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Chapter Nineteen

Angelo

Where was she?

I lean to the side, sipping at my spiked drink. The alcohol is taking the edge off the ache in my hand, which is nice. I can’t wait for it to be back to normal. It’s a small injury, but so inconvenient in so many ways.

Surely, it shouldn’t take this long to pee. But girls were always taking forever to do everything, so I rock back and forth on my heels for a bit longer, my eyes trained on the dingy bathroom structure.

Finally, I decide that I need to go see what is up. Maybe she isn't feeling well. I remember that Justine had said she had had the flu or something last week. Maybe she was lightheaded and was leaning against the wall of the building.

I wander toward the bathroom and realize that the door in is not also set up as an exit, so I go toward the back of the building. Maybe I can just pull the door and call to her from there.

As I walk around the back of the building, my heart leaps into my chest at the sight of a smashed iPhone on the ground. It's sparkly and gold, just like Sophia’s.

I hurry over, dropping the drinks without caring that they have spilled all over the ground.

The phone is dead when I pick it up, but I would know the case anywhere. Justine had brought it with her from the UK and they had both been giggling over it. It was a designer brand or something.

I text Franco, 9-1-1. Sophia is in danger. Get down here to park and meet me.

I hurried around the area, trying to find other clues or signs of where she had gone. My blood felt like ice in my veins as I realized that there was nothing, no sign of where she had gone or who had taken her. However, I had a good idea.

“Dammit!” I curse. We had been so foolish. Why had I given in to her silly desire to have fun like normal people, without our guards accompanying us? An hour of fun was never worth this kind of risk and I felt like an asshole for allowing this.

On my way , Franco sends back. The guards will get there first.

I hurried back to the center of the park, scanning the area for my guards or for Guiseppe and his men.

There was no one else who could have taken her like this. No one else would have risked such a public kidnapping. And, I had to admit to myself, no one else could have stolen her from under my nose like this.

“Boss!”

I turned to see a small group of my guards running toward me. I fill them in quickly and tell them to spread out and look for any clues at all, her scarf, signs of a scuffle, cars that are parked on the street that look suspicious, anything.

I watch them all disperse and look around with frustration.

I thought of the damn tracker jewelry that I had bought for us. She had been so upset by the idea of wearing it, that I hadn’t pressed her about it. Now that seemed like just one of many stupid choices we had both made over the past few weeks.

My eyes landed on the little group of vendors where we had gotten our hot chocolate. I strode over, immediately demanding if anyone at the hot dog stand had seen my wife or where she had gone. I went from cart to cart, but no one had seen anything.

“Fuck!” I growl, kicking at a rock near the edge of one of the planters. It hurt my foot and I grimace. Childish behavior wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I tell myself to calm down.

“Excuse me.”

I glance over my shoulder to see a nervous-looking young man looking at me. He was glancing around like he thought he might be in danger and I could practically see him quivering.

“Yes?” I try not to be short with him. Maybe he had something useful to tell me.

“Well, you seem like you might be looking for someone…or something,” he stammers. “Is it your…girlfriend that you skated with?”

I nod. “My wife, yes.” I describe her briefly to the young man, and he nods.

He swallows hard, “I think I saw her being pushed into a big, black car over there by the dumpsters. I was taking out the trash from the skating rink. A man…he looked like mafia…like you…he was dragging her, and then he pushed her into the car and they drove off.” He gulps again and gives me an apologetic look.

I nod. “That’s helpful. Where did the car go?”

“That way,” the man says, pointing in the direction of the docks. I saw them take the first left at the corner of the park, and then another right.”

“Thank you,” I say to him. “What’s your name?”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. No need to do anything for me,” he says as he hurries off.

I sigh. Everyone in this city knew a mob man when they saw one. I didn’t blame him. It was brave of him to stick his neck out at all.

They went to the docks based on what a witness said , I texted Franco and my guards.

I’ll pick you guys up , Franco sent back. He dropped a pin in the chat, and I moved toward it.

The docks. We had just blown up the shipment of illegal goods that Guiseppe had stashed there, but I didn’t think he would take her to a place that we were already familiar with.

I can't help but ponder the rumors that I had been looking into about his interest in human trafficking.

I didn’t know a lot about the business since it is entirely despicable, but I know that most of the men who participated in it own ships that are used for other purposes. The women and children were typically smuggled inside metal shipping containers that are labeled as innocuous goods.

I pull out my phone. I need to call in a favor. I look at the contact in my phone and grimace.

I hate bringing Rudolpho Masi into this. He left years ago, made a clean break. But I need the help of a skilled hacker and he is the best person to reach out to for this kind of need.

I hesitate, thinking of the day that I had handed him his forged documents.

Rudolpho was a small, slender man, entirely ordinary, but his dark eyes blazed with intensity in his narrow face. If you never met his gaze, you would have no idea who you were dealing with. He has the perfect cover in his ordinariness. Only his eyes ruin his disguise.

He had wanted to go to a place with a beach to surf, sip on fruity drinks and stay away from trouble. The FBI had wanted to hire him, but he had an everlasting hatred of cops and couldn’t bring himself to hack for them.

I helped him escape. I was proud of that. I hated the idea of bringing him into this.

“Nothing else to do,” I mutter to myself, making the decision to do it.

I hit the call button as I strode toward the pin that Franco had sent. The line is ringing as I climb into the car. I was afraid that Rudolpho wouldn’t pick up, but then I heard his tight, staccato voice on the other end of the line.

“Long time no chat, Angelo.”

I let out a sigh. “I need a favor, Rudy.”

“I thought so,” Rudy answers sagely.

“It’s Sophia. Guiseppe has her.”

There was a silence on the end of the line. Rudy had grown up as part of Sophia’s father’s house. He would have been one of the children who played with her when she was small.

“She’s back?” he asks, his voice tighter than usual.

“We’re married. We honored the betrothal. Guiseppe is not happy.”

“Clearly,” he says drily. “Fine. What do you need?”

“I need to know if Guiseppe or any of his buddies owns a shipping company, or has a ship that they might be using for human trafficking. I think he might try and take her out of the country to force my hand. He wants to take over the Agostini family and he’s crazy enough to do anything to accomplish his goal.”

“I got out,” Rudy reminds me.

I blow out a breath. “I know. You can say no. I would understand.”

“Fuck,” Rudy says quietly. “That’s the thing about you, Angelo. You’re so fucking nice that it’s hard to say no to you.”

I grin to myself as we drive toward the docks.

“I’ll check it out. Dig up anything that I can,” Rudy tells me. “I’ll book a plane ticket too. You need someone like me and I know you don’t have anyone.”

“Don’t do anything crazy on our behalf,” I urge him, worry lancing through me. Rudy was a good dude. He didn’t need to come back to the life for me or for Sophia. I was already asking too much of him by calling in a favor.

“I’m goddamn bored,” he drawls in my ear. “You can take the life out of the mobster, but you can’t take the mobster out of the mob…or something like that. Plus, Sophia is a good person. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Rudy,” I say to him just before he hung up. Calls with Rudy were always brief so that no one could trace the call. I was used to him hanging up without saying goodbye.

“Rudy doing some digging?” Franco says sagely.

I nod. “Good guy.”

“The best,” Franco echoes, navigating another turn.

I only hope his help won’t be too little, too late.