2. Jasper #2
If this night has a silver lining, it’s that I’m reigniting the obsession of my most fascinating subject, except this time, she won’t be able to fool me.
I’ve seen her true colors, figured out her real motives, and like the coward she is, the only thing she did was run away from the fucking mess she left in her wake.
Behave yourself, little ice princess, because I’m fucking coming for you.
In this motel room, the days blend into the nights, and my eyes never get a chance to fully adjust to the sunlight, as I stare at a computer screen for hours on end, wishing my brother were here to lessen the burden of this tech shit I can never figure out.
Tyson’s been gone awhile now, but his absence is felt in every minuscule thing I do, especially when it comes to my relentless search for Carter.
I’ve searched her name in every possible spelling, combing through DMV records, social media accounts, and even passport applications.
I’ve become desperate enough to open my inquiries internationally, but everyday is another that passes with no new information, and I’m beginning to crumble under the light of a million suns, reducing to ash at every dead end.
I’m not tech skilled, but I was bred to hunt, and this elusive prey is beginning to get the best of me as I doubt my true abilities in the face of her impressive disappearance.
My patience lives on a tightrope these days, but when Rocco Corazza’s name flashes on my phone, I immediately pick it up, silently hoping he’s delivering a shred of good news.
“Listen, Masseria, this is it. This is the last favor I can make happen, solely out of respect for your situation,” he starts, cutting straight through the pleasantries and getting right down to business.
There’s a certain respect between Corazza and I, both of us being so young and wrestling with responsibilities left on our shoulders, but he embraces his legacy, whereas I’m happy to let mine rot in the ground with the rest of the Masseria men who died that day.
“All I’ve wanted is the guy from the restaurant, Rocco. He’s the key to finding out who she really is,” I say, rehashing the same conversation we’ve had over the last couple of months.
Something that hasn’t sat right with me since the attack was how Carter handled the man from Manhattan, her claims that he was a part of the kidnapping attempt at Emory being debunked – since the guy was in a different state at the time – after further digging done by Rocco and I.
She lied about his identity, but the reason why is what haunts my days and nights, it likely being the smoking gun behind her whereabouts.
I’ve begged to talk to this man multiple times, promising that I wouldn’t lay a finger on him, but Rocco has been protective, his leadership credibility under fire after letting a girl torture a man from his crew without a shred of evidence.
“He’ll give you five minutes, under two conditions,” Rocco starts, but I cut him off, my heart thumping so loud in my chest, it rattles my bones.
“Done,” I race to say, fully prepared to give him whatever asks in exchange for a conversation.
“First, it’s over a phone call. He’s still coming to terms with the fact that he’s missing fingers, so I kind of owe him a few favors,” he says, an aggravated tone in his voice, but I’m so fucking giddy that I barely recognize it, my focus lasered on the only lead I’ve had in months.
“Fine. I just need information.” I agree, and he hums in response, sucking in a sharp breath before continuing.
“The second thing is a bit tougher. He wants his pound of flesh, a thumb for a thumb, so to speak,” he says, and I shrug it off, not even hesitating to hand over whatever the fuck it takes to get closer to my holy grail.
“When I find her, he gets his kickbacks, too.” I seal the deal, beats of silence raining over the call while he shuffles around, and I pace the room, the caged animal finally being released at the chance to dig deeper into the woman with the longest line of men waiting to get their revenge.
“She’s the daughter of a Don. Cassini … I worked for him for awhile on the West Coast,” he stammers, and I stop dead in my tracks, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“West Coast? You’re sure?”
“Positive. She’s his number one, the old man is on his ninth life, and she’s been set to take the seat for years,” he explains, but I barely hear his words as my world finally comes into focus, the blinders I was wearing regarding Carter being stripped away.
It all clicks into place, the ruthlessness of the girl I loved finally resulting in a true explanation, something I should’ve realized long ago.
No twenty year old is that skilled in torture, oblivious to murder, or obsessed with the sight of blood without having grown up around the worst of the worst, and I of all people, should’ve recognized that very alarming detail more than anyone.
She’s exactly like me, born and trained into this life, and while I was lost in what seemed like my perfect match, she was playing on my weaknesses, relating to the darkest places in my soul with nothing but lies.
“What else did she say?” I dig my heels back in, pushing my racing thoughts aside as I extract every drop of information this man has to offer.
“She force fed me everything I said like a script, threatened to chop off my dick if I didn’t cooperate.
Listen, I’ve met her father, and while men don’t scare me, Luca Cassini is the one human who put the fear of God into my heart.
Obviously, his daughter is no better, and I’m missing a fucking thumb because of it,” he confesses, and while I roll my eyes at this pathetic sucker, I can also empathize with him because I fell into her same fucking trap, losing much more than a finger when all was said and done.
“Any idea where I could find her?”
“California.”
California.
I’ve never been West, and up until now, I’ve had no desire to see the opposite coast, but my body is electrified as I grab a brand new poster board, ready to research every-fucking-thing about Carter Ruby Cassini from California.