“Who else is working with you, selling info?” Another blow. Two teeth fly across the office in a mess of spittle and blood, leaving red stains on the wall.
“I want a name, Octavio!” Nino keeps yelling.
I take the phone from my desk and open the surveillance app, bringing up the feed from Milene’s apartment. During the past week, I periodically began checking the live video stream over the course of the day. I still watched the entire day’s recording in the evenings, but that had ceased to provide me with a strong enough fix. I’ve developed an inexplicable need to know where she is and what she’s doing.
The screen lights up with the view of Milene’s place. Shekept the white roses and daisies, and they’re on her kitchen table. I expected to find Milene watching TV or reading, which is what she usually does in the evenings when she’s not at work. Instead, I see her rushing around the room, wearing only a matching set of black lace lingerie. With my elbows on the desk, I lean forward and squeeze the phone in my hand.
Milene removes a silver dress from a hanger in the small closet and a pair of black high heels from the bottom. She puts the dress on first. It’s short, tight, and glitters like an old-style disco ball. I grip the phone in my hand even harder. The T-shirts she wears in bed hang lower than that dress. It barely covers her ass. Milene slips on the heels and shoos away the ragged feline sleeping on her coat. Picking up the jacket, she leaves the apartment.
“Nino, who’s on the Scardoni girl?” I ask.
Nino looks up, his attention shifting away from his methodical task of breaking Octavio's fingers. “It should be Pietro’s turn.”
I find Pietro’s number and call him. “Where is she?”
“Getting into a cab,” he says.
“Follow. Let me know where she goes.” I cut the call, take out my gun, and walk over to Octavio, who’s still kneeling but is only half-conscious.
“The name of the other snitch, Octavio,” I demand.
“I don’t know, Boss. I swear . . .”
I raise the gun, shoot him once at point blank range in the head, and turn to Nino. “Call maintenance. I need my office cleaned by morning. I have a meeting at eight. Did he have a family?”
“A wife.”
“Send someone with money. A hundred grand shoulddo it. Make sure she knows what will happen if she doesn’t keep her mouth shut.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Have someone paint over that.” I nod toward the wall behind Octavio’s body. “His brains are all over it.”
“Are you going out?”
“Yes.”
“Should I send backup?”
“No,” I say and pin him with my gaze. “Don't you send anyone to follow me. I’ve already told you to lose that habit of yours.”
“I’m your chief of security. How do you expect me to do my job if you don’t let me?”
“Up to now, I’ve been pretending not to notice the guys you put on my tail. Not tonight, Nino.”
“Okay, Boss.”
As I’m heading toward the garage, Pietro calls and gives me the address of a bar downtown. When I get in my car, I check the location on my phone. Almost an hour away. f*ck. I hit the steering wheel with my palm and rev the engine.
I lean back against the bar and lift my glass to take a sip of my drink when I notice a man in navy pants and white shirt entering. sh*t.
“For God’s sake, Pip.” I groan. “Did you seriously invite Randy on our girls’ night out?”
“Of course not.” Pippa follows my gaze. “I might havementioned it at some point. We were on the night shift together on Wednesday, but I definitely didn’t ask him to come along.”
“f*cking great.” I take a big gulp of my drink and watch Randy approach, a broad grin plastered on his dull-as-dishwater face.
“Girls! What can I get you?”
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