25. In the Heart of Darkness
In the Heart of Darkness
Evelyn
T en hours.
That’s how long it’s been since I last heard from Zeke. Since he texted that he was following a lead and would be home late. Except he never came home at all.
The clear liquid in my glass catches the early morning light as I stand at the kitchen window, watching dawn creep over the manicured lawn of what has somehow become my home.
The gin burns familiar paths down my throat—a poor substitute for sleep, but it helps quiet the constant loop of worst-case scenarios playing through my mind.
Where is he? Is he hurt? Dead in some warehouse while I stand here drinking?
My phone sits silent on the counter, mocking me with its blank screen. I’ve checked it approximately every three minutes since midnight, as if staring at it hard enough might conjure a message from him.
“Get it together, Landry,” I mutter, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. The clink of crystal against the marble counter echoes through the empty kitchen.
Empty. Like Leo’s bedroom upstairs. Like the pit in my stomach that grows deeper with each passing hour.
There’s a sound from the driveway and I tense, hope flaring brief and bright before I recognize Eli’s SUV pulling up. Not Zeke. Just another reminder that my husband— God, that word still feels strange —has an entire operation running without me.
My phone buzzes and I snatch it up, but it’s only Rissa:
Rissa
You up? Got something on that warehouse tip.
My fingers hover over the keys for a moment before I type back:
Eve
Meet me for coffee in 20? Usual spot?
Her response is immediate:
Rissa
On my way.
I drain the last of my gin, grimacing at the burn. Time to make a choice—keep waiting for Zeke and his mysterious “lead,” or take matters into my own hands.
As I grab my jacket, the weight of my service weapon against my hip feels like an answer in itself. I grab Eli on the way out.
“I need a ride,” I say. “Meeting Rissa.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eli doesn’t question me despite the exhaustion written on his face, he just slides back in the driver’s seat and takes me to my destination.
The tiny coffee shop we love is the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the seventies.
The worn vinyl booths and perpetually sticky tables are a far cry from the sleek modernity of Zeke’s world, but there’s something comforting about its shabbiness.
It feels real in a way that much of my life lately doesn’t.
Rissa’s already there when I arrive, two steaming cups on the table in front of her. The dark circles under her eyes suggest she’s had about as much sleep as I have.
“You look like shit,” she greets me cheerfully, sliding one of the cups my way.
“Thanks.” I slip into the booth across from her, wrapping my hands around the warmth of the coffee. “You’re a real friend.”
She studies me over the rim of her cup, dark eyes sharp despite her obvious exhaustion. “Rough night?”
“You could say that.” I take a sip, letting the bitter coffee wash away the lingering taste of gin. “What did you find?”
Rissa glances around before leaning forward, voice dropping.
“So that tip about increased activity at Alessandro’s warehouse where I think Leo is being held?
Well, a few blocks down there’s another one.
I did some digging. Place is owned by a shell company that traces back to the Barone family.
And get this—” She pulls out her phone, showing me a grainy surveillance photo.
“Three separate deliveries in the last twelve hours. Heavy equipment, according to the manifest.”
“What kind of equipment?”
Her expression turns grim. “The kind that comes in long, narrow crates.”
Guns .
“That’s not all,” she continues, swiping to another photo. This one shows a familiar black SUV. “Spotted leaving the warehouse at 4:00 AM.”
My heart stutters. “Alessandro?”
“His driver, at least. Eve…” Rissa hesitates, which is never a good sign. “I think this is it. The big move we’ve been waiting for. Whatever the Costas are planning, the Barone’s are involved too. And it’s happening soon.”
The coffee turns to acid in my stomach as possibilities click into place. Zeke’s disappearance. The weapons shipments. Leo.
“We have to move,” I say, already reaching for my jacket. “Now, before—”
“Wait.” Rissa’s hand shoots out, catching my wrist. “Think about this. If we’re right, if this is their base of operations, they’ll be heavily armed. We need backup.”
“We can’t.” The words come out sharper than intended. “You know we can’t.”
Because how would I explain my personal connection to all this? The fact that my nephew was kidnapped by the same family I’ve been investigating and I didn’t report it? The convenient timing of my marriage to a nightclub owner with his own mysterious past?
Rissa’s grip on my wrist tightens. “Eve, I know you’re worried about Leo. I am too. But going in half-cocked is only going to get us both killed.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. But the thought of Leo alone and scared, waiting for someone to save him makes me sick to my stomach.
