Page 19 of Little Rabbit

“Nothing by plane?” Lazaro asks, leaning forward, all humor gone from his expression.

“No. And no private planes have taken off from any airports within one hundred kilometres other than yours,” Aurelio adds.

“What about car rentals?” another deep voice asks, and I recognize it as belonging to Nico’s Underboss, and Sofia’s lover, Dante Esposito. The man has balls being around all of us, considering that when we found out about their relationship in New York, her brothers tried to kill him a couple of times with some well aimed knives. I threw one myself, of course, just on principle. Still, any fool can see he’s besotted with Sofia, despite her clear assumption the arrangement isn’t permanent. Though something tells me she’ll be getting a rude awakening soon enough.

I also can give the man his due: he’s a damn good Underboss by all accounts, and he keeps Nico’s entire operation running smoothly. I suppose there are worse people Sofia could align herself with, but if he hurts her, I’ll hunt him down and kill him slowly and painfully.

“Nothing,” Aurelio replies, drawing me out of my thoughts. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one that’s not registered to her at her disposal. I haven’t found one under her name, her family’s, or the family that owned the condo. I have my men searching other known connections that frequent the area, but nothing so far.”

My frustration boils, and I have to use every ounce of self-control to contain it. How the fuck can a woman just disappear? On the heels of my frustration is a genuine fear. Fear that anyone could grab her, and I’ll never find her. The risks she’s taking with her own life are unacceptable, and while I understand her desire for independence, it means shit when she has dangerous people after her. Her pride is preventing her from realizing how much danger she’s in.

“What about talking to her parents?” Zeno asks curiously. “Would they know something or have an idea where she could be heading?”

“They won’t help us find her,” I grit out. I feel strung so tight that if I don’t relieve the tension soon, I’ll go insane. But that will have to wait until I find Sienna. “And Sienna won’t contact them, because she knows I’ll be keeping tabs.”

“What about her best friend?” Alonzo questions. “The one in the States? Do you think she’ll contact her for help?”

“I had her friend’s phone hacked,” Aurelio answers. “A call came in from what looks to be a burner number earlier today from Europe, and it lasted for about fifteen minutes. The time difference puts it just before Sienna got to the condo. I’ve also checked her other communications, such as email, texts, and socials, and there’s nothing there from Sienna since before she took off.”

“Sienna is going to call her again,” I predict, my mind already spinning. “It will be a burner phone, but it won’t be until she gets to her next destination. But I am not waiting that long, so we need to fucking find her before the De Lucas or Parisis do.”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on the Parisis,” Urso butts in. “There has been no movement here, and from all accounts, Rafaele is still in the states.”

“You think he doesn’t realize she’s not even there anymore?” Lazaro asks.

“Possible, but doubtful,” Nico answers, his tone dark. “Whether or not Giovanni let Rafaele know to save his own skin is the question. The problem in that family is they know all their weaknesses and can play off them to get ahead. But it will also be what will eventually destroy them.”

“Dario De Luca landed in Spain a few hours ago, so he’s already hot on her trail,” Aurelio replies grimly. “He brought one other man with him, but I’ve gotten word that some other De Luca men have boarded planes and are already halfway across the Atlantic.”

“But no Parisi?” I ask.

“Not that we can see,” Aurelio answers.

“I wouldn’t put it past Giovanni to be keeping information close to the chest,” Dante admonishes. “I also wouldn’t put it past the sleazy fucker to already be trying to approach someone else for help.”

“He does that, and he and his sons are as good as dead,” Papa states.

“Would be one less problem to contend with,” Lazaro agrees. “But I doubt we’ll get that lucky. It’s clear we need to find her. She doesn’t have many options. She can either go further south and head for Africa, head back across the sea, or deeper into Europe. I suppose she could head for Asia, but that would be harder to do without flying, and I doubt she’ll drive that far.”

My mind is whirling, trying to figure out her next move. I grab her file again, ignoring the conversation around me. Where are you heading, little rabbit? What am I missing?

The file is full of information, some that was only sent through in the last twenty-four hours, but it paints a vivid picture of who Sienna Harris is. She loves all things nature, a lot of the pictures we have of her are outside in the sun, smiling, and looking carefree. Most of them are from her now silent social media, but it’s enough for me to know that she’s not going to head north. She’s not the type to go somewhere cold. No, she’s instinctively going to head somewhere warm and sunny, where she can blend in to the tourist crowd if she needs to escape.

Some of the pictures show her in different countries, most of them either European or South American, but a few are in what I can only assume are London and LA, based on the background scenery. Sienna has clearly travelled a lot in her short lifetime, but no one place sticks out as a favorite. She doesn’t seem to visit anywhere more than once.

I flip through the pages, reading the accomplishments she has racked up in the last five years. Despite how angry I am, pride fills me at seeing how talented she is. Sienna is well-respected in her field by her own merit, not based on her family’s reputation, being tagged in many different posts and reviews on the website and various social media. She’s brushed elbows with some minor celebrities, and even a few well-known figures. One post in particular shows her smiling widely, her face close to well-known singer, Branson Booth, on what looks like a yacht. He’s shirtless, and she’s wearing a simple black one-piece bathing suit; both are holding glasses of champagne. The caption on the post thanks her for doing some amazing work on their logos, banners, and even the album cover. But it’s the ending of the post that captures my attention. It says he’s made a new friend, and he can’t wait to see his fans in Greece at the same festival again next year. I glance at the date and after a quick search on the festival details, it just so happens to be this weekend.

Gotcha, Sienna.

“Aurelio,” I bark, stopping him mid-sentence. “Branson Booth, where is his yacht currently docked, or scheduled to make port?”

Aurelio pauses. “Give me a minute.” I hear him move away from the phone and talking quietly in the background.

“You interested in taking in a concert at a time like this, brother?” Massimo questions.

“No,” I snap. “But there is a post from some fucking celebrity about playing at a festival that’s happening this weekend, and the last time he was there, Sienna helped him out with a bunch of shit and he made a post about it.”

“And you think she’s gone to him to bum a ride,” Dante summarizes. “The woman is a fucking marvel.”

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