Page 14 of She Found Me

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Take matters into my own hands. Lorenzo is going to wish he never laid eyes on me.”

I dread to think what that means. I pick Tipsy up and make my way out of the bedroom.

“Do you want a coffee before you go?” I call back to Marco, feeling stunned by my words. Marco in my home is very surreal.

“No, I need to go. But there’s surprise on the kitchen table for you. Be careful when you open it.”

A surprise? Marco has never got me anything before. Feeling a little bit excited, I go into the kitchen and let Tipsy outside. I see a large black box on the table. It’s very heavy and well sealed. I get some scissors and open the top. Inside, there’s a vacuumed-packed plastic bag containing what looks like some sort of skin. Feeling nervous about what it is, I carefully lift it out of the box. Is it a dead pig? Blood saturates the inside of the package.

“Urgh!” I drop it and jump back, crashing into Marco’s chest. He holds me upright. “What the hell is that?”

“Does the name John Wince mean anything to you?”

I think for a moment. “It rings a bell, but I’m not sure why.”

“John Wince was the organiser of the Wince dog fighting organisation. That is his leg.”

“Bloody hell, Marco, get that thing out of here.”

“Someone will be round to collect it later.” Marco walks over to the door and lets Tipsy in. “I’m having it skinned so all the dogs can gnaw at the bone.” He strokes his new best friend and then leaves the house.

I’m stuck on the spot, unable to move, my mouth agape.

Chapter 8

Marco

I’ve been going over the options all night, and there is only one solution. He is trying to take me down, so I do one better. Starting with getting my men out of jail, which can’t be done legally.

Van arrives to pick me up from my house. I drove back in plenty of time to not arouse suspicion. Although who I fuck is my business, I do have a lot of respect for Van. But I need to understand what exactly is happening with his sister before anyone else finds out.

“Boss.” Van nods at me through the review mirror when I get in the back seat. “The team are at the house, waiting for the go-ahead. There are six armed police officers with two dogs.”

“Bring them all in. Shoot to stop, not to kill. And no harm must come to the dogs.” The car suddenly comes to a stop.

Van eyeballs me through the mirror. “Did you say no harm to the dogs?”

“Yes, Van. Are you going deaf? Shoot to stop, not to kill. And no harm must come to the dogs.”

Van raises his eyebrows with wide eyes, then continues to drive.

“The more hostages the better. We will need the names of each officer and their family contacts. Let’s hope they all have wives and children.”

“Should we bring the dogs as hostages as well?” Van asks.

“Stop with all the fucking dog talk. What do you not understand? Leave the dogs there. Don’t touch the fucking dogs.”

Van briefly raises his hands in the air in apology before returning them to the steering wheel. I cannot be dealing with bullshit today. We sit in silence for the rest of the drive. It takes about forty minutes. When we pull up, I see my men stood outside the door to the office building. More of my men are bringing out police officers one by one.

“He’s on the top floor, boss.”

Not replying, I make my way inside and go up the four flights of stairs. When I reach the top floor, I can see Lorenzo through the glass door, sitting at his desk. His eyes are on me. He has the look of his own death on his face.

“Mr. Guerra, you’re making a big mistake. If you kill me, you will still be in the same position. The whole police force and Italian intelligence agencies are on to you now. There is no going back. You’re just making everything ten times worse for yourself.”

Letting him blabber on in fear, I walk around the office. Boxes of files line the floors, along with piles of paperwork and evidence bags.

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