3. Thea
3
Thea
I plucked at my now short hair and grimaced. The bathroom haircut I’d given myself wasn’t up to salon standard, but having long hair almost to my waist tended to attract attention.
The pizzeria guys hadn’t paid me much attention earlier, but that was mostly because I’d pushed my hair under a hat and worn dark glasses. In addition, they were ridiculously busy dealing with the early evening crowd, which meant flirting wasn’t on the cards.
I still planned to dye my hair, but the baseball cap and hooded sweater I wore helped hide my figure and features.
The thick cotton garment still smelled of Milo. Each time I moved, I got a whiff of his signature scent: pine and citrus. My heart squeezed in my chest as I thought about him and the others.
Were they mad at me? Had Kyril gone full-psycho and torn the apartment to bits in a rage?
I hoped not. Declan didn’t seem the forgiving type.
Eden was probably furious with me, too. I’d told her the pregnancy test was negative, but since there hadn’t been anywhere to stash the used test, I’d hidden it at the back of the cupboard in her bathroom. Eden was no fool. She would have found it by now and realized I’d lied.
What a shit friend I was.
The bar was busy, filled with students taking advantage of cheap alcohol and a few disreputable types clearly hoping to sell them drugs.
I pushed my way through a group of 20-something men and women, avoiding all eye contact, but they were too busy chatting to care about a grungy-looking girl in ripped jeans and a shapeless top.
It seemed like an odd place for Dario’s father to drink in, but I trusted his judgment. We weren’t in Sicily, so the likelihood of my father’s men being in the vicinity was low. That would change once I caught the ferry to Messina.
I made my way to the bar and ordered a sparkling water. No alcohol for me, which was a pity. I could have done with a drink to ease my nerves. While the whole point of being here was to find my father and Torrance, it didn’t stop me from being afraid of what would happen when I did.
I was many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. Fear was good. Fear ensured I didn’t take any unnecessary risks.
The barman passed me my drink and then moved on to serve the next customer. I scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of Fausto, so I moved to a quiet corner and waited. The minutes ticked by as loud music pumped from speakers. All around me, people talked, laughed, flirted, and enjoyed the remainder of their festive break.
Most people would be heading back to work tomorrow. Back to the grind of paid employment. Not me, however. My father had never paid me for the work I did. Unless meals and a roof over my head counted.
Another twenty minutes passed. I was on the verge of giving up when I saw a hunched figure enter via the side door, wearing a thick padded jacket and a wool hat. He stood out among the mostly youthful patrons of this bar.
When the man got closer, I recognized the angular planes of his face and square jaw. This was what Dario would look like in 30 years: still handsome, but a little worn around the edges.
“Thea,” Fausto murmured in a low voice when he reached me before pulling me in for a hug and kissing both cheeks. “You look well, cara. ”
“As do you,” I lied, clocking the lines etched around his eyes and pallor of his skin.
“I will be once he’s dead,” Fausto gritted out as he slid into my corner booth, well away from the main seating area. Nobody took any notice of us as we sat huddled together, although I kept a watchful eye on both exits. I’d tucked the gun into my waistband, but unless things went south, I had no plans to use it.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Fausto apologized. He hadn’t bothered with a drink, so I assumed he wasn’t planning on staying for long. “I thought someone was following me, so I asked my driver to take a circuitous route.”
My gaze snapped away from the guys laughing a few feet away and focused on Fausto.
“Do you think my father is questioning your loyalty?” I hoped not, or we were both fucked. I needed Fausto to pin down Dad’s location. Without his intel, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Sicily was his base, but he rarely spent much time there.
“I’m not sure.” He scrubbed his jaw. “He’s been on edge since the attack on the estate and losing you girls has caused him significant problems with Marku.”
That made sense. Marku had paid up-front. If my father didn’t hand me over soon, Marku would want a refund.
“Dad could give Konstantin his money back. That would resolve the problem.” It wouldn’t heal his hurt pride, though. His men had fucked up and the whole escapade had made him look weak. Dad hated weakness of any sort.
“He doesn’t have the money. He’s in debt to the Cartel. The money went straight to them in part-payment.”
“In debt? Why?” Dad had no ties to the South American cartels that I was aware of. When had this changed?
“He made a deal with the Cantaloa Cartel to distribute cocaine. Only the cops busted the shipment before it could be sold on. He’s in deep shit, Thea.”
He certainly was. Santiago ‘Angel’ Cantaloa was ruthless. He’d kill my father in a heartbeat if he thought he was trying to cheat him out of money. Hmm . Maybe I wouldn’t need to do a thing. If the cartel’s hitmen were after Dad, they’d do my job for me.
“How likely is it Cantaloa will put a hit on Dad?”
“If he can’t repay his debt, very likely. Cantaloa is not to be messed with. I did warn him, but he ignored me. But it won’t happen yet. Cantaloa will give him a bit longer.”
“How much does he owe?”
Fausto sighed. “More than he has in liquid assets right now.”
“And he lost his beloved car collection, which he could have sold.” Some of those vehicles were worth a fortune.
“Yes, that is still a sore point.” I chuckled softly to myself. When I heard about the explosion, it had made my day. Nobody deserved to lose his toys more than my father.
Fausto’s serious expression soon wiped the smile off my face.
