“Relax. We’ll find her,” Salvatore says. He’s sitting beside me as we take the exit where the tracker equipped in the car that took Natalie says it’s parked. Two soldiers ride in the car behind ours.
“I’m a fucking idiot.”
“No. You’re not. She wants space. You’re trying to give it to her. Considering what she overheard—”
“No, she doesn’t get to have space. Not anymore. Fuck!” I slam my fist on the steering wheel for the hundredth time. “I shouldn’t have brought her to that house.” I shake my head at myself as I speed down the deserted street.
“There,” Salvatore says, pointing to the fencing around the abandoned cluster of buildings.
I slow as I pull up, stop at the closed gates. The place has been vandalized but a heavy lock keeps the lot sealed off so I can’t drive any farther.
“We’ll go on foot,” I say, killing the engine, getting out of the car.
Salvatore is beside me and I hear the cocking of his weapon as we walk through a narrow opening that someone made by cutting the wire.
I spot the sedan in a far corner. It’s out of place here where the windows of the buildings are broken or gone and even squatters won’t occupy. The place is eerie. Haunted by the wretchedness of the people who lived and died here.
There isn’t a single sound around us. If it’s an ambush, they’ll have us tonight. We should have brought more men. A fucking army. I’ve not only put Natalie in harm’s way, but my brother too.
There’s a low sound as we near the vehicle. I take my pistol out of its holster and exchange a look with Salvatore. While he goes around the back of the car, I move around the front to the driver’s side. I hear the soft hum of music, I think it’s country. The radio’s on.
The driver’s side window is open a crack. Although the windows are tinted, I should be able to see a form if anyone’s in there and I don’t. Still, I have my gun ready when I open the door. But the car’s empty.
I reach in and pull out the keys, which are still in the ignition, killing the sound.
“Pop the trunk,” Salvatore says, just as I peek into the backseat to find Natalie’s purse on the floor, her belongings scattered. There’s no blood at least. Nothing like that inside the car.
“Sergio. Pop the fucking trunk.”
I glance at Salvatore whose eyes are locked on the closed trunk. I reach around, pop it and walk back at the same moment he decocks his gun.
“Fuck.”
Fuck is right. The driver’s body is inside. His face is bruised and there’s a bullet hole between his still open eyes. On the lapel of his jacket is a note.
Keep your friends close.
Your enemies closer.
A name underneath the cryptic message. An address.
“What the—” Salvatore starts, taking it from me.
“Let’s go. The address is Atlantic City.”
We move quickly, driving the hour and a half to Atlantic City at breakneck speed. Salvatore is beside me. He’s still studying the note, but there’s nothing to learn from it.
“What the fuck does this mean?”
“It means someone’s fucking with us.”
“Vitelli?”
I shake my head. “No. No way. He’d be fucking stupid to after what happened with Joe.”
“Then who?”
“Pick a number. We have enough enemies to choose from.”
