Page 72 of Craving Chaos

Conner’s spine goes ramrod straight. “What the fuck, Shae. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I had a lot on my mind,” I shoot back at him.

“I’ll see if I can get security footage from the building cameras.”

My instinct is to tell him I can do it, but something holds me back. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

Conner stares at me with a tinge of awe. “These past three weeks have changed you, haven’t they?” His question is sincere. Almost gentle.

“I think more than anything, Renzo has changed me,” I admit softly. “Hopefully for the better.”

He grins. “Surely, you couldn’t get any worse.”

And that’s why I love Conner. He speaks my language. When things get heavy, humor is always a good option.

“For you, I could try.” I shoot him a wide grin as I stand. He gets to his feet and pulls me into a big hug.

“Don’t do me any favors.” He pulls back and winks. “Now, go on. I have shit to do.”

“Need anything from me?”

“Not at the moment. Wait, I take that back. Go eat a burger. You’re too skinny.”

“Yes, sir.” I salute as I leave the office feeling more energized than I have in days.

As I near my home, I see Mari outside my building. She’s pacing. The likelihood of her being upset outside my place and it not having to do with me is unfathomably low. I have to wonder if she’s more upset about me ending things than she let on.

Memories of her flashes of jealousy pop into my head. She was incredibly emotional about my return, considering she’d thought for weeks that I was ghosting her. I knew she was more invested in the relationship than I was, but could it be worse than that? Could Mari have ransacked my apartment?

Maybe, if she thought I had abandoned her for someone else. She could have gone looking for proof of an affair. It seems a little absurd, but it makes sense. I don’t have any better explanation for the break-in, and her behavior now is definitely odd.

I consider walking over to confront her, but she takes off before I can get close enough. I’m not up for a chase. If she comes around, I’ll see what I can find out. Otherwise, I have bigger fish to fry than a dejected ex. And who knows, I could be completely off base, though I find that unlikely.

CHAPTER 43

RENZO

I’ve spent the past three evenings trying to identify the airfield where we were taken. After scouring pictures online for hours, I’ve come to the conclusion that Canadian airfields all look the same. If only there were more pictures of supply closets in airplane hangars. Oddly enough, that doesn’t seem to be a popular feature to advertise. Go figure.

We only saw a quick look at the area where the airstrip was located when we walked from the hangar to the plane. Most everything was covered in snow, however, so that hasn’t helped much. I’m having to fall back on deductive reasoning instead.

I’ve been able to roughly pinpoint where the cabin is approximately sixty miles northeast of L’Ascencion. The crash site couldn’t have been much more than a couple of miles from there, and we were in the air for no more than thirty minutes before we crashed. With an average airspeed of 200 mph, that gives me a one-hundred-mile radius of possibilities with those on the southern side of that circle significantly more likely than the northern side. This would be incredibly helpful if rural Canada didn’t have a ridiculous number of small privately run airstrips.

Taking all things into consideration, I’ve zoned in on three that I believe are the most likely candidates. The only way to confirm beyond that is to go in person and see them with my own eyes.

Maybe it’s a waste of time to chase down answers like that. Some might say what’s done is done, but that’s not who I am. I need to know who was responsible. And I want everyone in the city to hear how I hunted down every last one of them.

The minute a family goes soft and allows something as personal as a boss to be taken hostage, that’s the beginning of the end. It reeks of weakness. Vulnerability.

I refuse to allow it.

Even if I’m not at the helm when this is over, I won’t be known as the man who led the Moretti family to ruin.

“I need to leave town for a few days,” I tell Gino over dinner. “Not exactly sure how long it’ll take, but I’ll be in touch.”

“You find something?”

I shrug and pat my napkin to my lips. “Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, I have to try.” And no one else can do it for me. If I can find the airfield where we were kept, I know in my gut it will lead to useful information. And once I pinpoint who was responsible, I’ll rip their fucking throats out. No one pulls that shit with the Morettis and gets away with it.

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