Chapter Thirty–Eight #2
He grabs his laptop off the couch, and something familiar catches my eye right before he snaps it shut.
“What’s that screensaver on your laptop?” I ask.
He cuts me a look, as though checking if I’m serious.
I lift an expectant brow, waiting.
With a long-suffering sigh and a shake of his head, he says, “Some kind of clock tower Raya added. No idea what the hell she did, ‘cause every time I try to change the damn thing, it just bounces back.”
“How long ago did she add it?”
“Since she started working for me. Used to fiddle with my shit just to piss me off and—” He stops short. Narrows a wary gaze at me, like he’s suddenly regretting every word. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” I rock back in my chair, casual. “Just thought it looked familiar, is all.”
Unconvinced, he stares a second longer, then grunts disapprovingly and starts to leave.
At the door, he pauses and throws a parting shot over his shoulder.
“You’re not the only one who got attached, Stefano.
I miss her, too. But working closely with her has only taught me how much of a wily wolf she is.
She’s a clean eater, no crumbs left behind.
So unless she wants to be found…” He shrugs. “You won’t find her. Give it up, man.”
The second the door clicks shut, I flip open my laptop, punch in the password, and…there it is.
That same damn clock tower screensaver that appeared when Raya was covering for Gio while he was out sick.
I never bothered changing it. Didn’t see the point.
I’m not a computer guy, so I don’t care about flashy settings or background fluff.
I get in, do what needs doing, and that’s it.
Give me my tablet any day—quick, clean, practical. Just how I like it.
But glimpsing it on Lorenzo’s screen felt like a jolt to the brain. Because I’ve seen it somewhere else before, not just here.
I grab my phone and pull up the copy of the video she left me.
In all her other videos, she’s in front of a plain gray wall. Cropped in tight. No details. Nothing to trace.
But in this one she left specifically for me, she’s in her room at the Pink House, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed. A wide-frame shot.
I hadn’t thought much of the change in setting. Her hair’s different. Her clothes, too. Just figured she filmed it on a different day.
But now, as my attention narrows in on the picture frame propped on the nightstand behind her, I’m realizing she shot this video in a different location, with a wider angle, on purpose.
The clock tower. That’s it. That’s the fucking clue. All this damn time…
In the next breath, I’m on my feet and rounding the desk. But before I can snatch my coat from the armchair, a quick knock sounds at the door, and Santo Luciani strolls in. In his goddamn spit-shine wingtips and a sharp, double-breasted suit.
Fucking perfect. Last time this bastard showed up, it was to tell me I’d narrowly avoided THE O’s kill list.
“Well, hell. If it isn’t Lord Bearer of Bad News,” I grumble, grabbing my coat. “Whatever the message is this time, leave it with Lo. I’m not in the mood.”
“Hello to you, too, Stefano,” he drawls. “You look...different.”
If by different, he means sleep-deprived and half-feral, then yeah. My hair’s grown out damn near as long as Lorenzo’s, and I’ve been self-trimming my thickening beard just enough to stay sane.
“Like I said. Not a good time.” I shrug into my coat and move past the armchair, heading for the door. “Have to run.”
“Stop searching for her.”
That stops me cold. “What?”
“That’s the message.” He shrugs. “They had me come all the way here to deliver it face to face.”
I round on him. “Why the hell do they give a shit?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Is she…” My voice drops. “Is she with THE O, Guy?”
I’ve gone back and forth on that possibility.
Would explain a lot—her multifaceted skills, her range of knowledge, the way she always seemed three steps ahead.
But then again…why would THE O put me on their kill list, cut off our aid, then send in a secret asset to help? What was there to gain from that?
They don’t move in shadows. They broadcast their power. Loud, dramatic, unmistakable. They love making it known who holds all the power.
Raya was the opposite of that. Quiet, cloaked, precise. A slithering serpent in silk.
“I don’t know,” Santo repeats.
“What the fuck do you know?”
“Exactly what I told you. They want you to stop looking for her.”
I take in his stoic demeanor, searching for a tell. But there’s no reading Santo Luciani. The man lived a double life for over a decade and not a soul ever caught on.
Is the fucker lying to me? Absolutely. Would he sneak me a hint even if I asked nicely? Not a chance. He’s loyal to the bone. There’s a reason he’s THE O’s favorite.
“Well, here’s my message to them.” I move toward the door. “I won’t stop searching. So kill me to stop me, or fuck off.”
“You need to let it go, Stefano,” he calls after me. “It won’t end well.”
Hand on the knob, I pause. “I can’t, Guy. No part of me will let me. I don’t know why but I…I need her.”
He nods slowly, as if he understands. Maybe he does. “Then good luck.”