Page 131 of Wicked Rivals

I kneeled to help move the files they discarded out of the way. My son and the guard knew Luka’s face, but I didn’t have any idea what the son of a bitch looked like.

With each discarded file, tension gained strength in my gut. It squeezed my lungs, forced my heart to beat harder and faster.

Enzo’s mouth suddenly popped open wide, and he stared inside the file in his hands.

“Here it is! This is him! It’s Mr. Luka’s face, but it says his name is Donnie Cozza.”

I froze hearing the name.

The Cozza family once worked for the Capaldos.

I snatched the file and jumped to my feet. The face of the walking dead man who’d taken what belonged to me stared out from the photo. Then I grabbed my phone, snapped a picture, and sent it to Bruce with orders to pull every spec of information on Donnie Cozza and any living family members.

“How often are these files updated?” I demanded.

The guard looked up at me as he wiped sweat off his face.

“Mine’s done every year,” he murmured.

I tucked the file under my arm.

“Get the fuck up.”

He complied as fast as his clumsy, trembling body let him. He stood directly before me with his gaze on the floor.

“Look at me,” I said. “I understand keeping your position means you’ll have to inform the police that my son and I were here. You’ll call it in right after we leave. Correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before we go, you’re going to erase all security footage with the two of us.”

I gestured toward Enzo, then to myself.

“Yes, sir,” the man repeated, nodding this time.

“And Enzo’s mother with the piece-of-shit teacher who shot her. That’s the only way you get out of here alive. Have I made myself clear?”

Again, the guard nodded, then he ran to his workstation.

Enzo and I followed and stood behind his chair. Then my son tugged on my arm.

“Why are we still here?” he asked. “We have the address. Why aren't we going to get her?”

“We have an address, son, but we can’t be sure if it’s the right one. If his name was a cover, the other details might also be fake. My men are running his real name to get the correct information.

“We're letting the men do their jobs, so when we leave, we know we’re going to the right place. I don't want to waste time driving around the city. Do you?”

Enzo shook his head. His eyes were now half blue, half black and glossy with unshed tears.

I squeezed his shoulder, wishing I knew more about how to comfort him.

“It's done,” the guard announced.

“What’s done?” I asked, to be clear.

“I erased every file from four o’clock on. It’s all gone. And the cameras are off right now. See? The screens are dark.”

“Good,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

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