Page 63 of Nanny for the Don

Sal pulls out his phone, but curses under his breath. “No bars.”

“Yeah, reception’s generally shitty in this place.”

"I’ll take care of it outside," he says, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

I watch him go, the tension in my chest tightening. Alone in the hallway, I let the silence settle for a moment, my mind already racing with the next move.

Jack’s still out there—and when I find him, I’ll end him. Letting him out of my sight won’t be a mistake I make twice.

Once I’m alone, the rage takes over. I slam my fist into the wall, the crack echoing through the hallway. The plaster splits, pain shooting up my hand, but I don’t care.

I take a slow, deep breath, trying to calm myself.Focus. Losing control now won’t help anything.

What if they don’t find him?

I shake the thought off. There’s no use worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. We’re going to find him. And when we do, he’ll wish I’d killed him the first time he was in my basement.

With my anger under control, I head back into the room.I stand over the Rossi stooge, my expression cold and hard.

“Here’s the deal,” I begin. “Whether or not you live or die depends on one thing—whether the information you gave me about Jack turns out to be true.”

His eyes widen even more, and I can see him calculating his chances. He knows his life is hanging by a thread, and I’m the one holding the scissors.

I lean in closer, my voice cold and deliberate. ““Here’s how it’s gonna go, prick. If your information checks out, you’ll make it out of this alive. Hell, I’ll even pay for your flight out of town so you can run from the Rossis. But if you’re bullshitting me…” I trail off, letting the threat hang heavy in the air.

His eyes dart around, frantic. “I’m not! I swear I’m not lying! It’s the truth!”

“We’ll find out. ,” I say, my tone sharp. “One way or another.”

I glance at the guards in the room and nod toward them. “Until then, you’re staying right here with your new friends. They’ll either be your executioners or your oh-so-charming escorts out of the city. The choice is yours.”

His face pales even more, sweat dripping down his forehead. I can see him panicking, trying to figure out if there’s any way to talk himself out of this.

“If you’ve got anything else to tell me about Jack,” I say, “now’s the time.”

He swallows hard, panic all over his face, then blurts out, “Jack’s got a place in the Bronx. Hunts Point, near Spofford and Manida Street. Three-story building with blue trim. That’s where the Rossis meet him.”

“Rough part of town.” I narrow my eyes. “They meet him there?”

The man nods quickly, desperate. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard them talk about it.”

I stand up straight, letting the silence stretch for a moment before turning to leave.This better be true.

I step out of the room, tossing a quick command over my shoulder to the men. "Wait for my call. Don’t do anything until I give the word."

As I make my way down the hallway, something tugs at the back of my mind. I haven’t checked my phone in hours. It’s been sitting dead in my pocket, no reception in this godforsaken warehouse. I pull it out and glance at the screen—still no bars.I curse under my breath and push open the door, stepping outside. The cold air hits me immediately, biting at my skin, butI barely notice.

Off in the distance, I see Sal on his phone, pacing back and forth. The sky above is thick with gray clouds, heavy and ready to dump more snow. There’s a tension in the air, something ominous. It’s not just the weather, either.

As I move away from the building, reception starts to creep back. My phone lights up with missed calls, a flood of notifications filling the screen. Ms. M. Texts, voicemails—dozens of them.

A strange feeling washes over me.Something’s wrong. My instincts scream it loud and clear. All I can think about is home—the girls, Willow. Those domestic feelings, ones I haven’t felt in years, rush back hard and fast. I should be with them.

I don’t bother sifting through the texts or voicemails. My gut's already twisted tight. I hit call on Ms. M’s number, and she picks up on the first ring.

"Nico," she says, her voice tense. "It's Willow. She’s missing."

I hear a younger voice in the background, and then someone takes the phone. “Nico? This is Kendall, Willow’s cousin,” she says quickly, her words rushing out. “I was with her at the park.”

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