Michael
“So,” Katie says as she settles into the SUV. “How was it?”
I stare straight ahead. I don’t want to answer because answering means admitting that Olive fucking Garden was good.
I’ll have to admit the breadsticks were incredible, and that I’m already thinking about the leftover shrimp fettuccine alfredo sitting in the takeout container in the SUV’s tiny refrigerator.
“It was okay,” I say.
Sarah bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. Don’t be a little bitch. Just admit you loved it.”
I glance at her in the rearview mirror. “I said it was fine.”
That only makes her and Luca laugh harder.
Katie leans across the center console with a grin. “It’s okay, babe. You can eat your leftovers in secret.”
I shake my head. “Let’s just go watch your dumbass movie.”
She smiles and falls back against the passenger seat. “Okay.”
I get my satisfaction once we’re inside the theater and Katie nearly climbs into my lap the second someone gets murdered onscreen.
She swears she loves horror movies, but I’m starting to think she actually just enjoys being terrified.
Most of the movie is spent with her face buried against my shoulder while I hold popcorn she’s too distracted to eat.
“Doll,” I whisper, amused, “his death was incredibly avoidable.”
“Shut up.”
“He literally walked into a dark classroom alone.”
“Michael, I’m serious.”
I grin and kiss the top of her head while she refuses to look at the screen. The second the killer appears onscreen, her fingers knot in the front of my shirt.
“Babe,” she whispers urgently, eyes squeezed shut, “tell me when this part is over.”
I look down at her. “You dragged me here.”
“And now I regret my choices.”
Luca starts laughing two seats over.
“This is pathetic,” he says.
Sarah smacks his arm. “Leave her alone.”
Halfway through the movie, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it at first, figuring whatever it is can wait until the latest victim finishes getting dismembered in a high school gymnasium. Five minutes later, it buzzes again. I pull my phone out and glance at the screen. It’s Marco.
Fuck.
“Hey,” I whisper to Katie. “I need to call Marco.”
She looks up at me. “What? You’re just going to leave me here alone?”
I bite back a smile and lean toward Sarah.
“Sarah, I need to make a phone call.” I point toward Katie. “You’re on emotional support duty.”
Sarah snorts. “I got her.”
I lift a brow before looking back at Katie.
“See? Sarah’s gonna protect you from the fake chainsaw murderer.”
Katie narrows her eyes at me. “You better hurry your ass up.”
“I will.”
“You missed the entire football field scene because of your phone already.”
“I know, Doll.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. Go handle your mysterious billionaire business.”
Luca starts choking on his drink beside her while I try very hard not to react to that sentence.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her instead.
I lean down and kiss her forehead before slipping out of the theater.
Marco answers on the first ring. “Boss, I have some info.”
“Talk.”
“We have a possible sighting of Sal.”
My hand tightens around the phone.
“Where?”
“Charleston.”
“You mean that fucker crossed the country?”
“We’re still verifying it,” Marco says carefully. “But the description matches, and the guy used one of Sal’s old aliases checking into a motel outside the city.”
I go quiet for a second, staring through the glass doors at the parking lot outside the theater. That sneaky little fuck.
“I want every contact we have on the East Coast watching bus stations, airports, train terminals, all of it. Tighten the fucking reins, Marco.”
“We’re already moving people.”
“Move more. Find him before he gets comfortable.”
“We will.”
“No,” I correct quietly. “You and Luca are going to catch the motherfucker before I have to.”
“Yes, Boss.”
I end the call and stare down at my reflection in the dark phone screen for a second before slipping it back into my pocket. Sal knows better than this. He knows what kind of man I am. He knows what happens to people who go behind my back.
The fact that he ran anyway tells me he’s desperate. Desperate men are dangerous, but they’re also sloppy. Which means it’s only a matter of time before we catch the motherfucker.
A scream echoes faintly through the theater walls followed by Katie’s terrified shriek, and just like that, the tension in my chest loosens. I shake my head and head back toward Theater Six where my girl is probably halfway into a panic attack over a man in a plastic prom crown with a chainsaw.
When I slide back into my seat, Katie abandons Sarah and curls into my side instead.
“You abandoned me,” she whispers dramatically.
I chuckle. “I was gone five minutes.”
“Seven,” Sarah corrects from the other side of her.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
Katie huffs and settles deeper against me. “I almost died while you were gone.”
I glance at the screen where a teenager is actively being chased with a chainsaw.
“Seems like someone else has that covered.”
By the time we make it back to the estate, it’s already after midnight. Sarah and Luca stopped in for a bit when we got home because Katie insisted Sarah needed to see some outfit she bought.
Luca lingers in the foyer with me.
“Marco called,” I say quietly.
Luca’s expression hardens. “What’d he say?”
“Someone saw Sal.”
“Where?”
“Charleston.”
Luca mutters a curse under his breath. I lean against the wall and look up the stairs for a second. Sal really crossed the entire fucking country trying to run from me. It almost would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so stupid.
The motherfucker wasn’t just feeding information out for money.
He was creating pressure in places that normally stayed quiet.
Harbor Street has become a constant issue.
Inspectors are paying closer attention to shipments tied to my docks.
Containers that should’ve moved through clean are being slowed down just enough to be noticed.
None of it’s catastrophic on its own, and that’s what makes it smart.
One problem gets ignored. Five problems start creating patterns.
Patterns turn into investigations. Investigations turn into subpoenas.
Subpoenas turn into federal eyes on my docks. Sal knew exactly what he was doing.
Money was probably part of it. It usually is.
Men start thinking they deserve more than what they already have.
More power. More influence. More money than the organization is already putting in their pockets.
But the longer I think about it, the less I believe money was the only reason.
Money explains greed. It doesn’t explain patience.
It doesn’t explain months of feeding information out carefully enough that nobody noticed until real damage had already been done.
That kind of betrayal takes confidence. It takes somebody convincing Sal he’d be protected once this all blew up. It takes somebody making him believe he could help chip away at my organization and survive long enough to enjoy the payoff afterward. That’s the part bothering me now.
Sal wasn’t smart enough to build something like this on his own.
He was a soldier, not a strategist. He heard things because he stood close enough to hear them, because trusted men become part of the background after enough years around you.
Somebody else had to be directing him. Somebody else had to be telling him what information mattered and where to send it once he got it.
Which means Sal running doesn’t solve the problem. It just proves there’s somebody else out there waiting for him to stay hidden long enough to become useful again.
“Marco’s moving people already,” I say. “But I want more eyes out there.”
Luca nods. “I’ll handle it.”
I know he will. There are very few people in this world I trust completely. Luca and Marco are at the top of that list.
I look toward the stairs again when I hear Katie’s laugh drifting down. It’s warm, happy, and mine. Sal threatened that. He threatened this organization, and he threatened my peace. He’s not going to get away with that, and he’s going to pay for it with his fucking life.