Chapter 58
DIANGELO
Present
Tommy, Sante, Renzo, and I meet with three other guys at one of our safe houses. We arm ourselves with enough gear to wage an all-out battle, including communication earpieces. And last, but not least, we all familiarize ourselves with the layout of the taxidermy shop.
It doubles as a pseudo-museum, meaning it’s not just a front desk with a small workshop space in the back. There’s over five thousand square feet to hide. Luckily, we should have the element of surprise.
On the way over, we decide that Renzo and I’ll take two soldiers with us through the front, and Sante and Tommy will take the third man with them through the back.
I wait for them to get in place before signaling my team to leave the car.
We keep our weapons holstered to draw as little attention as possible, then take out our guns as soon as we slip inside.
The door chimes, announcing our arrival.
“We’re in,” I say softly over the comms device while surveying the entry. Animals and insects of all varieties are frozen mid-motion, posing for eternity. They’re everywhere. If I had the time to truly take in the spectacle, it would be creepy as fuck.
“We’re in, as well,” Sante’s voice sounds in my earpiece.
My gaze lands on a man across the room, standing as stock-still as the carcasses surrounding us. He’s reed thin with a thick mustache and round magnifiers hinged onto his wire-rimmed glasses. He blinks, then bolts toward the back.
“We’ve got a man on the run, heading your way,” I warn while launching into pursuit. It doesn’t last long. After rounding two corners, I come to a halt. The taxidermist stands with his hands raised in the middle of the space. Our two teams have him surrounded.
“Got him,” Sante says with a note of wicked amusement.
“Please, I no do anything. Have no money,” says the shop owner with a heavy Russian accent.
I charge forward and grab his shirt, hauling him up off his feet. “Where the fuck is Pasha?” I growl the words with unrestrained savagery. He needs to know I’m not fucking around.
“He not here. Please,” he whimpers. The acrid smell of urine hits my nostrils.
Jesus Christ, he pissed himself.
I toss him against a nearby wall, then crouch over him, snarling. “Tell me where the fuck he is, or I will skin you alive and stuff you like one of your creations.”
His entire body is consumed in violent tremors, but he manages to nod his head toward the opposite wall.
I peer back. “Is there something on the other side of that wall?”
He nods.
“Tommy, circle around.”
He takes off, and we all wait for his return, which only takes a few seconds.
“Seems to be a room sectioned off. The door is just around the corner.”
I narrow my eyes at the man. “They going to be waiting in there for us?”
“No, they leave. Not here.”
“If you’re lying, I will kill you. Understand?”
He clenches his eyes shut and nods.
“You two check it out. Be ready,” I instruct Tommy and Sante.
They round the corner and disappear.
“All clear.” Sante’s voice comes through the comms device.
I take two zip ties from a pocket and secure the taxidermist, then join the others in what seems to be the main workshop.
There are bright spotlights instead of windows and shelves full of equipment and chemicals.
A central table in the middle of the room is covered in peacock parts.
There’s another table against a wall that hosts a laptop and papers. This looks more promising.
We gather around and see scribbled notes, news articles, and piles of photos. Terina walking into yoga. Terina at a coffee shop with Isa. There’s a photo of Azzurra, but the majority are of Terina … and Isa.
“Why’s he got pictures of Isa?” I ask, thinking out loud.
Renzo sifts through the piles. “Those are more recent. It looks like everything beneath is all Terina.” He stills, then looks at me. “Do you think he could have given up on his first target and shifted tactics?”
My heart pounds against my rib cage.
“Fucking hell,” I hiss.
We both take out our phones, our murderous stares colliding when neither Shae nor Terina answers.
“We’ve got to get back to Cosimo’s,” Renzo demands hoarsely.
We all run as though death itself were on our heels.