our orders. I opted for a simple Scotch, my mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Courtney. My colleagues made their orders in turn, the waitress jotting everything down with a professional smile before excusing herself from the room.
Once she had exited, Giuseppe moved to close the door, turning the lock with a soft click. He then strode to the windows, pulling the shades down until they were only half-open, allowing a soft, diffused light to filter into the room. His every action was measured and deliberate, speaking volumes about his experience in such matters.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of relief knowing we were in capable hands. It was time to delve deeper into this game of subterfuge. However, the worry for Courtney still gnawed at me, casting a shadow over the evening, and we had to act swiftly.
Giuseppe looked at me, his expression a blend of concern and resolve. "Brad, I've anticipated this," he said, his voice firm but composed. "My brother Antonio has a guy, Dylan, who's been keeping an eye on Courtney. He's also been watching her roommate, Jenna, just to be sure."
I blinked, surprised but grateful for his foresight. Giuseppe was always a step ahead.
He continued, "Let's get a message to her. Ask her for a safe place where you can meet. Her safety is paramount."
I nodded, quickly composing the message and hitting send. Courtney’s response was prompt:
The Circle T, our family ranch in Cody. Dad's away for a few weeks. We'll have plenty of privacy to discuss things over the weekend without me missing classes.
Relaying the message to the group, a sense of relief swept over us. We finally had a plan, a tangible way to keep Courtney safe while we unraveled Clint's deceit, our former trusted colleague. The game was far from over, but we felt prepared to confront whatever lay ahead.
"Alright," Giuseppe commanded, the room echoing with his authoritative tone. "Brad, you need to get to Courtney immediately. I've arranged a private jet for you to Laramie. Pick Courtney up there, and proceed to Cody."
Without missing a beat, he dialed his pilot. The room descended into a tense silence, punctuated only by the soft murmurs of Giuseppe's conversation. His words were indistinct, but his demeanor was unequivocally professional.
After concluding his call, he turned back to me, nodding affirmatively. "Done. The jet will be ready for you in two hours at the San Diego Municipal Airport."
With a determined clench of my jaw, I agreed. I was prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect Courtney. As I left Bella Vita, my thoughts were consumed with strategies and fallback plans. But amidst the whirlwind of planning, one resolve remained steadfast—I couldn’t wait to hold Courtney in my arms again.
ChapterFive
Courtney
A tumultuous flutterof nerves cascaded through me as I stood at Laramie Airport. The echoes of bustling passengers were a distant murmur. Four months had transformed into an eternity since I last saw Brad. The prospect of our reunion set my heart on a rollercoaster ride, with anxiety overwhelming the joy of the occasion, nipping at my calm.
In need of a distraction, I reached for my phone. But as I aimlessly scrolled through social media, I knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Instead, my thoughts were ensnared by Brad—his infectious laughter and the sparkle in his eyes during our video calls. His image was carved into my mind's canvas.
The magnitude of how much I missed him was daunting. But it was an admission I wasn't quite ready to confront.
Amidst my anticipation, a pang of guilt snuck up on me. Jenna. I hadn't told her about my sudden departure. She'd been in the library when I left, her nose buried in textbooks and her mind a million miles away from whatever secret I might be harboring. Pulling up our text conversation, I chewed my lip, pondering what to say.
ME: Hey Jenna! Got an unexpected trip back to San Diego—family stuff. Be back in a few days!
