Page 30 of The Woman at the Funeral (Costa Family #11)

Nico

Objectively, it was way too soon to confess the things I had to Blair.

That said, ours wasn’t a normal “new” relationship. I had years of knowing her from afar, of collecting the little pieces of her and keeping them on a shelf, dusting and caring for them, despite knowing I would never get to have her myself.

We had some time in, even if it wasn’t traditional.

And once we started getting intimate, yeah, there was no denying what was between us.

It was something real and rare and worth confessing, even if it was new.

So, yeah, I was fucking floating the whole way to pick up Goya from Brio.

He’d taken the dog to Central Park to blow off some extra energy along with a few of his own dogs.

“Sorry I’m so late,” I said as I walked up.

“Yeah, been late for woman reasons before too. I get it. And congrats, man. She’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, she is,” I agreed, taking Goya’s leash. “How’d he do?”

“Doesn’t seem to understand that little dogs can’t play as rough as he does. But he’s a good listener. Though, yeah, the squirrels are his arch enemies. Bout took my fuckin’ arm off. Which gives me an idea…”

“On that note,” I cut him off. I appreciated that the Family needed someone like him. But I generally preferred not hearing all the depraved torture techniques he had up in his head. “I gotta get some dinner for Blair.”

“Yeah, yeah, go enjoy your love nest, man.”

I was eager to get back to the safe house, to eat our food, curl up with Blair, and talk about our plans for the future.

So I swung by the Chinese place then we made our way back up the stairs toward the apartment.

“Excited to see Mom, huh?” I asked as he sniffed and scratched at the door when I reached for my keys. “Alright, bud. Calm down,” I said, opening the door.

Goya lurched forward, rushing into the apartment and going right behind the door.

My gaze slid to the table, finding Blair had set it.

But something felt wrong.

It wasn’t until I watched a stream of hot wax slip down the stick and land on the table, piling onto more steadily drying wax that I understood why the feeling was there.

Because Blair, lover of all things clean and organized, would never let wax drip and dry on the table.

It was then that Goya whined, making me turn to see him still behind the door, sniffing something on the ground with his tail tucked.

“What is it?” I asked, stepping closer.

But then I saw it.

Blood.

“Blair?” I yelled, running through the apartment. But I knew. I already knew she was gone.

The bag of Chinese food fell from my hands as I ran back through the house.

Reaching down, I grabbed Goya’s leash and pulled him with me out of the apartment as I reached for my phone.

“I’m working on it, man,” Zeno greeted on the third ring.

“Zen, she’s gone. I need the footage from the camera at the safe house.”

“Blair’s gone? Maybe she just took the dog for a walk.”

“I have Goya. And there’s blood on the floor.”

“Fuck,” Zen hissed. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m on my way to you,” I said, hailing a cab and climbing inside. “I need to call everyone. But if you find something, call me back.”

With that, I gave the cab driver Zeno’s address as I called Leo.

“Yo.”

“They took Blair,” I said.

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll spread the word. What do you need from me?”

“Meet me at Zen’s.”

“Okay. Will do. Listen, we’re gonna find her.”

“Yeah. We have to.”

I let Leo handle the rest. Then I just sat, mind racing, for the whole drive back to Zeno’s place.

“Zen!” I yelled, banging on the door when I arrived.

He slid the locks and let me in.

“Look, it’s not good news.”

“Zen, I don’t want to hear that.”

“I saw the shadows coming up the stairs, but they must have clocked the camera before they came all the way up. All I saw was a ducked head in a baseball cap before the feed cut.”

“God damnit ,” I snapped, swinging an arm across his desk, sending paper coffee cups flying.

“I’m working on it,” Zeno said, dropping into his chair as Goya walked around the room, whimpering for a moment, then dropping down onto his bed, looking defeated. “There’s gotta be cameras on the street around there.” He was mostly talking to himself.

“Sorry, bud,” I said, walking over to Goya to give his head a pet. “I’m gonna find her, okay?”

Goya huffed, putting his head back down and refusing to look up again.

Feeling useless, I paced Zeno’s apartment as he clicked and mumbled, trying to find me something.

Half an hour passed.

“Hey, we’re gonna get her,” Leo said, appearing at my side. His hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder, and giving it a squeeze.

“We have to,” I said, jaw tight.

Leo was on a constant loop of phone calls as Gav and Cesare showed up, offering their assurances.

But they were all empty.

None of us could do anything.

Except Zeno.

Who had a wild look on his face as he hit roadblock after roadblock until…

“Got it!” he declared, making my stomach flip as I rushed over toward his desk.

