Page 109 of Dark Breaker

No…oneof them pulled her in, and the other acted as if he was trying to save her. What was his name. The dude who ran the party. Carlo, or something? I know I’d recognize their faces if I saw them.

I load Facebook on my phone and type in Rosa’s name. I scroll through her friends list. There, that’s Carlo. Full name Carlo Bolognetta. He was the dude who was trying to save her. I keep searching, looking for the other dude, but don’t find him. Maybe she unfriended him, or knows him only from Snapchat—for a lot of people, TikTok and Snapchat are the only socials they’re on, these days.

I check Nicolo’s friends list for the other dude next, since my brother was the one who arranged to have my bachelor party at his house. Still can’t find him. Unfortunately, I can’t actually ask my brother who he is, seeing as Nicolo’s detained by the Jackal at the moment. There are other ways to track the dude down, but I’ll concentrate on Carlo for now.

I go back to Carlo and click his profile but don’t see any recent status updates. He lists his father on his page, though, one Achille Bolognetta. I follow the link to Achille’s profile. It lists his job. Some kind of suit… he’s a debt consolidation specialist. It also shows his place of work. Perfect.

I look up the address in my Maps app. “Cateno, drive here.” I read the address to him.

“You got it Boss,” Cateno replies. He does a U-Turn across four lanes of traffic and we head in the opposite direction. Cars honk and brakes screech, and the drivers give us dirty looks, but I don’t give a fuck. Cateno wears a grim, determined expression the whole time.

As do I.

We arrive at the address. The debt consolidation place is nestled between a mattress shop and a dry cleaner along a busy intersection. Cateno double-parks and I stalk inside.

“Do you have an appointment?” the man behind the closest desk asks. I ignore him, my gaze on the individual seated at the desk behind him.

I stride toward him. He looks up from his computer with an annoyed expression that quickly transforms into fear when he sees my face.

“You’re the father of Carlo?” I ask.

“What has he done now?” Achille Bolognetta answers.

“Does he live at home with you?” I press. Most young men and women of Carlo’s age live with their parents in Sicily, so it’s a safe assumption.

Achille nods. “Yes. Why? Who are you?”

I flick my suit jacket open so he can see the chest holster I’m wearing underneath, and the gun within. “I’m the one asking the questions. Call your son, now.”

Achille’s eyes remain glued to my holster as he retrieves his cellphone. I let my jacket close and he switches his attention to his phone. He unlocks it and before he can do something stupid like dial the police I snatch it from his grasp.

“Hey!” he exclaims, but otherwise remains seated.

I scroll through his contacts until I find his son. “The first number is his mobile, I assume? And the second your home number?”

Achille nods. “Yes.”

I dial the mobile. It goes straight to voice mail. Then I try the home number. It rings several times before an answering machine takes over. I hang up, enter the two numbers into my own phone, and record Achille’s number as well, then toss his cell back onto the desk.

“Where is your son now?” I ask

“He should be at home,” Achille tells me. “Or maybe visiting friends.”

“Give me your home address,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Losing patience I stalk to the other side of the desk and pull out my gun. I stab the muzzle under his chin. “Give me the fucking address.”

Trembling in fear, Achille obeys. I memorize the address, then step back, stowing my gun. I head toward the entrance.

The dude at the other desk is on the phone, and he’s giving me a worried look. No doubt calling the police.

Doesn’t matter. I’ll be long gone by the time they arrive. I doubt they’ll send a squad car to Achille’s home address, but if they do, I’m not planning on staying too long anyway.

I hop into my ride. I’m fairly happy that Cateno double-parked here, because it means the vehicle is shielded from Achille’s view by the other cars beside it. He won’t be recording a make and model or a license plate.

We reach the address fifteen minutes later. Cateno finds an empty spot on the street outside.