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Either way, it seems a conversation between us is in order. He needs to unfuck this situation so that my father can get justice. That, or he can get out of my way.
Sliding into my vehicle, I slam the door shut with enough force to make the windows rattle.
It’s rare that I lose control, but I’m so angry that it’s hard to rein in the fury. My stepmother’s distraught face flitters through my mind.
“Promise me you’ll make them pay, Noah,” she begged. “Whoever took Leonardo from me needs to pay.”
Sylvia may not be my biological mother, but she’s the only one I have. And I promised her.
I toss the bag containing the last items my father carried with him onto the passenger seat. When it lands, the contents shift, spreading out inside the plastic.
Sunlight streaming through the windshield glints off the gold rings he favored. One for his forefinger, one for his middle, and…
Frowning, I grab the bag and bring it in for closer inspection. There are three rings. My father only wore two.
I take out the heavy silver ring. It’s definitely one I’ve never seen before. Ornate, with an intertwinedWand anHengraved on the top and a ruby set in the center of them.
For a long while, I peer at it, wondering where the hell it could have come from. If he’d ever worn such a large thing, I would have noticed. And why would he have worn it at all? Those aren’t his initials.
Whatever the reason, he had it with him when he died. Which makes this a very important clue.
I’m willing to bet that whoever W.H. is knows what happened to him. Or better yet, he may be the murderer.
2
NOAH
Idon’t go directly home. Instead, I drive around the city for hours, my mind set on overdrive. The ring the medical examiner gave me remains tight in my fist, seeming heavier than it is because of its possible significance.
It’s warm against my skin, pulsing like a living thing that has meaning. A purpose.
I know who killed Leonardo,it whispers in my head.
It holds a secret I need, one I’m not going to be able to pry from its grasp alone.
Out of respect for his position, I decide to give Joaquin a chance to fix his relationships with the D.A. and the chief of police. Not only are they essential to our criminal operations, but they’re necessary in keeping the murder case open.
My cousin lives on a yacht he keeps in his Blue Bay Marina near the Lanoka Harbor.
Three armed men approach my car as I pull up to the gate.
“Niko.” I nod to one of them. “I need to speak with Joaquin.”
“He’s with a girl,” he says. “Said he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“I don’t give a fuck. It’s important.”
Niko inclines his head respectfully. “If you say it is, then it is, boss.” He steps back and waves his arm over his head. “Let him through.”
After passing through the heavily guarded gate, I park beside Joaquin’s silver Toyota Supra and hop over the railing onto the wood deck.
TheLucky Lady, my cousin’s pride and joy, is a seventy-foot yacht and is a giant compared to most of the other boats in the marina. He has always liked being bigger in everything, something that I believe stems from his small stature.
I move over the floating deck and passarelle and onto the boat. But I pause near the companionway when the sounds of groans and moans reach my ears.
“Tell me you like it, bitch,” Joaquin says. “You like it when I fuck your ass like this, don’t you, you fucking slut.”
The woman he’s with makes a muffled sound before crying out, “I like it. I like it, Daddy. Fuck my ass.”
