I rub a knuckle along my jaw. “She walked out with him. Calm. No force. That’s what the tape shows.”
“And you know that isn’t the whole story.” Elena tips her chin at the monitors. “Aren’t you always telling people to wait until they get the whole story?”
I huff. “I hate hearing my own advice.”
“You give good advice.” She shifts the baby higher, pats her back. “And you keep not taking it.”
I rake back through the timestamps again. “It’s there. A turn we didn’t catch. A garage. A cut-through.”
“Vito will squeeze him,” she says. “You know that.”
“I know.” My voice roughens. “I want it to be now.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “I know it may not mean much, but I have faith that she didn’t walk out of there with friends.” Her eyes meet mine.
“I’m not sure that’s better,” I say. “Among friends, among enemies. At least one of them won’t put her in danger.”
“I just mean that I don’t think she betrayed you, Giovanni,” she says gently. “She’s smart. She’s proud. I don’t see her getting involved in something like that.”
“She got involved with me, didn’t she?”
“It’s different. You know it is,” Elena says. “You’ll find her and ask all the questions you want. Until then…” She nudges the mug by my elbow. I don’t remember anyone setting it there. “Drink. Eat. Sleep. Do something that isn’t this. It’s not going to help.”
I wrap my fingers around it and take a swallow because refusing her feels stupid.
“It will if I can find where they took her.”
“You’ll bring her back,” she says, calm as weather on a soft summer morning. “And when you do, try not to be an animal about it.”
I cut her a look.
“She’ll have been through something,” Elena says. She rises, smoothing a palm over the baby’s back. “Save the animal for the men who deserve it.”
The phone rattles against the desk. I snatch it up, already ready to bark—and stop when I see the name.
Francesca.
“Shit.” I glance at Elena. She reads it in my face and squeezes my forearm once, then drifts a step away to give me room.
I haven’t told her. I’d hoped Bianca checked in with her mom the second she walked through her own door. If Francesca’s calling me, she didn’t.
I thumb accept and make my voice smooth. “Francesca.”
“Giovanni.” Her voice carries the worry of a mother. “Is Bianca with you?”
“Not at the moment,” I say, easy as steam off coffee. “I gave her the day to rest up after the trip.”
“She usually calls me as soon as she lands.” There’s a shaky exhale on the other end. “Her phone is going straight to voicemail. She’s not answering my texts.”
“We got in late. She was exhausted.” I slide my gaze to the blank square on the screen. “It’s possible she turned it off to catch up on sleep. The jet lag hit her pretty hard.”
“Oh.” A small breath. “That makes sense. I just—her phone isn’t ringing. I worried.”
“Understandable, but I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” I lie without blinking. “I’ll get eyes on her soon.” I soften my voice. “You know how she gets.”
A pause. “Yes. She does run herself down.” There’s another beat of silence. “You’re sure everything is fine?”
“Everything is fine,” I say. “I’ll have someone drop by with pastries—pure bribery to get her out of bed. If she calls you first, tell her I’m expecting her.”
