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RORIC

My second oldest brother, Thane, strolls into Biggie T’s, one of the clubs owned by our bratva, and sits down at my table. It was actually his table. He used to oversee this club. The woman he’s fucking used to dance on the stage as Little Red Riding Hood. I snicker. Thane thinks he’s so sly.

“Hey?” I raise my head to the server so she’ll bring a second glass to join mine with my bottle of vodka. I pour a shot for Thane, and he downs the glass.

He settles into his seat and leans back in his chair. Loud music resonates around the darkened club. Two stripper poles and a platform for the dancers take center stage. He pours himself a second shot as he purses his lips and frowns. “You’ve got a job to do.”

I turn my head from the gorgeous redhead on stage. “What job? I thought you’re in trouble with our father.”

Thane shrugs. “Papa is pissed at me, but he’ll get over it.”

I chuckle. “You were an asshole to Cynric’s woman. He won’t get over that.” My oldest brother, Cynric, is the second in command of our father’s bratva. “She saved him, you know?”

“Saxon told me.” Saxon is our youngest brother and the one who maneuvers all five of us brothers to get along. Thane sighs. “It’s my fault he got shot.”

I cock my head at my favorite brother. “You can’t control everything. Isabella handled his gun-shot wound, and they’re both settled in a new place.”

The stripper ends her routine on the stage. She’s nowhere near as entertaining as Red, Thane’s girl.

“Isabella’s pissed at me too.”

“No shit. She handles Cynric; she’s got no problem handling you.”

Thane rolls his eyes. “Do you want to hear about the job?”

I don’t, really. The job means it’s time to kill someone. I’m the assassin in our family. I killed my first man at fourteen, the night I wrecked Thane’s first car. “Sure.”

“There’s a witness to Cynric killing Jose Aguilar.”

My head snaps to Thane. “What? How?”

“His daughter was at the warehouse and watched. Her great uncle thinks she’s going to go to the police.”

Why would a cartel family member report a crime? “Why?”

“I spoke with Arturo, Jose’s uncle, and his oldest son, Marco. They aren’t upset about Jose. He planned to take control of the cartel from his uncle and his oldest brother. I got the impression they were about to kill him themselves.”

“And you spent eighteen months with this loyal family. No wonder you came home pissed off.”

Thane smirks. “It’s not the family like we have; that’s for sure.”

My mind processes Thane’s words, and I grit my teeth. “So, I’m supposed to hunt down the girl and kill her?”

“I’m not sure we’re getting the complete story from the Aguilars about Rosa.”

My brow lifts. “Rosa?”

“Yeah.” He slides the file across the table. “Rosa White. Well, that’s her name when she models. She was born Rosa Aguilar.”

I pour my last shot of vodka as I flip through the file. It’s her. Keeping emotion off my face, my heart rate skyrockets. The one-night stand from Prague stares at me from the photo. “She’s gorgeous.” I can’t believe she looks even more like Snow White than she did that night: the dark hair and blue eyes. She didn’t act like the spoiled diva I’m reading in the file. “You want me to kill her?”

He shakes his head. “Just track her down and figure out if she’s a threat to us. If she’s a threat to the Aguilars, find out why.”

I stand and tip my head at my brother. “She’s been on the run for weeks. Any idea where she is or where she’d go?”

“Her mother lives in Mexico, but she’s got friends all around the world. You’re going to get to put those hunting skills to work.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes at my brother. “The mean old hunter is going to kill Snow White. That’s the new fairy tale.” I head out to my SUV to get in the driver’s side, setting the file folder on the passenger seat. She left after the night of fucking with no note or contact information. I hoped to see her again, but not like this. I’ll call my father’s hacker and see what he’s got on Snow White.

Fingers calls me back the next morning. “I can’t find Rosa Aguilar.”

Strumming my fingers on the file folder, I’ve memorized the information, but there’s so much missing. “Her phone?”

“It’s offline. Her social media pages lack anything current, and I’m not finding anything about her with her mother in Mexico.”

I grit my teeth. “Did the Aguilars find her?”

“No.” Fingers stops typing. “I’ve hacked them. They found a photo of her in Pittsburgh. She got off a bus. She bought a ticket for Sioux Falls but never got there. I can’t find her on any video feed from the bus stations. It’s like she’s disappeared.”

I pull out the pages from the folder and slide them into my shredder. “She’s got to know that they have her mother’s place covered. Who else would she run to?”

Fingers pauses. “She’s a model. She knows people all around the world. I can’t find a record of her passport, so she didn’t take the usual routes out of the country.”

“Okay. Keep checking. I’m heading to Pittsburgh.” I end the call and grab my go bag. My drive from Manhattan to Pittsburgh will put me there in six hours. Hopefully, I can track a lead.

I park my SUV outside the bus station in Pittsburgh and walk around the area. The convenience store a few places down from the bus station catches my eye. Stepping in, I see cameras in the corner of the store. I step out and call Fingers. “There are cameras at the Seven-Eleven a block or so away from the station.”

“Give me a sec.” The pause gives me a chance to continue looking around. “She bought two phones and some prepaid Visa cards. It’s going to take me a few minutes to glean through all the data and figure out which cards were hers.”

“Great. Let me know where she used those cards. I’m going to stop and eat.”

I finish my lunch as Fingers texts me the locations. She’s been extremely careful about the burner phones, and they aren’t in use now, but she’s Ubered with the cards. I throw money on the counter for my lunch and step out of the restaurant. I’m drawn to the art déco building across the street, its sleek lines and bold design a stark contrast to the surrounding buildings. A debate rages in my brain between driving to Denver and grabbing a flight. I hate the idea of renting an SUV, but stealing one to use has its disadvantages as well. Walking back to my vehicle, I call Fingers. “Hey. I need a flight from here to Denver and find me an SUV I can borrow. One where the owners are away for a couple of weeks.”

