Chapter 12 Giovanni
GIOVANNI
Istep out of the pub and let the door swing shut behind me.
The night is cool, sharp enough to clear my head. I pause on the sidewalk, adjust my jacket, then take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number I know by heart.
Nico answers on the second ring.
“You’re up late,” he says.
“So are you.”
A quiet breath on the other end. “What do you need, Giovanni?”
“There’s a girl,” I say. “Coral Price. She disappeared three years ago.”
I start walking, slow and unhurried, keeping my eyes on the reflection in the darkened storefronts. “She’d be about twenty-two now. Vanished in the city. No body was found.”
Nico is silent for a moment.
“Price,” he says at last. “Like Amber Price?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Longer this time. I don’t need a soothsayer to know what he’s thinking.
“I’ll look into it myself,” he says finally. “If it matters to you, it matters.”
It shouldn’t ease something in my chest, but it does.
“But,” Nico continues, “we need to talk about something else.”
I exhale through my nose. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“You’re still without a second,” he says. “Lorenzo has been gone too long.”
“He’s not gone,” I reply. “He’s where he needs to be.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I’m doing fine on my own.”
A faint sound—almost a laugh. “That’s not true.”
I stop walking.
“Men like us,” Nico says gently, “we need shadows. If only to point us back toward the light.”
I close my eyes for half a second.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“You always say that.”
“And you always keep calling.”
“Because you keep being a dickhead,” Nico replies evenly. “I’ll send my updates your way. You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em.”
It’s a cryptic way to put it, but that’s Nico for you. Never does anything the easy way.
After that, the line goes dead.
I lower the phone and slip it back into my pocket, then start walking again.
Amber is a block ahead of me.
I keep my distance. Always have.
It’s a private indulgence, one I’ve allowed myself since the first night I noticed her behind the bar. A sin without witnesses. I don’t get closer than necessary.
I just watch.
She walks with purpose, keys threaded between her fingers the way women learn to do early. Her shoulders are squared, her steps brisk. Alert, but not enough.
She hasn’t noticed me yet.
That worries me.
For all her suspicion, for all her sharp questions and stubborn defiance, she doesn’t know how easily a man can disappear into the rhythm of a city night. How simple it is to be a shadow if you know where to stand.
I make sure she reaches her building safely. I watch her fumble with the door, curse softly when the lock sticks, then slip inside.
Only then do I turn away.
I’ve taken three steps when I hear it.
Amber, screaming.