Page 86 of Taboo Flames

“Boss, I’m sorry—” he croaks.

“He’s been shot,” Fiore states the obvious. “It doesn’t look like they hit anything serious, but he’s bleeding out. And fast.”

Fiore and another guy lay him out on the back seat of the car and begin to cut away the shirt sticking to his bloodied body.

“They came out of nowhere as if they knew to expect me,” Carlos groaned weakly. “I don’t know how they lured Miss Vitale out here, but they’re long gone now.”

I suspected as much.

While they work on keeping Carlos’s condition stable, I call Giordano.

“Hello?” a strange voice says.

My eyebrows twitch in confusion. “Put Giordano on the phone.”

“Giordano can’t come to the phone now,” the man replies in a mild tone. “He’s had a sudden health complication that’s put him on bed rest for now and for a while.”

Concern for him replaces some of my fears about Aurora. “Is he alright? What happened?”

“Giordano is an old man, and he’s lived a hard life,” the man says. “That’s all I can say for now. Would you like to leave a message though?”

“It’s fine. He should have his rest.”

I hang up, wondering how I’m going to find a man who seems to be a ghost. I hate the helplessness I feel right now. I promised to protect Aurora, and I’m doing a dismal job at it.

Right as I’m about to throw in the towel and call Leo to admit to having lost his sister, Fiore rushes to me, holding his phone out.

“Boss, for you.”

I take the phone and press it to my ear. “Speak.”

“I have information about Il Sguardo Nero and his crawlers. Meet me at Estes in an hour. Sit at the bar, and I’ll find you.” Then, the line goes dead.

In all my search so far, nobody has admitted to even knowing the name Il Sguardo Nero or those that have suddenly disappeared into thin air, so this is by far the biggest lead we have ever gotten.

“Take care of Carlos, and then find the cab driver who brought Aurora here. He may have seen something,” I order Fiore. “I’m going to go meet this guy.”

“Is it safe, boss? It could be a trap,” Fiore says with a frown.

“It’s a public bar. The worst he’s going to do is not show up,” I assure him before going back to my car.

Estes is a local sports bar that serves watered-down beers to the locals. There’s a bar fight every other day, and it smells like cheap cigarettes and whiskey.

As I make my way to the bar in the overcrowded room, several bodies bump into me, increasing my annoyance greatly.

“Sorry, signor,” somebody apologizes as they bump into me.

I look to the side and see Estefan Guerra staring at me in surprise.

“Giovanni, I must say it’s a surprise to see you around these parts,” he says curiously.

“And I didn’t know you were a fan of rowdy sports bars,” I point out.

He laughs and holds out his hand. “Let’s agree we never saw each other here then.”

“Good plan.” I hold out my hand to shake his, and his eyes land on my mother’s chaplet.

“I’ve not been able to stop thinking of this chaplet,” he informs me. “I had them specially made for Ysabel, and this one’s far too identical.”

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