Page 38 of Dangerous Rhythm

“Oh, I will enjoy this,” Curtis grinned appreciatively at the older Catalan man.

The aroma was as intoxicating as talking to Lina, and Curtis’ stomach rumbled with anticipation. He let Lina dish some of thecreamy rice onto her plate first while he stole a langoustine off the pan with his fingers.

Lina eyed him as he unabashedly sucked the sweetness out of the crustacean shell and smiled.

“What?” he questioned.

“Nothing. You eat with gusto,” she said. “I love it.”

Curtis flashed her a smile. “I eat everything with gusto, sweetheart. Maybe one day you’ll let me demonstrate.” He winked at her.

Her jaw dropped to the table this time. Speechless for a full five seconds, she finally muttered, “You’re like a walking lawsuit.”

“Uh-uh.” Curtis turned serious. “I don’t do anything to anyone unless they ask me to. Or, maybe, in your case, order me to.”

Lina looked to the ceiling. “Okay. You just eat!”

Curtis smiled innocently at her. And this time, she turned even redder.

“The paella, Curtis. The paella.”

“Whatever you say, Lina.”

sixteen

Brooklyn, New York

Loud rock music blared in the small, dark room full of humming machines and monitors. A skinny young man sat hunched in front of the biggest monitor, moving his cursor from one open page to another.

Everything’s doing its thing. If he’s out there, my babies will find him.

The man turned to a different computer and monitor and checked his search for the other projects Tony Jr. had told him to focus on. He rolled his eyes as he did his work.

Who the hell is in charge? Is it the Donna or the son? Who the fuck knows?

It didn’t matter. He could keep them both happy as long as he kept finding them the information they needed. Who knew a computer geek like him would be essential to the Stilettos’ enterprises, huh? Planting a mole, bribing cops and officials had their purposes, but with him sneaking in through crevices in the web and passing through firewalls, it gave the Stilettos a leg up on the competition.

A pop-up window came up flashing on the monitor he had the musician search on. He quickly swiveled in his chair and rolled back to check what his babies had found. He clicked on the link. A picture from a social media page came up.

He squinted at the dim, poor-quality picture and hesitated. Why would his facial recognition software flag the unclear side profile of this man? He could barely make the guy out. He ran the picture through his software again.

He read the random person’s caption, “Is this who I think it is? Can’t really tell. Anyone?”

The man used one of his alias profiles and replied to the original poster, “Who do you think it is?”

Not long after, a reply came through. “Curtis Bisset from Canis Major. I’m a big fan, but might not be him.”

A burst of adrenaline filled his bloodstream. The man typed, “When/where was this?”

“Last night. Barcelona.”

The software flashed its result and confirmed with a seventy-point-six-percent accuracy.

He pushed off from the table and rolled to the other side of the room. He picked up his phone and dialed.

The call was answered after two rings.

“Donna. I think I found him.”

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