“What if…” I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully. “What if we just do recon? Get eyes on the place, confirm our intel before we decide how to proceed?”
Rissa’s expression says she knows exactly what I’m doing, but after a long moment she sighs. “Fine. Recon only. We see anything hinky, we pull back and call it in. Deal?”
“Deal.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I manage a smile. I pull out my phone, thumbs hovering over the keys.
Should I text Zeke? Let him know what we’re planning? But what if he tries to stop us? What if he’s already—
No. I can’t think about that now.
I shove the phone back in my pocket without sending anything. Whatever Zeke’s doing, wherever he is, this can’t wait. Leo needs me.
“Let’s go,” I say, standing.
On the way out I head to Rissa’s car instead of Eli’s. I give him a wave and a curt smile. He stares at me like he doesn’t like this move, but he doesn’t stop me. I get in the car with Rissa and we take off. I don’t even bother to see if he follows. Let him tell Zeke where we’re going.
The drive to the warehouse district is tense with unspoken questions. I can feel Rissa watching me, probably cataloging all the ways this could go wrong. She’s always been the more cautious one of us, more by-the-book. Under normal circumstances, I’d appreciate that.
But these aren’t normal circumstances.
The warehouse district is a maze of identical buildings and empty lots, most showing signs of long neglect. Perfect place for criminal enterprises. Perfect place to hide a kidnapped child.
We park two blocks away from our target, tucking the car between a dumpster and a stack of old shipping containers. Close enough to run to if we need a quick exit, far enough that it won’t immediately draw attention.
“Remember,” Rissa whispers as we creep through the shadows of early morning, “recon only.”
I nod, but my attention is already fixed on the warehouse Leo might be in. It looms ahead of us with its corrugated metal walls, loading dock, small office attached to one side. Two armed guards are outside of it and God knows how many more inside.
We find cover behind a rusty shipping container, close enough to observe but out of sight. The smell of oil and rotting cardboard makes my nose twitch.
“Eve.” Rissa’s voice is barely a breath. “Look.”
A black SUV pulls up to the loading dock, followed by another. And another. Men pour out—at least twenty that I can count, all armed. They mill around for a moment before someone starts barking orders in Italian.
“Something’s wrong,” I murmur, straining to hear. “They’re agitated.”
Rissa shifts beside me. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”
I shake my head. My Italian is so-so. You pick things up working organized crime, but they’re too far away and speaking too fast. Still, their body language tells a story. Tense shoulders. Quick, sharp gestures. The way they keep glancing over their shoulders.
“They’re scared,” I say. “Whatever’s happening, it’s got them spooked.”
“Eve.” Rissa’s voice has that careful tone again. “How many guns do you see?”
I do a quick count and feel my stomach drop. Assault rifles. Submachine guns. Enough firepower to take out half the city.
“They’re preparing for war,” I whisper. The words taste like ash in my mouth.
“What do we do?” Rissa asks, but I can tell from her expression she already knows the answer.
“We can’t just leave.” Even as I say it, I know how it sounds. How many protocols we’re breaking just being here. “Leo’s in there somewhere. I can feel it.”
“And if we go in there, we’ll die.” Rissa’s hand finds mine in the shadows, squeezing hard. “Think about it. Even if we somehow got past all those guards, what then? We have no idea where they’re keeping him. No backup. No way to call for help without this turning into an absolute clusterfuck.”
She’s right. Again. But…
“Okay, so we call it in?” The words taste like defeat. “Get SWAT involved, do this by the book?”
Rissa’s quiet for a long moment. “You know what happens if we do that. They’ll want to know how we found this place. Why we were here without authorization. And then there’s Zeke.”
The unspoken implications hang heavy between us. My marriage. Zeke’s connections to the criminal underworld. All the lies and half-truths I’ve told to protect him—to protect us both.
“So what then?” I hate how small my voice sounds. “We just … wait?”
A burst of activity from the warehouse draws our attention. More men emerging, carrying what look like heavy equipment cases. Loading them into the SUVs with practiced efficiency.
“Something’s definitely going down,” Rissa mutters. “But what?”
I wish I knew. Wish I could piece together all the fragments into a picture that makes sense—Zeke’s disappearance, Alessandro’s plans, whatever spooked his men so badly. One that leads me to Leo.