“There is a risk that Cantaloa will come after you for the debt if you kill Francesco. You’re Francesco’s daughter and heir, which makes you next in line. Cantaloa doesn’t know about you, but he will find out. You can be sure of that. And if he does, he might try to use you as leverage or take you as payment.”
Fantastic . Yet another man wanting to control me. Fuck that. I’d sooner die than give myself up to a cartel drug lord.
“Isn’t he married?”
“Not yet, but he is engaged.”
I remembered reading some story on TMZ while bored one evening. “Carmen Rodriguez.” I’d seen her photos online. The woman was stunning. How she’d got mixed up with a cartel drug lord was a mystery. It seemed like a dumb move for any forward-thinking female. That said, Santiago was hot as hell. He looked a bit like Dario, but more psychotic.
“I doubt his woman would appreciate him adding me to his household.”
“He’d sell you on, Thea.” Of course he would. People trafficking was all in a day’s work for the cartel. I wasn’t sure if Santiago trafficked human cargo, but the other cartels definitely did. It was a huge money spinner for them. Last I checked, Santiago was more into drugs and cybercrime. That, too, made a fuck ton of money.
“Well I can’t second-guess what Cantaloa might or might not do. He isn’t my most pressing problem. The longer my dad’s still breathing, the more likely it is someone will find me and hand me over to him or Torrance. If Dad passes me on to Marku, I may as well shoot myself in the head.”
I was joking, but also not. The thought of ending up a brood mare to a fat, old, and generally disgusting Romanian mobster held zero appeal.
“Don’t say that, Thea,” Fausto scolded. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time.” He leaned in. “I have enough evidence now to put Francesco away for life, but the DIA moves at glacial speed. By the time they review the evidence, one of his informants will have spilled the news and he’ll be in the wind. Plus he’d know it came from me, so while my only concern is the safety of my son, you, and Verity, I can’t help if I’m dead. Capisce ?”
I nodded. He was right. If Dad was arrested, he’d know the evidence originated from Fausto. Fausto was privy to all my father’s financial dealings.
“However, I am concerned he’s become suspicious of me.”
“What makes you think that?” Dad had always treated Fausto as a friend. Well, as much of a friend as a man like my father could ever have. Like any good sociopath, he didn’t do friends.
“He’s stopped confiding in me, and I’ve had people following me since you were taken. He also failed to invite me to the wedding, which was a surprise given how he’s always invited me to events before.”
I hadn’t noticed Fausto’s absence at the wedding. But then I’d had a lot to deal with, so…
“He’s probably tapped your phone and emails, too.”
“Yes, hence why I’m using a burner phone and have switched to a throwaway email account for all communications with Dario and you.”
“Does Dario know I’m here?”
Fausto’s eyes softened. “No, I kept that from him. It is safer if he doesn’t know.” He was right. Had Dario been aware of my plan, he’d have come after me, with Kyril on his heels.
The last thing I needed was my two guard dogs in hot pursuit, killing anyone who so much as looked at me twice. That was not the kind of attention anyone needed, frankly.
“Fausto, you need to be careful.”
“I know, cara . I’m taking precautions. If anything happens to me, the files I have on Francesco will be sent straight to the DIA and a few reputable journalists. I have a trusted friend who knows where all the bodies are buried. But it’s not me I’m worried about. I’m old. I’ve lived my life, for better or worse, but you and Dario have your whole lives ahead of you.”
“There is no me and Dario,” I muttered.
“Thea… he made a mistake.”
“He didn’t trust me, Fausto. That hurt. Still hurts.”
Fausto reached out and took my hand. The music faded until it was just the two of us, talking quietly, as we always did when teenage-me used to sneak out and spend time with the man who’d been more of a father to me than my actual father.
“I know he hurt you, sweetheart. I tried to make him see, but he was young and stubborn. Lacking in confidence. You’d blossomed into a beautiful young woman and he never quite believed in himself. It was all too easy to think your attention would have drifted to other people. He knows now, of course, but back then… Torrance manipulated him.”
Torrance was always good at manipulating people. “He apologized,” I admitted.
“Good. At least he had the balls to do that.”
Fausto squeezed my hand and then sat back, and for the millionth time, I wished my father had been more like the kind-hearted man sitting next to me.
We talked and reminisced some more, but it was late, and the bar had begun to clear out. The longer we lingered, the more people would notice me.
“Francesco has a meeting in Milan in three days. I’ll see if I can find out the details and text them to you. In the meantime, if you need anything, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“I will do. Watch your back, Fausto. Dario would be devastated if anything happened to you. As would I.”
“Don’t worry about me, cara. ” He sent a quick message to his driver, kissed me on the cheek, and left. The barman was too busy wiping down the counter to pay me any attention as I drained the last of my water and slipped toward the exit with my head down.
A few drunk students hovered around, laughing about some show they all liked. Just as I reached for the door, a black car sitting a few hundred meters from the bar blew up.
The blast threw me backward. Windows around us shattered and a wave of intense heat scorched my skin. People screamed. Car alarms along the street burst into life, and the stench of burning plastic and flesh assailed my nose.
The remaining patrons of the bar froze in shock. For a moment, nobody said a word, then a young couple burst into tears as we heard sirens approach. Knowing there was nothing I could do to help, I pushed through the shattered door and turned right.
Fausto and his driver were dead, and I had a good idea who was responsible.