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“You have ten seconds,” Liam growls.
What’s with these gangsters and their time limits?
I reach into my pocket for my phone, immediately panicking that it’s missing. The one thing I needed, gone. It’s then I realize I haven’t had it since I was officially captured. I look toward Saint. “Do you know where my phone is?”
He narrows his brows and pulls it from his coat pocket. It’s still weird that we’re fully dressed in the ocean, but at this point a unicorn could come flying out of my ass and I’m not sure it would phase me.
I scroll through my Instagram until I find the photo I’m looking for, then point the screen toward Liam with a sense of satisfaction so great, I could pass out from the high.
“Why is this old bitch wearing my mother’s necklace?”
“That’s my boss’s mother. She passed away last month. She talked about that necklace to high heaven. She said her son had bought it for her on a trip to Europe. He set me up. He stole what was in your box and he set me up for taking it.”
“All this for a fucking necklace,” Dante grumbles.
“It’s not a fucking necklace, it’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for centuries. My mother treasured it and my niece was set to be married in it. That is until we went to your bank to make the withdrawal from the box, and it was gone.”
“Why not keep it closer to home?”
“I’ve got a dodgy brother. He refuses to join the cartel and spends his time stealing from the family.” The man’s demeanor shifts. “Why am I telling you any of this? I’ve been to your boss’s house. The necklace isn’t there.”
“That’s because it was in his mother’s possession, I already told you that.” I’m getting snarky now and I feel Saint’s hand squeeze mine tighter.
“You said the mother is dead.”
“Sure did.”
“You smart-ass, little—”
Saint cocks his gun and steps forward, pressing the barrel on the Brit’s neck. “Apologize.”
“That gun is soaking wet,” Liam laughs. “I doubt you’ll get a shot. Either way, I don’t apologize to anyone,” the man says, standing straighter. It’s obvious he’s been held at gunpoint before. He doesn’t even flinch.
I keep focused on my phone, scrolling through Facebook until I find Patrick’s account, then look for his relatives. It looks like he has a sister as well, a sister who was dumb enough to post photos of her in the elaborate necklace that was left to her after her mother died. I could send her a message and tell her what’s going on, but I show the photo to Dante and Luca instead.
“What are you looking at?” the Brit growls. The gun is still to his throat, but he doesn’t care.
Saint shoves the barrel into his neck harder.
Dante nods as though he agrees that I should show him what I’ve found and begins to make a call.
I move toward the Brit and turn my phone toward him. “I can hunt anyone down on social media. It’s my superpower. It looks like when the mother died, she left the necklace to the sister. She lives in Clearwater. She tagged herself at Starbucks on 8thlike twenty minutes ago. You’re welcome.”
My head pounds despite the emotional relief. “Dante just sent men to get it back for you. If it’s not in your big, dirty hands in the next two weeks, come back and kill me then, okay?”
“How do you stand the gob on this woman?” Liam says as he looks toward Saint.
I don’t know what agobis, but I don’t care. All I want right now is twelve Excedrin and a bottle of water.
I hold up my fist, calling for Luca, who immediately moves to my side, turning me back toward the car.
“We haven’t decided on anything yet. How can I trust you’re doing as you promise?”
Saint tucks his gun back into his belt pocket and holds out his hand. “You have the word of the leader of the Italian mafia. If the necklace isn’t returned to you by the end of the week, you have a direct line to me. Lucy has given you all the information you need. Anything further, and you go through me.”
Liam looks Saint over, then straightens his back, and shakes on the deal before muttering something into an expensive watch he’s wearing. Within seconds a motorboat moves up from behind him and he’s helped in before speeding away, leaving the four of us in his wake, almost as though he were never there to begin with.
“See… I told you guys,” I say, leaning into Saint. “We just needed to talk it out.”
