"I know," Rafe says in a lower tone, but it's unmistakable. I don't think he really agrees with his uncle, but in this case he has to at least acknowledge him. It's almost like Rafe wants to defend me but he's afraid of the man or something. I get that. He's scary. And that makes me nervous.
There's a pause, then Sal speaks again. "The girl is dispensable, Rafe. If she doesn't do her job well, if she becomes a problem, she can be ended easily. Do you understand?"
My breath catches. I press my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound, and I feel my pulse hammering in my ears.
"I understand," Rafe says, but there's hesitation in his voice. It's a beat too long before he answers. I hear it, and I wonder if Sal hears it too.
"Good," he says, "and while you're at it, remind our friendlies what's at stake. Their families. Their children. Make sure they understand that cooperation isn't optional."
"I'll take care of it."
"See that you do. We're running out of time, and I won't tolerate mistakes."
The voices fade, and I hear footsteps moving down the hallway. I stay frozen in the chair with my hand still pressed over my mouth, my entire body trembling.
So "friendlies" is what he's calling those politicians and law enforcement officials, and he's talking about threatening their families if they don't cooperate. My God, what sort of sick game is this man playing?
The door opens, and Rafe walks in. His expression is grim, his jaw tight, and he stops when he sees me sitting at the desk. His eyes flick to the laptop, then back to my face.
"How much did you hear?" he asks.
I swallow hard. "Enough."
He closes the door behind him and crosses the room, leaning against the edge of the desk. He's close enough now that I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides.
He's battling internally and I can only hope it's because he wants to protect me, but I still don't trust him. He doesn't know I know what "friendlies" are, but at this point it doesn’t matter. I heard Don Salvatore Ferretti threaten women and children. It'd never be enough for a conviction but to a man who might easily discard me without a stain on his conscience, it's enough for an assassination.
"Did you get more done?" he asks, sighing heavily.
I want to pry my thoughts away from those names on that list, but I can't. I've heard some of those names. I know the faces of their wives I've seen on TV, and some have children who are barely in grade school.
"Uh, yeah," I grunt, realizing I still have half of my lunch. No way I'm eating that now. I'll just throw it up. "I'm done through August or so…"
"I need it done, Riley—immediately. No more time to waste." This time when Rafe reminds me of what he expects from me, it doesn't come with a gun or a picture of my sister as a warning. All I see is a man staring down an impossible problem, like the little island in the ocean bearing down under the category five hurricane, praying for a miracle.
"I got it," I tell him, but I don't "got" it. I don't have anything.
I'm a trembling wreck as he turns his back and walks over to his water cooler to get a drink.
If the storm is coming, it’s coming for me, and it's coming for those women and children Salvatore Ferretti may harm if I fail. I can't let that happen.
Not for my sake, and not for theirs.
And Rafe will just have to be the umbrella for now, because I can already feel the first droplets of rain ready to saturate me in their wake.
14
RAFE
The news anchor's crisp voice fills the living room as she delivers the update on Riley's disappearance. I stand behind the couch, watching the screen with growing dread as the report continues.
"New information has emerged in the case of Riley Maddox, the Buffalo native who has been missing for three weeks. Authorities have confirmed that her cell phone last pinged at a warehouse location on the east side of the city before going dark. The warehouse is registered to a commercial property management company, but sources close to the investigation say the location has known ties to organized crime."
The camera cuts to a map showing the warehouse district, a red dot marking the exact location where we took Riley's car apart. My men stripped it down to the frame looking for that ledger and then burned it and left it sitting on the side of the highway to be found later. None of this was supposed to happen.
When we first brought her here, I had no clue what I was going to do with her. I just knew we couldn't have a drop of blood ora single stray hair at that warehouse because I knew they'd ping her phone. I figured we'd have one of the grunts take care of it and she'd end up in the river before Thanksgiving. And that didn’t happen.
She was too convenient for me and with her specific skill set, which happened to be a complete coincidence, I knew I could use her. Now I don't know what to do with her. No fucking way Sal lets me turn her loose to walk, and besides, I've already told her she's mine. And I don't say things I don't mean. But shuttling her to work and keeping her face hidden are getting cumbersome, almost impossible.
