Page 9 of Curse

I glance at the plastic bags on the seat next to me. Pulling one up at a time, I examine them the best I can while driving. One contains Emily’s phone; another holds her favorite scarf, the one she wore 1000 ways, sometimes wrapping her hair, sometimes as an accent around her neck, one time tied to the strap of her oversized bag. “Just in case,” she had said when I asked her why.

A lump forms in my throat, choking me and blurring the lines on the road unwinding in front of me. I swallow hard and grit my teeth: “Whoever did this to you, Emily, I’ll find them, and I’ll make them fucking pay.”

6

Matti

From the front seat of my rented Lexus, I watch as men pull wreckage out of the lake. The sun is high in the sky, and the heat is building up, so I have the AC on full blast.

There’s a harsh glare coming through the windshield, and I shift my phone so I can get a better view of the screen. Texts are coming in nonstop from Vin.

In addition to being the boss’ son, Vin is a capo like me, and we’ve known each other our whole lives. His father, Aurelio, took me in when I was in middle school, gave me my own house on the Demonio estate when I turned 18. He and his younger brother, Tommy, are brothers in every sense of the word, my closest allies.

But right now, his texts feel like noise, static I don’t have time for as I watch men dredge the lake, excavating the plane and its contents piece by piece.

You find what you’re looking for?

Not yet. They’re not done pulling

everything out of the lake.

Just get proof. Shit is blowing up back here.

Need you in NYC sooner than later.

I shake my head and tap Vin’s name on the contact information, filling the car with the sound of his phone ringing. When he answers, he sounds run down and irritated.

“What’s going on up there?” I ask, watching as a new and larger boat pulls onto the lake.

“Aurelio’s on the warpath,” Vin grumbles. When he calls his father by his first name, it means trouble between them. I can’t remember the last time he didn’t call him by his first name. “This whole thing with Mikey has him on a fucking reign of terror. He’s fucking with everybody, throwing a fit about the dumbest shit.”

“All a big show, though, right? He doesn’t give a fuck about Mikey.”

“Not at all, but he has to make it seem like he cares or the rest of our men are going to get paranoid thinking that they aren’t protected with us.”

“What do you need?”

“I just need you to get back here because I don’t know what he’s going to do next. Everyone is on edge,” Vin says, his voice hard. “How’s it going down there? Find what we need?”

“Not yet. I’ve gone through all the wreckage they retrieved so far, but they’re not done pulling everything out of the lake,” I say, slowly. “But I did have an unexpected visitor.”

“What do you mean?”

I hesitate. Normally, I’d tell Vin everything, no holds barred.But in this situation, it seems prudent to give as few details as possible when it comes to Siena.

“Some woman showed up asking questions.”

“What do you mean? Like a local?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “I don’t think so.”

“Was she hot?” Vin has a one-track mind when it comes to women.

I ignore the question. “She grabbed a couple of evidence bags and cut out.”

My lips twitch at the memory of her stomping away, heels digging into the dirt like she owned the ground she walked on.

Did she think I’d chase her down, tackle her to the pavement? Not my style. Besides, the local cops didn’t even clock it. They’ve barely looked at me twice since I rolled in here and started barking orders. Sometimes, all it takes is a good suit and an air of authority.

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