Page 23 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“Without a doubt,” Enzo replies, nodding.

“Where are the kids now?”

“With our police connections,” Enzo tells me, “but who knows how many more there are? It looks like …”

“Go on,” I snap when Enzo trails off. “We can’t hide from the facts. We can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

“We did the right thing getting rid of the Gallos,” he says.

“But?” I snap since there is clearly one.

“It looks like Orlando was purposefully waiting outside the city. He knew we were going to hit his cousins hard. He knew it’d leave a power vacuum.”

“He was waiting to take over, to bring more TNTandthis shit?”

“Looks like it,” Enzo says.

“Let me see this motherfucker,” I snarl.

Vito hands me another piece of paper. There are two images on it. One shows a grainy silhouette. I can spot a glint of silver in his mouth and a sleek Mafiosi-style suit. The other image is a mugshot of the same man, his eyes looking psychopath-blank.

“He’s got to go,” I grunt.

“Agreed,” Vito growls.

“Any luck in the ’burbs?” I ask.

“He wasn’t where the junkie said he would be,” Vito replies.

“Shock,” Enzo says sarcastically with a heavy sigh.

“How did you find these kids?”

“A contact at the dock. He noticed two of his colleagues meeting with the Gallos.”

“Bring those colleagues to me. Now.”

Vito gives Enzo a look. “Told you.” He walks toward the door.

I raise my eyebrow at Enzo when Vito leaves the room. “He said he knew you’d want to see them.”

“You didn’t think I would?” I ask.

“They’re just working men who were too scared to say no.”

He sounds like my brother, dammit. “Where does the responsibility start then, Enzo?” I growl. “These men knew there were kids in those containers. They knew what they were doing.”

“Gallo had men watchingtheirkids,” Enzo counters.

“So I’ll ask you again … Who thefucktakes responsibility?”

Before he can reply, Vito kicks the door open, dragging two men behind him. One is pushing sixty, with pronounced gray hairs sticking out of his nose. The other is almost entirely red-faced, eyes glassy with terror as Vito drags them over to the table and shoves them into chairs.

I rest my fists on the table, leaning over the men. “Explain.”

The older man takes a deep breath, almost like he’s rehearsed this. When he speaks, I feel sick right down to my core. “I never wanted to be part of this. They threatened my family and said they’d hurt them if I didn’t help. I was terrified for their safety. I knew it was wrong, and every time I thought about those kids, it made me sick. I’m deeply sorry for what I’ve done. I never meant to hurt anyone, especially children. I was only trying to keep my family safe. I made a terrible choice. I’m asking for your understanding, and I’m willing to face the consequences of my actions.”

I shake my head slowly. “What is it you think you’ve done?” I growl. “Because you sound like you’ve written an apology for leaving a job early or missing a payment on a goddamn credit card, motherfucker.”

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