"Let him go."
Dante raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"He's nobody. A messenger. Murphy will use someone else next time anyway." I glance back at Lee. "But I want him scared enough that he never forgets this conversation."
Dante grins. "I can make that happen."
"Nothing permanent. Just... memorable."
"Got it."
I walk back to Lee. Crouch down so we're eye level.
"Here's how this works. You're going to walk out of here. You're going to forget you ever met Elena Messina. You're going to forget this conversation. And if Murphy or anyone else ever asks you to go near her again, you're going to say no. Are we clear?"
He nods frantically. "Crystal clear. I won't go near her, I swear."
"Good. Because I'll be watching. And if I ever see you within a hundred yards of her, if I ever hear that you've taken another job involving her, I'll make sure you disappear so completely that even God won't be able to find you. Understand?"
"Yes. Yes, I understand."
I stand and nod to Dante. "He's all yours. Just make sure he can still walk when you're done."
I head upstairs, leaving Dante to put the fear of God into Lee. Or the fear of the Rossos, which is arguably worse.
Outside, I lean against my car and pull out my phone. Call Rafa.
"I need you to dig deeper into Elena's background," I say when he answers. "Not just her official records. I need to know if there's any other identity she might be using. Different last name, different documentation."
"You think she's been living under an alias?"
"I think she's been a lot more careful than we realized. And if she's got identity documents we don't know about, that's how the Irish found her."
"I'll get on it right away."
"And Rafa? Run a full background check on Elio Messina. I want to know everything—his finances, his associates, his gambling habits. Where he's been, who he owes. Everything."
"You got it, boss."
I hang up and stare at the warehouse. Through the small basement window, I can hear Dante's voice. Calm. Methodical. Explaining in graphic detail what will happen if Lee ever forgets this conversation.
Elena's in deeper trouble than I thought. And she's been handling it alone.
The marks on her throat this morning were just the beginning. The Irish aren't making idle threats. They're escalating. And whatever was in that envelope is probably another turn of the screw.
I get in my car and head back to her apartment. She's not alone anymore. Whether she likes it or not, I'm in this fight with her now.
And the Irish are about to learn what happens when someone threatens what's mine.
CHAPTER 18
Elena
Marco has been walkingaround this apartment for the past three days with the most insufferable smug smirk, like he's figured out some grand mystery. His pompous attitude makes my teeth itch. He may know something, but he doesn't know everything. And I have my ways of throwing him off the scent.
I can tell he's been digging. The constant phone calls with Rafa. The way he's been glued to his laptop, reviewing what I can only assume are my financials, my records, every digital footprint I've ever left. When he started asking questions the other day it made my blood freeze—I knew he was getting close to something. Not the truth, but close enough to be dangerous.
So I've decided to completely change tactics. If Marco wants to play detective, I'll give him exactly what he expects to see.
