Chapter 58
58
Two days later…
Roman
“ U nless you’re here to tell me you’ve found her, get the fuck out of my study.”
Leon ignores the bile in my tone and shakes his head. “No dice. But I do know why Vercotti is still alive.”
I look at him, barely able to focus. I haven’t slept, eaten, or drunk anything other than whiskey since my wife disappeared. This could be a hallucination, and I wouldn’t know any better.”
“So tell me,” I say.
“After I called Kolya, he appealed to the mafia commission to call a moratorium on business and hostilities between our factions so we could go all in on the search. It was agreed that we could not move forward until Silvio Vercotti was apprehended.”
“What the fuck does this have to do with it?” I snap, sitting at the desk and resting my forehead on it.
“Bernard Familio got twitchy and went to his commission’s top man to confess. He took Vercotti to JFK, but he let him go. Put him on a plane to Naples, apparently, so he could go live with his nonna . Needless to say, the bastard barely stopped in Italy for a piss before he was wheels-up and back in New York.”
“Why?” I roar, sweeping papers to the ground.
“Remember Bernard’s father, the guy who ended up crispy in the Two Pines fire?” Leon clears his throat. “So it turns out Bernard despised his dear old Papa and will now inherit a bunch of money, thanks to Vercotti. There was also something about an old debt Bernard never repaid to Vercotti’s father, Don Giovanni. It was an honor thing.”
I run my hands over my scalp, gripping my hair so tightly I almost pull it out at the roots. “A what now?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Roman. I only?—”
I leap to my feet and flip the desk, and it crashes to the ground, the green banker’s lamp smashing to pieces.
“Silvio Vercotti has no fucking honor!” I shout. “He was my friend. He turned on me, and for what? Now he’s taken my wife.”
I punch the wall, popping my knuckle, but the pain barely registers. “My fucking wife , Leon! Where is Bernard now?”
“No one is willing to tell me that, for obvious reasons,” he replies. “Drop it; it’s not important. We gotta stay on task here.”
He’s right, of course, but he doesn’t get it. White-hot fury rolls and boils inside me, only growing with every minute that passes without my Quinn safe and at my side.
I curse my stupidity for underestimating Silvio’s hatred of me, for allowing the komissiya to take the reins and not allow me to murder the fucker.
I allow myself a mirthless laugh. Ironically, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been trying to move forward and grow.
Quinn made me want to be a better person. I tried to take her compassion to heart and be the man she deserved.
The future was coming for me, and for the first time, it seemed it could be bright. Now my dreams are dust and my love destroyed, just as Silvio’s was when we lost Bianca.
The difference is that his love was a delusion.
Mine is real.
“I’m gonna shake down Vercotti’s former associates again,” Leon says. “Viktor is still trying to track down Ricky Lubomski. All this shit gave him quite a scare, so it’s likely he skipped town, but you never know. Someone must have helped Vercotti; it’s only a matter of time until we find out who.”
He leaves, and I stumble like a zombie to my room. I run the shower cold and stand under it to lift the fog of alcohol and grief.
The intrusive thoughts are what got me on the booze. A sick showreel plays in my mind; Quinn tortured, tied up, beaten. But I can’t think of her being dead. My imagination can’t go there.
In that vision lies the very essence of madness; if that thought takes hold, I’ll never return from it.
My only solace is the knowledge that Silvio is a true sadist. To murder my wife immediately would be to deny himself the fun of making me suffer.
I’m not out looking for Quinn because I’m not rational right now. If I got an inkling someone was keeping something from me, real or imagined, I’d be liable to cave their skull in with my bare hands. Leon and Viktor understood this before I did and encouraged me to do my freaking out at home.
There’s an altogether more straightforward reason, though, and it’s this—at some point, when he’s gorged on fantasies of my torment, he’ll get in touch with me. I’d bet every dime I have.
The icy water does wonders to clear my head. I dress and make coffee, then sit on my balcony, the chill breeze whipping my damp hair.
Until now, I thought I had invaded Quinn’s life, but it was the reverse. Once she got hold of my heart, she warmed it and gave it life.
She’s the one who took control of me, and fool that I was, I didn’t realize other people would see an opportunity.
Her naivete, her goodness—the traits I loved in her made her vulnerable. I knew that. How could I be so stupid to think no one else would notice?
My phone is ringing, and I pick it up to see Quinn’s name on the screen. I know it won’t be her on the line, but I swipe to green, hoping to hear her voice.
“Roman?”
“Quinn!” I stand, spilling my coffee. “Are you hurt, moya zhena ? Jesus Christ. Where are you?”
A muffled cry, a crackle. Then, inevitably, Silvio Vercotti himself.
“How you doing, fuckface?” he asks cordially. “Sleeping well? Not tearing yourself to pieces or anything? I’m so glad.”
“It’s me you want,” I say through gritted teeth. “Tell me where and when, and we can have it out, once and for all. But leave Quinn out of it.”
“You could have stayed away from her, and she wouldn’t be in this mess,” Silvio snaps. “I’d be more than happy to see you, but you come alone. I’ll know if you have anyone with you. Fuck with me, and I’ll gut the bitch before you get to the front porch.”
He’s unraveling. It’s a stupid contingency; I can have some backup hiding less than two minutes away. Or can I? I don’t know what I’m gonna find. Can I risk it?
“Fine. I agree.”
“Wonderful! I’ll send you the location. See you in half an hour.”
“You better not have hurt her, you fucking?—”
He hangs up. Calm down. Steady. Quinn needs me; I can’t lose my shit now.
A buzz heralds a text message, and I stare in disbelief at the address.
I cannot fucking believe it never occurred to me, but then again, the place is unlivable. I knew Silvio had a flair for the dramatic, but I never would have imagined he’d stoop so low as to hole up alone in my sister’s abandoned shack of a house.
There’s no one in my house but me. Everyone is out, running down leads and terrorizing street snitches, looking for that elusive clue that will lead them to Quinn.
One call and I could bring the fury of the whole mob down on Vercotti’s shoulders, but I can’t take that chance.
I’m the pakhan of my bratva and the king of this city. Tonight, I'm a man who'd die for the woman he loves.
I pick up my keys and head for the garage.