Page 52

Stefan woke with a groan, his head splitting.

He slapped a hand onto the nightstand, searching for his phone, then realized the device was on the bed with him.

Squinting, he checked the time.

It was nearly eight-thirty.

Cursing, he hurried into the bathroom.

Yesterday, after following the woman to the park and overhearing her conversation, he’d returned to his hotel to strategize on how to best mess things up for Gennaro.

That quickly proved to be a waste of time.

While he knew Gennaro was going after a “big score,” he had no idea what that score was or where it was taking place.

The only thing he did know was that it was supposed to occur midday on Friday.

He’d gone on a walk to clear his head and ended up buying a bottle of cheap whiskey from a liquor store down the street.

Hence his hangover.

The only plan he’d been able to come up with yesterday was to return to Gennaro’s street early and hope that the woman came out again to make another call.

So much for the early start.

A hot shower and the rush of adrenaline helped dull his headache, and by the time he was dressed and heading out, he was feeling almost human.

When he reached Gennaro’s street, he stayed on the other side of the road, but couldn’t see much, thanks to the brick wall around the property.

He settled into the same spot on a corner that he’d occupied the day before—in front of an empty house with a For Sale sign out front.

From there, he had a good view of the gate to Gennaro’s house.

“Come on, lady, let’s go for another walk, huh?”

“You’re sure that’s the same guy you saw yesterday?” Pinkie asked.

“Yeah,” Toomey said.

“Same spot, too.”

The two men were with Miguel and Scotty Ochoa in a darkened second-story room of a house for sale, across the street and a few lots down from Gennaro’s place.

The guy Toomey was talking about was leaning against the stone retaining wall that ran in front of the house they were using.

Yesterday, Miguel had put Toomey in charge of keeping an eye on Gennaro, since he was the man most familiar with Gennaro’s activities.

Because of the text Miguel had received telling him Gennaro’s plans had been moved up a day, he and Pinkie had come this morning to monitor the situation themselves.

“And you’re saying he’s also the same guy who hired Gennaro to intimidate Barrington?” Pinkie said.

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s he doing here now?”

“No clue.”

“I think we need to have a chat with him.”

It didn’t take long for Stefan to grow bored enough to pull out his phone for something to do.

As he did, a piece of paper came out with it and fell to the ground.

He picked it up and grimaced.

It was the business card from the guy who’d been with Sara at Clarke’s.

Ashton Williamson

Associate Attorney

Woodman & Weld

Stefan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a more pretentious-sounding name.

He flipped the card over, and the annoyance he’d been feeling evaporated at the sight of Sara’s familiar handwriting.

He wanted to send her a text but worried that would distract him from dealing with Gennaro.

But then again, she had suggested they get coffee.

It would be weird if he didn’t text her.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he typed out a message.

Good morning!

It’s Stefan.

Just wanted to wish you a good day.

He considered suggesting they meet up, but he didn’t want to push too much in this first text.

He read it over again, nodded to himself, and sent it.

He then switched to Candy Crush, and was just getting into a groove when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” he blurted out as his head spun to see who it was.

“Hey, buddy.”

Stefan’s eyes bugged out.

The hand belonged to the guy who’d told him he should leave Clarke’s the other night.

The guy who worked for Gennaro.

“Hi,” he squeaked.

“My boss wants to talk to you.”

“Wh-why? I’m just passing through. I, um, I stopped to answer a text. That’s all.”

“Is that right?” The man jutted his chin toward Stefan’s phone.

On the screen was the round of Candy Crush that Stefan was seconds away from losing.

Stefan turned his phone off and shoved the device into his pocket.

“Doesn’t matter what I was doing. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Who said anything about you doing something wrong?”

“Then why does he want to talk to me?”

“You’ll have to ask him that.”

Stefan briefly thought about running, but he doubted he’d get far before the guy grabbed him again.

He’d just have to lie to Gennaro.

Maybe tell him he was thinking about hiring him again and was waiting to hear back from someone with info.

That should work.

“Fine,” he said.

He took one step toward Gennaro’s house before the guy clamped onto his shoulder again.

“Not that way.”

“Huh?”

The guy grabbed the back of his shirt and turned him in the other direction.

“Around the corner.”

Stefan was confused, but he did as the man asked.

The guy stopped him again when they reached a gate leading into the empty house’s backyard.

“Through there.”

“I don’t understand.”

Slowly enunciating his words, the guy said, “Through there.”

After they entered the backyard, the man guided Stefan to the back door and into the kitchen.

Present was a pair of tough-looking men.

The older one looked to be in his sixties and was leaning against the center island, while the other looked around the same age as Stefan and was sitting on the counter by the stove.

“Who do we have here?” the older one asked.

The big man nudged Stefan in the back.

“I’m, uh…I’m Stefan.”

“You have a last name, Stefan?”

“Howard.”

“That’s another first name.”

“It’s my last, I swear.”

“Stefan Howard?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d think that would be confusing. Miguel, don’t you think that would be confusing?”

The one sitting on the counter nodded.

“Sounds confusing to me.”

The older guy looked back at Stefan.

“It ever cause you problems?”

Stefan shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Huh.” The man pushed off the island.

