“It starts with an M. That’s all I could make out.”
She pushes me. Hard. So hard, the back of my head slams against the concrete wall. Dizzy, I check for bumps. I hate this woman.
She gets in my face. “That is the most important part of the assignment. We want to know who this man is.”
“You said you wanted to know who killed your brother. Not about some guy in the US.”
“It’s him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Alessio wouldn’t care about some random asshole moving to America and marrying. He wants to bring him here where he can protect and hide him.”
I admit that makes sense. “I’ll get you the name.”
“You better.” On the phone screen, the man lifts the gun and points at the back of my uncle’s head. I try to grab the phone, as if that’ll help with anything.
She smiles. “You’re holding out on me.”
“Call off your man,” I say, panic in my voice.
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Liar.”
“I don’t! I swear! Oh my God, please, he’s killing him.”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down.”
“Please,” I cry out. “Please. Alessio has a secret drawer. Okay. Inside, inside…”My God, I can’t think.“Um, okay, there’s passports. Two guns, but one of them isn’t his. Not his style. A golden gun, a…”
“A Nighthawk?”
“Yes!” I agree because she seems interested. What’s a Nighthawk? Hopefully a type of gun.
“And…and…and,” I stammer. “I know it’s not his because his initial is A and there’s an F on the gun.”
The woman hangs up and puts the phone in the pocket of her shorts.
“Wait. What are you doing?” I reach for her phone.
A blade pokes under my chin. Putrid breath fans me, and her dilated pupils tell me she’s likely high on something. This makes her more dangerous. She’s not thinking clearly. She’s too aggressive. I wonder if her husband knows. He didn’t seem to appreciate her aggression toward me since he needs me.
“I want that gun. Bring it to me tomorrow.” Her blade pushes higher. I think she broke skin.
“Alessio will know it’s missing, and I’m the only person in the house.”
“Blame one of the staff.”
“I can’t. He won’t believe me. He’ll know it was me. Please, you don’t understand. If anything surrounding him changes, he’ll come for me. Then I’ll be dead, and what happens to you? You get nothing.”
She closes the switchblade and pockets it. “What else was in the drawer?”
“A small black plastic phone. Like a burner phone.”
“Is that all?”
