Page 45 of As Angels Sin

You’ll have to forgive me, Si-Si. Momma needs her beauty sleep.

I wake up when a bump in the road rattles Simone’s car so violently, I wouldn’t be surprised if she told me, we were experiencing an earthquake. And then, as I stare through the windshield, I notice it isn’t a road at all. It’s a dirt path, better suited to dirt and mountain bikes. Certainly not made for a Toyota Rav4. Dense overgrowth and tall trees tower over us in all directions.

“We’re nearly there,” she says, navigating the treacherous trail.

“Where’sthereexactly?” I ask.

Simone smirks, opting to let the sight unfold instead of telling me.

We break out from the dense tree cover into a clearing, and as we move further into it, toward a small wooden structure in the distance, I notice it isn’t much of a clearing at all. The cabin is surrounded by water on all sides. No lights show around it and there are none in the distance, either.

We are completely isolated from the world, and it’s the perfect place to wait while we hide out.

We get out of the car to the sound of nightlife chittering loudly around us. Crickets chirp below, and big-winged beetles fly soclose to my head I can feel the wind from their wings. In the distance, owls hoot from the trees.

“Oh my God,” I say, as I approach the log cabin.

“Do you hate it?” Simone sounds apprehensive.

“Not at all! It’s perfect. More than perfect.”

I hug her. The action is all I have left in me to express my appreciation for her help. She returns it with a gentle kiss atop my brow.

Chapter Twenty-One

CRUE

Every organization, both in the corporate world and this dark one I dwell in, descends into disarray after a change of management. New leaders, with their radical ideas on how to make an operation run smoother, create tension. I wonder if that’s why the place has been so empty, lately. There are still Napoli men here and there, but nowhere near as many as before.

I wonder if Tomas’s coup d’état scared the others off, or if they’re sharing some mass grave in the middle of nowhere.

But the chaos also opens up many windows of opportunity. Tomas is short-staffed, on the verge of a mental breakdown, and trying to find reason in the lies Matteo told him. He is primed for a pruning.

Tomas sits upon his empty throne as I walk into the office; a surface-value king wearing a crown of shit. Matteo’s in front of him this time, his ass planted on the edge of the desk, his hands resting over a single knee. He is judge and jury, and his verdict and sentence are already flickering in his eyes.

Mark is standing by the display cabinet, hands clasped in front of his groin, very elegant, very military — an executioner sharpening the ax that is his mind.

“This is fucking biblical.” Cool, calm confidence carries my words over the silence. “Very scary. Very intimidating.”

“Don’t be cute, Crue. This is serious.” The executioner extends a threat.

“Okay then. You know what I’m going to ask, so why don’t we cut to the chase.” I glance over at Matteo.

“Fiametta has gone missing. Do you have any idea what may have happened to her?” The judge demands his answer.

“Why would I?”

Of course, I know where she is. She and Simone were rather obvious in their escape. I watched her window at first, until the pair decided it was time to leave through it. Then, I watched from the trees as they navigated my old route through the garden, and over the fence in a distant corner that hasn’t seen any love in decades.

The devious little minx must have stalked me somewhere along the way.

A truly thrilling thought.

“Where the fuck is she?” Tomas belts out at the top of his lungs.

“Who?” I face the balding bastard. No more staring contests with Matteo. It’s a stalemate, and I’m sure we both agree on that.

“Crue, I’m going to shoot you. In the fucking face. Enough dicking around,” Matteo says. I notice no change in tone from his previous question, as well as no flaring nostrils or bulgingeyes. He is not threatening or aggressive, he speaks matter-of-factly. To the point.

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