“I’m Pinkie, by the way. And in case you didn’t catch it, my friend over there is Miguel.”

The guy on the counter waved.

“Hello, Stefan Howard.”

Pinkie nodded toward the big man who’d brought Stefan inside.

“I’m told you already know my friend Toomey.”

Feeling the need to show he wasn’t a pushover, Stefan said, “Do you guys have last names?”

Pinkie stared at him for several seconds, then laughed.

“We’ve got a funny guy, Miguel.”

“Really fun,” Miguel said, chuckling.

“Well, Mr. Two First Names,” Pinkie said.

“If I feel like you answer my questions honestly, maybe I’ll tell you my last name.”

“What kind of questions?”

“How about we start with why the hell are you keeping an eye on Ricky Gennaro’s place?”

“Who says I was keeping an eye on his place?”

“ I say you are. Miguel, Toomey, and I just spent fifteen minutes watching you watch his place. Toomey says you were here yesterday, too. Or are you going to tell me he was lying?”

Stefan crossed his arms.

“So, what if I was? What does it matter?”

Pinkie took a deep breath.

“Calm down there, Howie. We’re just having a conversation.”

“It’s Stefan.”

“You answer a few more questions, Stefan , and I let you go on with your life. But if you keep up this faux-tough-guy act, I’m not going to be happy. Miguel, tell him what happens when I’m not happy.”

“People get hurt,” Miguel said.

“That’s right,” Pinkie said.

“People get hurt.”

Four years in prison had taught Stefan that when backed into a corner, there were only two ways out—on a stretcher or on your feet after telling those threatening you what they want to know.

“Okay, fine. I’ve been watching his place.”

“So close. I didn’t ask if you were watching his place. I know you were watching his place. I asked you why .”

“Because he pissed me off, all right?”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” Miguel said.

“Let me guess,” Pinkie said.

“You want to get back at him for whatever he did to make you mad.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“No one said you shouldn’t. I’m curious, though. Do you have a plan? Or are you just winging it?”

Stefan looked from Pinkie to Miguel to Toomey and back.

“You seriously think I’d tell you guys? You work for him, right?”

Pinkie’s smile disappeared.

Miguel sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Oh, you did not just say that.”

“I do not work for Ricky Gennaro,” Pinkie growled.

“Ricky Gennaro works for me, and just barely at that.”

Confused, Stefan gestured at Toomey.

“But he works for Gennaro. That’s how I know him.”

“I’ve done work for him, but I don’t work for him,” Toomey said.

“There’s a difference.”

From somewhere farther in the house came the voice of another man, calling, “Pinkie, Rosa just walked out!”

“Bring him,” Pinkie said to Toomey before he and Miguel headed out of the room.

Toomey grabbed Stefan’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

They followed the other two men upstairs to a front bedroom, where the fourth man was standing next to the window, looking out through a pair of binoculars.

“Where is she?” Pinkie asked.

The man at the window handed over the binoculars and pointed down the block.

“On the opposite sidewalk. Heading the other way.”

Pinkie took a look, then asked, “We got someone on the street who can follow her?”

“Yeah, that new kid, Bernie Rios.”

“Rios?” Pinkie asked.

“The son of your mother’s friend,” Miguel reminded him.

“I thought we were giving him crap work.”

“Didn’t have anyone else available this morning.”

“Can he follow her without screwing up?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Pinkie grimaced, then said, “Send him.”

Toomey and Stefan joined them at the window as Miguel shot off a text.

Though Stefan didn’t have the aid of the binoculars, he could tell that the woman they were talking about was the same one he’d followed to the park.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

This was the exact situation he’d been waiting for, but here he was stuck in this house, unable to follow her.

Pinkie looked at him.

“What was that?”

Stefan hadn’t meant to speak out loud.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t think that’s true. You seem like you know her.”

“I think she works for Gennaro. That’s all.”

“Of course she does,” Miguel said.

“She’s his sister.”

Stefan couldn’t hold back a snort.

“His sister?”

“Why is that funny?” Pinkie asked.

“No reason.”

Eyes narrowing, Pinkie said, “Try again.”

“I, um, I followed her yesterday, and, uh, overheard her selling out her brother to someone on the phone. Said he’s got something big going down on Friday.” Stefan shrugged.

“I was thinking about trying to screw it up for him. But there goes my best chance for more information walking down the street.”

Stefan knew he shouldn’t have said that last bit, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Interesting,” Pinkie said.

When he didn’t elaborate, Stefan decided he’d had enough.

“You said if I answered your questions, you’d let me go. I’ve told you everything I know. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way.”

“What if I were to say we want similar things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you want Gennaro to suffer.”

“I do.”

“See, so do I.” Pinkie clapped him on the back.

“But I’m worried you’re going to get in my way. Miguel, what do we do with people who get in our way?”

“We make them disappear.”

“That’s right. We make them disappear.”

“Th-th-there’s no reason for that,” Stefan stammered.

“I-I won’t do anything, I promise! Or-or I could even help you. Yeah, anything you want I’ll—”

“Um, Mr. Ramirez?” Toomey said, cutting him off.

He was holding his phone, which was vibrating with an incoming call.

When Pinkie looked over, Toomey held up the screen.

The name on it read: Ricky Gennaro .