Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Henry
I could draw his face from memory with the amount of time I’d stared at it.
The man I killed.
The man who tried to take Ariana.
His image flickered across the monitors, looped into the facial recognition software I’d built myself. It had been scanning nonstop for two days. Still nothing. No driver’s license. No immigration record. No Interpol flags or FBI hits. Not even a whisper in the dark web forums I tracked.
He was a ghost.
And I’d never liked ghosts.
I leaned back, scrubbing a hand down my face. I’d hoped we’d have some sort of lead by now. A half-buried traffic ticket. A grainy security cam hit. But that didn’t happen. It was as if he’d never officially existed.
Without being able to identify him using even questionably legal means, I needed to look outside the box, so I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the one I needed.
“Henry Fontaine,” Salvatore answered on the second ring, his voice low and deep. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I’m calling in one of my favors,” I said.
A brief silence passed over the line before he replied, “You have my attention. How can I be of service?”
“Have you heard anything out of Miami lately?”
Salvatore snorted. “Miami’s a cesspool. I avoid it like an ex-wife. Plus, it’s not exactly Italian friendly down there, from a Familia stand point.”
“I understand. I just didn’t know if you’d heard anything in the course of…doing business.”
I wasn’t sure how else to phrase it, considering Salvatore was a capo in the Vitello family, the largest mafia organization on the east coast. His definition of doing business was vastly different from mine.
Despite that, we’d formed a sort of alliance over the years. I helped him out on occasion, knowing he would be a good person to have on my side in certain circumstances.
Like right now.
“Care to be more specific?” he pressed.
As much as I didn’t want to go into the details, Salvatore had proven to be someone I could trust. That was the odd thing about dealing with the mafia. They may have been engaged in various criminal enterprises, but honor was of the utmost importance to them.
Salvatore would never use anything I told him against me.
“Two days ago, I witnessed a man abduct…someone.”
“Someone?”
“Yes. I intervened. He’s dead. I’ve been trying to ID him for two days. There’s nothing. Not a single breadcrumb. My colleague captured some prints before disposing of the body, but even that hasn’t uncovered anything.”
“So he’s a ghost.”
“It looks that way. I just thought you might have heard something in your circles.”
“Not yet. But I’ll put some feelers out.”
“Thanks, Sal. I appreciate it.”
“Give me a few days. I’ll call when I’ve got something.”
He didn’t say goodbye. Just ended the call.
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on me. I hated unknowns. Hated uncertainties. And this entire situation was becoming more and more uncertain with every day.
I returned my gaze to the monitors with the intention of rechecking Victor Kane’s financials when a movement on one of the screens caught my eye.
Ariana.
Slinking down the corridor like she wasn’t sure where she was going, but damn certain she didn’t want to be caught getting there.
I smiled despite myself.
I had a feeling it was only a matter of time before she started snooping. So I didn’t stop her. Instead, I watched as she moved toward the closet containing the gun cabinet and opened the door, staring at the contents.
Leaning in closer, I hit a few buttons on the keyboard and the camera zoomed in on her face.
Her brows were furrowed, lips pinched. This was her thinking face.
I’d only known her a few days, but I already recognized it.
And I knew exactly what she was thinking.
How she could take one of those rifles, use it on me, and escape.
She didn’t so much as reach for one, though.
Instead, she closed the door and headed toward the garage, placing her hand on the knob. But she didn’t open the door right away. She slowly lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. Toward the camera installed in the corner. Then, as if she knew I was watching her, she smirked.
I gripped the arms of my chair, imagining all the ways I could wipe that smirk off her face.
And I’d enjoy every single one.
She turned the knob and stepped into the garage.
I switched the camera feed, watching as she looked between the Jeep and the truck.
Just like when she found the guns, I could see the wheels turning in her head yet again.
How she could use one of them to drive away from here.
It would be so easy, considering the keys to each vehicle hung on the wall beside her.
It wouldn’t take more than a few seconds to determine which set belonged to which car.
“Come on,” I muttered, sitting on the edge of my chair. “Go for it.”
The seconds seemed to stretch as I watched her with bated breath. Saw her float her eyes to the keys, then back to the vehicles again. I was surprised how badly I wanted her to try to escape just so I could go after her. Chase her. Hunt her.
I hadn’t had a good hunt in a while now.
But she didn’t reach for any of the keys. She simply turned and walked away, leaving the vehicles untouched.
My shoulders deflated, but I continued watching her like a peeping Tom as she moved through the living room before disappearing into the study. I quickly switched to that feed, ignoring everything else I should be doing. Ignoring the reason I came down here in the first place.
None of that mattered right now. All that did was watching her.
She ran her fingers across the spines of the books like they were sacred. Like each one held secrets or memories only she could hear. When she read some titles, her lips curved into a smile. Others, her eyes would glisten with nostalgia. And others, her brows would pinch in curiosity.
For nearly ten minutes, I couldn’t look away as she scrupulously made a mental list of each and every book I owned.
But then she paused and bent down, one book having caught her attention.
What did she find?
I squinted, zooming in further.
When I was finally able to make out the cover, I stiffened, every muscle in my body going rigid.
I’d forgotten that book was in there. I should have known, considering that entire room was filled with my mother’s favorite books. What were the chances that, out of the hundreds of books lining the walls, Ariana would find that one?
I bolted to my feet, my pulse thudding louder with every step I ran up the stairs and through the cabin.
By the time I stormed into the library, she was curled up in one of the reading chairs, flipping through the pages. Her eyes shot up as I entered. Wide. Startled.
Afraid.
It almost stopped me cold.
Almost.
I crossed the room in three long strides and ripped the book out of her hands.
“Don’t touch this,” I snapped, my voice low and sharp. “You don’t get to touch this.”
She looked at me with stunned eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you thought.” I clenched the book tighter, rage lashing against my ribs. “You don’t touch this book. You can read any other book in here. But not this one. Do you understand?”
My voice thundered in the room, the echo seeming to mock me as she stared at me.
But she didn’t back down.
“Who’s Spencer?”
I opened my mouth, on the brink of answering her.
But I refused to go there with her. Refused to let her pry into my past. Offer me some sort of feigned compassion.
I spun around and walked out, gripping the book like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.