It was well over an hour since I’d gotten to the apartment and found the blood. There was potentially another hour she could have been missing before I even got back there, judging by the melted candles.

“Here, watch this,” Zeno said, pointing to the very edge of the grainy footage he found. “That’s baseball cap guy,” he said, catching just the corner of a man as he glanced out of the door beside the convenience store.

He disappeared for a second.

And when he came out again, he had his arm around a woman. Around Blair.

She was leaning against his chest.

The sight made my heart lurch.

Until I realized her feet and legs weren’t moving. She wasn’t leaning into him. She was being carried by him.

No.

Not just him.

As Blair became fully visible, another arm was clearly wrapped around her.

Not a man this time.

A tall, thin woman.

“No fucking way,” Leo said as Zeno paused the screen.

“Who is it?” Gav asked, trying to shoulder in.

“Mother fucker ,” I snarled, turning away from the computer to pace a few steps.

Ronny?

It was fucking Ronny?

I’d been accepting the possibility that she knew about the idea. But not that she would be capable of violence, of kidnapping.

“They drugged her,” Gav observed.

“And she’s bleeding,” Zeno added.

I wasn’t aware a growl had escaped me until I felt Leo’s hand on my shoulder again.

“We’re ready to go. Just tell us where.”

Where?

I didn’t know where.

Ronny’s place?

I didn’t think she could bring Blair there without being seen or heard. But if Tom was home…

Well, let’s just say that with the rage bubbling up inside me, I was ready to do some of the wicked shit that Brio did with my own two hands.

“Zen,” Leo called. “You stay here. Watch the dog. Try to dig up places they might take Blair.”

Thank God for Leo.

Not a single thought seemed to be forming enough for me right then.

“Let’s go.”

Leo took the lead with me following and Gav and Cesare behind me.

It wasn’t a long drive back toward Ronny’s apartment building. But I grew tenser with each passing second.

By the time we climbed out of Leo’s car, I was practically vibrating with rage.

Cesare moved ahead of us, making short work of the lock, then moving aside to let me charge in first.

I expected to find Tom sitting there in his beat-up old recliner with the mismatched dish towels on the arms because Ronny always claimed his arms were filthy and messed up the chair’s fabric.

But the living room was empty.

The TV (that I’d never seen black in my life) was off.

Since the last time I’d visited, the place had become emptier. Pictures were no longer on the walls. Shelves were cleared off.

Ronny was planning on leaving.

Soon.

She’d gotten too impatient and had decided to cut to the chase and just force Blair to give her what she wanted.

There was one problem, though.

Blair didn’t have the files anymore.

Or the laptop.

She had nothing to leverage for her freedom.

Panic welled up as I rushed through the familiar apartment, seeing it with different eyes.

“Zen, you gotta get me something,” I heard Leo say through the walls. “He can’t lose her.”

I moved into Ronny and Tom’s room, yanking open drawers, upturning them on the bed, then digging through the contents.

But it was all just… junk. Lotion, clothes, random pictures.

I tore through the closet next, whipping everything out, then making sure there were no hiding spots in the wall or floors.

There was nothing— nothing —that indicated they were criminals at all. Let alone masterminds.

“Where is Danny living? Here?”

“Not technically, no. He had to go to an approved location for parole. But he does crash at his parents’ place when he wasn’t expecting a drop-in from his parole officer.”

I whipped past Matt’s room, which was still perfectly preserved from the last time he’d been living there. Old movie and music posters from Matt’s early adulthood still hung. But there was a bottle of a recently released cologne on the dresser.

While Matt’s room was cluttered and disorganized, Danny’s room was a complete and utter disaster.

When I pushed the door, it met with resistance and sent a pile behind the door toppling.

“Christ,” Gav grumbled from behind my shoulder. “Shocked Ronny let him keep it like this.”

Unless, of course, the mess was a distraction, making you think there was no way anyone would keep important documents or information in such a disaster area.

So I moved inside, systematically going through the drawers, closet, under the bed, then even using my toe to dig through the piles of crap on the floor.

There was a sheet of balled-up paper listing all the things Danny wanted to buy with the money from selling me and my family out to our enemies.

The fucking idiot wanted a Ferrari and a yacht.

A fucking yacht .

By the time we’d dug through every inch of the apartment, another hour had ticked by.

An hour where fuck-knew what was happening to Blair.

“Zen, please tell me you have something. Danny’s apartment. A family vacation house, something,” I said as I charged back out of the apartment.