“Just be careful with him. I don’t know if he’s capable of love after Bianca died. I mean, he doesn’t even know how to love me.” I replayed Izzy’s words in my head as I went to the study to join my brothers and Hudson.
After I left Maria, my mother had trapped me en route to get to them and asked a few more uncomfortable questions about why I was there, and then I’d decided to head back to clue Maria in so we were on the same page. But I’d paused outside Bianca’s old room as Izzy had leveled Maria with her warning.
Realizing my sister was about to make a quick exit, I stupidly ducked into the bathroom in the hall and waited until they were both gone.
I understood my sister was only looking out for Maria, but it crushed me that Izzy didn’t think I loved her. How had I fucked up that badly to let her think that?
“What took you so long?” Alessandro asked once I met up with them in Dad’s study.
“I got sidetracked,” I said in a bit of a daze while shutting the door behind me.
“Looks like you need this.” Alessandro handed me a glass of bourbon and settled onto the couch by Hudson.
“I guess I’m not surprised to see you here,” I said to Hudson, unsure why Constantine hadn’t given me the heads-up he was coming.
“What’d you think I’d do when I found out Bianca’s killer’s still out there?” Hudson rasped as I swiveled my focus Constantine’s way.
He was at Dad’s desk, working on a laptop, but he closed it as our eyes met. “I take it you don’t have a name.” He stood and went to the bar cart. He snatched a glass, filling the tumbler with bourbon.
I took an uncomfortable sip of the drink, allowing it to burn my chest before sharing, “Not yet. But I did talk to Giovanni, and it turns out the attack this morning was unrelated to Bianca.” That had Constantine whirling back around, his glass only half-full. What a fucking metaphor, too. “Maria’s ex. I struck a nerve, I guess.”
“Her ex sent those men after you?” Alessandro scoffed. “And he had that bad of luck to go to—”
“Yup.” I took another healthy swallow of bourbon, hoping that news was why I felt so unsettled and it wasn’t because I was missing something important.
“And what brought on the beating?” Hudson asked.
“Could’ve been the fact I threatened him to confess to cheating to the judge so Maria could be free of him sooner. But he also came over yesterday morning and wasn’t happy to see me there.” I shook my head at the memory, the anger toward that prick washing over me again, reigniting my hate for him. “With his daughter out of town, he decided to come after me.”
“Clearly doesn’t know you,” Hudson responded, eyes on me.
“And I’ll deal with that asshole, trust me.” I just didn’t know how to yet, because he was still Chiara’s father. “For now, I’m here to focus on the case. Find Bianca’s killer.”
Constantine set down his glass. “Once we track down the cleaner, I’ll get him to talk.”
And I didn’t doubt that. Among the four of us, we were well versed in getting assholes to talk and share their deepest, darkest secrets.
“I can’t wrap my head around who would’ve wanted to hurt Bianca.” Alessandro echoed what Constantine and I had discussed on the phone that morning. “But statistically speaking, this stuff usually happens by someone you know, right? We thought it was random, but that was because the cleaner planted evidence and made it look that way. And now we’re back to square fucking one.”
“Which is why we need his name,” Constantine hissed, deciding to direct his anger at me, since his options were limited right now, and he saw Jesse as the gatekeeper to the answers.
At his words, I swapped my glass for my phone and called Jesse, but it went straight to voice mail. Two more times. The same.
“I should’ve come down there.” Constantine removed his suit jacket and tossed it, then began working the sleeve of his shirt to the elbow. Unlike me, he didn’t have any ink, but there were jagged scars on his right arm, which brought back painful memories of a botched job four and a half years ago that led to him being held captive, and he’d nearly died.
“Jesse will come through for us,” I finally said. “But in the meantime, to Alessandro’s point, a stabbing does feel personal. What if it’s someone we all knew who killed Bianca?” I looked to Hudson for his thoughts, since he’d been FBI, even though his time at the Bureau had been brief.
“The knife could’ve also been a convenient weapon of choice. We can’t jump to conclusions,” Hudson said, as if regretting that was all he could contribute.
“We were going by the evidence the cleaner planted thirteen years ago, and we assumed the asshole followed her home and forced his way inside,” Constantine went on. “But it’s possible she let her killer in.”
“Which means we need to figure out who Bianca would’ve trusted enough to let in and who’d also have the motive to . . .” Alessandro let his words trail off, clearly not having the stomach to finish his thoughts.
“We can’t rule anyone out when putting together our potential suspect list. Someone Dad pissed off. Hell, even Giovanni,” Constantine began. “I was trying to find a way to get my hands on untainted footage from the night of her murder, but the club’s out of business now.”
“Right,” I remembered. “The nightclub cameras were manipulated, which was mentioned in court. And multiple vantage points were erased, so the prosecution believed the killer hid the fact he was there with Bianca that night.”
