Page 106 of Dark Breaker

He staggers backward and wipes the blood from his lips.

He repositions the handgun so that he’s holding the barrel and strikes my face with the grip so hard that I feel my teeth rattle.

I gasp in pain and fall to the floor.

“I can’t wait to kill Fabio D’Alimonte in front of you,” he says. “And if you won’t come around after, I’ll kill you too. I meant what I said. I’m not going to share you. You’re mine, Rosa Moretti. All mine.”

I can merely stare at him in shocked disbelief, my face throbbing in agony.

Those dead eyes blink. Then he retreats, slamming the door behind him and locking it, sealing me into darkness once more.

18

Fabio

I’m still with my driver, Cateno. The ice I picked up earlier has help reduced the swelling in my cheek, and I barely feel any pain now except for when I talk. I’ll manage.

We arrive at the cafe Angela mentioned. Cateno double-parks in front. Cars honk behind us because we’ve reduced the traffic flow to one lane.

“Stay here,” I tell Cateno.

The guy in the car behind us is honking and yelling. I ball my hand into a pretend handgun, with my index finger serving as the muzzle and my thumb the hammer, and point it at him. He shuts up.

I walk inside and survey the cramped interior. I don’t see Rosa’s friend Michela anywhere, though she was supposed to meet me here.

I head toward the front of the line. The young barista behind the counter looks up from the coffee she’s making and gives me a flirty smile.

“Ciao,” she says nervously. She’s still pouring the coffee into the cup and it spills over before she realizes it and scalds her hand.

“There was a kidnapping earlier today,” I tell her impatiently.

She washes the coffee off her scalded finger and regards me warily. “Are you with the police?”

“You can look at it that way,” I reply. “Did you see anyone suspicious in here earlier? Someone maybe casing the place?”

“No,” she says. “No one.”

“Where was she taken?”

The barista points toward a door on the far side of the room. I head there, and walk inside what turns out to be a bathroom.

I can’t see any signs of a struggle. The bottom-pivoting hopper window is held in place by a pair of arm-like hinges on either side, the pane of glass currently open and resting at a forty-five degree angle to the wall. It has no screen, and it’s wide enough for someone to slip through. It leads to the back alley beyond.

I could return to the main entrance and head out back the long way, but I don’t care if I dirty my suit, so I simply plant one foot on the goose-neck vent beneath the window and haul myself onto it. I’m a bit worried the window will crumple under my weight, but it holds.

I leap down into the alleyway. There are still no signs of any struggle, or that anybody was even here. I was hoping I’d see a hint as to who took her, for example something Rosa or her kidnappers had dropped, but there’s nothing save for trash left by a homeless person. Then again, if therewasany evidence, the police would have collected it by now.

The alleyway itself is fairly compact, with only one way leading in and out, with just enough room to fit a small car. There are no balconies or windows located on either side, so I can understand why no one noticed her kidnapping. It’s essentially the perfect spot to take her.

“There you are,” a voice comes from my right.

I glance toward the alleyway entrance. Rosa’s friend Michela stands there.

“Did the police collect any evidence?” I ask her.

“Straight to business, huh?” she replies, then shakes her head. “There wasn’t any. She went to the bathroom and never came out. But I know she didn’t run away because her Vespa is still here. She’d never go anywhere without that bike.”

“Take me to it,” I order her.