“There’s a four-forty-five flight. I booked you. By the time you get to Denver, I’ll have found you an SUV to use.”

“Thanks, Fingers. I’ll need provisions in Denver.”

“I’m texting someone now. The SUV will have what you need. You can leave your stuff in the vehicle at the hotel we usually use, and it will make it home.”

“Fine. Thanks.” Before I go to the airport, I’ll rent a hotel room. So long as the SUV is attached to a hotel visitor, even if there is no one actually staying here, it will be safe until one of the bratva can get here and get my ride. We’ve found Campbell Hotel garages have great security.

The SUV Fingers directed me to in the airport garage in Denver is perfect. Someone stocked the vehicle with the knives, guns, and equipment I prefer. There’s a large stack of money and a few days’ worth of clothes in the bag.

My phone rings; it’s my father. “Hello?”

“You’re in Denver?”

“Yes. Fingers tracked her here.”

Papa pauses. “There’s more to this whole thing than the Aguilars want us to know. It’s been weeks, and she hasn’t gone to law enforcement. My FBI connection hasn’t heard of her. We know both our families are always under scrutiny for investigation.”

“The more I learn about her, the more I’m sure they want her for some other reason. What’s Thane think?”

“He’s sure this isn’t about her witnessing Cynric. Find her and figure out what they want from her.”

“I’m on it.” I slide my privacy sunglasses on my face. Cynric invested in a company which makes glasses that limit facial recognition. I pull the SUV out of the garage and head into downtown Denver. She’s been here for two weeks. Why hasn’t she moved on?

The last time she used a prepaid card was four days ago at a Greek restaurant off seventh. My gut tells me she’s not here anymore. I can’t wrap my head around why she stayed here for so long. Why hasn’t she gone home to family or left the country? I stroll into the Greek restaurant and smile at the young woman hovering around the host desk. “Hi.”

She beams at me. “Hi. I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I just moved here.”

“Take out or dine in?”

“I’ll dine in if you’ll serve me.” I add just enough charm to get a twinkle from her eyes.

“Sure.” She grabs a menu and walks me to a booth at the back of the place. “Want a drink?”

“I’ll take a Coke.”

She grins. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s late evening, and the place is almost empty. It looks like a typical Greek restaurant with fake statues of Greek gods and Mediterranean plants and photos. The bright yellow wall is overwhelming, but the place smells good.

The server comes back to my table and sets down my drink. “Have you had a chance to look over the menu?”

I motion to the opposite side of the booth. “Can you sit for a second?”

She pivots her head around and my lip raises the moment she decides she will. She sits down. “The gyro is good.”

“Yeah. That and a Greek salad.”

She starts to get up, and I hold out my hand, motioning for her to remain. “What’s your name?”

She leans back. “I’m Nessa.”

“Hi, Nessa. I’m Tyler.”

“So, you said you just moved here?”

“I did. How ‘bout you?”

She shrugs. “I’m from here. My family owns the restaurant.”

“Cool.” I sip my Coke trying to be charming. “My cousin lives around here. She mentioned your place.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“Rosa.” I fake a ‘I’ve got a thought’ expression and reach for my phone. I scroll to her photo. “Here.”

She nods. “Oh. Anna. Her hair’s darker in the pic. She’s been here a couple of times. She likes the grilled chicken.”

“Rosanna, guess she decided to use her nickname. Was she in tonight?”

She gets up from the booth. “No. It’s been three or four days. She mentioned she was staying at a nearby motel.”

I feign surprise. “A motel? That’s weird. I thought she had a place.”

Shrugging, she stands. “I’ll put in your order.”

I flick through my phone. There’s only eight places she’s used her card, and she’s only used one of the burners for a total of eleven minutes. She’s used Uber a dozen times since she got here. Maybe she’s searching for something here in Denver? Could she not know she should be running? The server sets down my food, and I inhale it. It’s good. I’m a foodie, and this is nearly the best Greek outside of Greece I’ve had.

Twenty minutes later, she returns to collect my dishes. “Will you live around here?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I travel a lot, so even if I live nearby, I’ll be gone all the time.”

She hands me my bill and flicks her head to a man calling to her from the kitchen. I toss down a fifty-dollar bill and head for the door. I would have enjoyed luring her back to her place and having her, but I need to move on.

My phone rings.

“Hello?”

“It’s Fingers. She used the card in Santa Fe.”

“Seriously? Who the fuck runs away to Santa Fe?

“They’ve got great art.”

Fingers is amusing with his thought process. “Yes, Fingers. Could it be that she doesn’t realize she’s being hunted?”

He sputters. “Then why did she leave New York in disguise?”

“Maybe she did something and didn’t want to be caught?”

Fingers stops typing. “Lemme do a little digging. If she took something that might explain why they want to find her.”

“Do that. I’m driving to Santa Fe.”

“Shouldn’t you sleep?”

I scoff. “Thanks, mom. I slept on the plane, but I appreciate your concern.” I end the call and hustle to the SUV, clicking on my map app to see that it takes five and a half hours, probably less being so late. How fast can I get there?

Old school classic rock blasts through my speakers. My map app notifies me if cops wait for me on my route. I don’t really care. I’m using my fake California driver’s license, so if they pull me over and give me a ticket, I’ll never get caught. There’s no way anyone has reported the SUV missing. I just need a plausible excuse as to why I have Ken Waterman’s Lincoln Navigator.