Page 32 of Don't Let Go

She nodded, tossing her napkin onto her plate. “I’d like that, Ty. We can go to all the tourist shops and make fun of all the crappy souvenirs tourists buy. Who doesn’t want a snake’s fang in a glass vile or a dead scorpion paperweight?”

A smile cracked my lips. “Or chocolate-covered crickets.”

Iris got to her feet and offered me her hand. I dropped some money onto the table for the bill and took her hand.

I had already lost my father, my high school, and my team. I didn’t want to lose Iris as well. We needed to reconnect. After spending a couple of hours together, it would feel like no time had come between us. At least, that’s what I told myself as we walked out of that pizzeria and down the sidewalk together.

16

Aurora

Mamma kissed the crown of my head before we walked into the warehouse where the meeting took place. Once inside, we split ways. She wandered over to Cindi, Chloe’s mother, and I headed for Chloe over by the drink table when Paolo intervened.

“I heard about your last-minute assignment with your mamma. Was the scene extra bloody?” Paolo had this mischievous grin glued to his face. If I didn’t know any better, Paolo strived to be a future Dexter or BTK killer.

“Just a dead girl in a pool. Nothing too crazy.”

“She topless?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Lord, why did he have to be so charming in the beginning? Why is this my life now?

“No. She wasn’t,” I said sharply.

“I’m teasing ya.” He hit my arm, laughing. “Let’s go grab our seats. It’s about to begin.”

Paolo linked his arm with mine and dragged me deeper into the warehouse. I hadn’t had a moment to take everything in since Paolo stole my entire line of sight once I stepped inside. The place looked nice, almost like an AA meeting if they held them on the down low. There were about thirty chairs lined in perfect rows of five facing a wooden podium. In the back was a table with drinks and finger foods.

If Paolo was still a gentleman, maybe he would’ve asked if I cared for anything before dragging me to my seat.

To my dismay, we walked around the chairs and sat in the middle of the front row.

Why do we have to sit in the front for this meeting?My heart leaped into my throat, my stomach dropped to my feet, and my hands were slippery from sweating.

Paolo released my arm when two men in white suits stood in our path. They both had similar features: dark, short hair slicked back, clean-shaven faces with sharp chins, and the kind of build and height that had intimidation written all over it. These were the guys who worked at the secret clubs that dealt in all kinds of illegal activities. One hard look from them, and you knew they wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull. These kinds of guys shot first and never asked questions later.

The two, I assumed assassins, fist-bumped Paolo. “Hey, cuz. It’s been a while. How are you?” The guy on the left asked. He had a spider tattoo on his neck, and he kept eyeing me.

Paolo flashed a sinister grin. “Sono fantastico.” He nudged my shoulder, “This is my girl, Aurora. Aurora, these are my cousins from Italy.” He pointed to the cousin who just spoke. “This is Vincenzo.” Paolo then motioned toward the more silent of the two, who had on a wife-beater tee showing off his chesttattoo with a sword in a skull with the words “morte prima del disonore” scrolled above. “This is Marcos.”

Italy? Why is family from Italy here? Had something gone wrong within the organization, or were they here for a surprise visit?

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing myself to smile pretty.

They nodded. Vincenzo was about to speak again when an older gentleman pounded a gavel on the podium. “Everyone, sit. We need to get this meeting started.”

The two cousins sat in the front row next to Paolo and I sat on the end. Paolo held my hand on his lap. If I didn’t know any better, he was using me as some kind of trophy.

People found their way to their seats and quieted down so the meeting could finally begin. The man at the podium was the right-hand man of the mob boss, Mr. Dickson. His first name was a mystery to most people. His black hair was highlighted with silver, and his face had some whiskers from missing a few days of shaving. His dark eyes roamed the room before briefly stopping on me. My heart stopped for a few seconds.

“As you may remember, we played a part in securing James Winston’s senate seat. He may not have agreed on everything we wanted or accepted our money for his upcoming grab at the presidency, but he was still important to our organization. Unfortunately, he died recently, and it was no accident. The man wasn’t a big seafood fan. Therefore, dying by consuming blowfish is an outrageous cause of death.”

My blood ran cold.It wasn’t a mistake by whoever prepared the fish? Was the senator murdered?I squeezed Paolo’s hand too tightly, making him wince and hiss in pain for me to stop.

At least I got my hand back. I dug my nails into my thighs as Mr. Dickson continued.

“Senator Winston was set up. Many of you knew his late wife, Sarah, was with the family. She was loyal and made the best homemade chocolate chip cookies.”

A few people in the audience mumbled in agreement.

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