“But the cleaner may have done that on purpose during his frame job. The story of the guy following Bianca home from the club would fall apart in court if he was never there in the first place,” Constantine pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean the real killer wasn’t there.”
“And the security footage near Bianca’s was also manipulated, which is why the police never saw her killer come and go from her place back then,” Hudson noted. “No chance you can unfuck that footage to see the real picture?”
“Unfortunately not,” Constantine said. “But I had another idea.”
Thank God for him. My brother had turned into a tech-savvy genius in the last decade, which had saved our asses time and time again on ops. And when he couldn’t hack his way into a facility, Alessandro would charm his way in for us.
“I’m in the process of creating a program to tap into any available CCTV footage from that night within a block of the club,” Constantine explained.
“So you think the cleaner didn’t tamper with all the cameras in the area?” I asked.
“Only the ones at the bank across the street, which faced the entrance to the club, appear to have been altered,” Constantine said. “Which is why I’m expanding the search farther. If we see anyone near the club that night who Bianca would’ve known, they get moved up to the top of the suspect list.”
“But this is all a long shot, right?” Alessandro mumbled, frustrated, but I’d take a long shot over no shot at all, especially with Constantine at the helm trying to figure it out.
Before I could say more, my phone vibrated in my pocket. “It’s Jesse.” Constantine motioned for me to put him on speakerphone, and the guys crowded around me. “Hey, tell me Carter is ready to work together.”
“Sorry for the delay. We were in the air. Just landed,” Jesse answered. “We’re in New York but not near you.”
“Where?” And why’d it feel like he was about to hit me with shitty news?
“We’re in Syracuse. The cleaner was captured just over the Canadian border, and a few spies swooped in and grabbed him from border control,” Jesse explained. “Carter was able to figure out where he was taken. The CIA officers brought him to a remote location outside Syracuse.”
“The CIA brought him stateside?” I asked, because the international field was normally the Agency’s playground. “And why the hell to Syracuse?”
“Yeah, something is suspect,” Jesse said. “But if you’d like to help us extract him, and you’re willing to use rubber bullets and Tasers, then—”
“What time?” I interrupted.
“We can’t afford to wait too long after dark. We’re going to hit the cabin around twenty-three hundred hours. Can you get here by then?”
“Yeah.” It was a quick flight to Syracuse, since we had our own jet, thankfully. “Send us your location.”
There was noise in the background and then static popped over the line before a deep, unrecognizable voice said, “Constantine?”
My brother snatched the phone. “Carter.”
“You’re only joining because I’m working with half my team on this op and need the extra bodies,” Carter hissed. “But if you get captured, I don’t fucking know you. You’re on your own, understood?”
“Yeah.” My brother’s lack of an aggressive response to Carter’s determined tone was almost surprising.
“And one more thing,” Carter started. “The cleaner never leaves our custody. You’re not to kill him. You get the name, and then you go on your way.”
Constantine closed his eyes, and I knew he was struggling that time. Same as me. I wanted to kill the bastard for being complicit in Bianca’s murder, but he hid other crimes as well, and everyone deserved justice, not just us.
“Fine,” I said, speaking for everyone. “Thank you for allowing us to join you.”
“Sorry about him,” Jesse said after a few quiet moments had passed, and Carter must’ve handed him the phone and left. “He’s upset the Agency got to him before we did.”
“Why are you working with only half a team?” I asked.
“We had to divide and conquer for our current op, which we hate doing, but we have another lead for our case, so my other team leader is handling that with some of our crew,” he explained.
I looked at my brothers and Hudson, and they were now discussing something out of earshot. “We’ve got you covered,” I promised, and then I shared with Jesse the news that the hit that morning had been tied to Maria’s ex.
I ended the call after exchanging a few more words, my stomach turning at the idea I’d be infiltrating a CIA safe house and leaving Maria tonight. What if something went wrong? The CIA officers sure as hell wouldn’t use rubber bullets.
“We’ll leave after dinner,” Constantine said, facing me now. “Let’s not tell Mom and Izzy. They don’t need to know about this. Not yet anyway.”
Izzy. Guilt burned down my throat at the memory of her words. “Yeah, I guess,” I hesitantly agreed, unsure if leaving my sister in the dark again would only make things worse for our relationship, but at the same time, why would I want to burden her with the painful truth if I could avoid it a bit longer?
“I guess this means Pablo lives to see another day,” Hudson remarked in a gravelly tone.
“We’ll deal with that problem when we get back,” Constantine bit out, then motioned for the door.
Instead of following them out, I went over to the window and set a palm to the glass, my thoughts racing. I still couldn’t grasp the idea someone Bianca knew would want to hurt her. But I’d never thought Thomas would come after me, either, and . . .
“People in love do crazy things,” I said at the memory of my words earlier to Maria about her ex. “Did you love someone, Bianca?” And if so, why’d they want to kill you?
