Brooklyn. Giovanna.
I’m coming for you, sweet girl.
13
Giovanna
The voices come like smoke curling through the walls. Low male voices, among them is Antonio’s voice. He’s angry, but though the volume rises and falls, I can’t make out the words.
I feel like I’m underwater. I can’t open my eyes or move, and everything sounds thick and garbled.
My body shifts. I hear creaking, maybe from the mattress? Then there’s a soft voice in my ear, a female voice, the nurse. She says, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I won’t let them hurt you.”
The fiery pinch in my arm is followed by the warmth flooding my veins, the darkness overwhelming my consciousness.
Some small part of me wants to fight, to move, to lift myself up off this mattress, but my limbs are weighted, my body is a hollow shell.
My thoughts fracture into unrecognizable scraps, and I fall back into the darkness.
There, like always, is Tommy.
He’s looking at me with pride, with love, and he reaches his hand out to me. The air smells like leather and burnt almonds. Tommy wraps his jacket around my shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes never waver. Steady. Possessive. Protective.
The rocking of the ocean begins. It’s harder than usual, so hard that it threatens to pull Tommy away from me, but he holds on. He won’t let me go.
I cling to him, bury my face in his chest. He is looking for me, and he is with me. Somehow, both these things are true. He is the only thing that is real, the only thing solid. The only thing tethering me to my sanity.
14
Tommy
Iwaited outside the address that Valentina gave me for a day, then broke in and waited inside all night. Nothing. Antonio never came back. I rage text Valentina about her faulty intel and how much of my time she wasted as I jog up the steps to my Upper West Side building.
I know someone’s inside before I open the door. The air feels charged, like the apartment itself is waiting to see what happens. My hand tightens on the grip of my gun as I turn the knob.
Antonio’s sitting in the middle of the living room on my couch like he owns the place. Legs stretched out, one arm slung over the back, his eyes sharp and calm.
He really shouldn’t be so calm.
“Don’t lose your shit, Tommy,” he says lightly.
I don’t answer. My vision tunnels as I cross the apartment in a couple of steps, throwing my gun to the ground in favor ofusing my fists on his smug face. I smash into him, the couch skidding back across the hardwood and into the wall.
He throws his body into mine, and we hit the ground. I drive my elbow into his ribs. He grunts, teeth bared, his fist flying up to catch my jaw. He quickly follows with another jab that scrapes my temple. I barely feel it as blood drips down my face, and I don’t stop. I grab his collar, slam him into the floorboards.
“Where the fuck is she?” My voice is hoarse, broken.
“I don’t know!” He shoves hard, flipping us, straddling me now, fist cocked. I buck my hips, roll us again. His head bounces against the wood, and he snarls through bloody teeth. “I swear to God, Tommy! I don’t fucking know where she is!”
“You expect me to believe that?” I dig my forearm into his throat. “I’ve seen the videos. I’ve seen what you did to her.”
His eyes flash, a flare of rage that looks too raw to be a lie. “Whatever you saw, wasn’t me!” His voice cracks around the words. “She’s on an island. You hear me? A fucking island. I don’t know where. I don’t know how to get back. They blindfolded me every time. They made me turn off my phone. I couldn’t find it if I tried.”
I slam my fist into his gut, making him gasp for air. “Fucking convenient. And a lie. I saw the videos. It couldn’t be anyone but you.”
“No—fuck. Listen!” He wheezes, trying to push me off, hands scrabbling at my arms, but I keep him pinned to the ground, waiting.
“Would I fucking be here right now, Tommy, if that were true?”
