Page 15 of Curse

Shit. “He had the blueprints for One Pearl Park on him when the plane crashed. They’re in someone else’s hands now.”

The chewing stops. “God damn it.” Vin’s voice drops, laced with tension. If this gets back to Aurelio, Vin’s the one who’ll take the heat for Mikey’s mistakes, even posthumous ones. “Who’s got it?”

I ignore his question. “Why the hell would Mikey put those blueprints on the same flash drive as evidence to incriminate Aurelio? Was he trying to set us up? And would the blueprints give away any info we’d rather not be common knowledge?” My mind races, imagining Siena poring over the plans, trying to piece it all together.

Vin exhales sharply. “Depends on who’s got it. If it’s one of our guys, they’ll probably bring it to us. If it’s the MacCuinn Clan…” He trails off, and I can almost see him rubbing his hand over his face. “Could go either way. They might try to take the job out from under us, use it as leverage, or want to work together. You never know with those Irish bastards.”

The MacCuinns have proven useful in the past, but we don’t always see eye to eye. More specifically, their boss doesn’t see eye to eye with Aurelio, but the rest of us try to keep any disagreements from getting out of hand.

Of course, it’s not the MacCuinns who have the flash drive. But I debate for a moment the value in letting Vin believe it could be possible before dismissing it. Too risky. I want to protect Siena and keep her name out of it—especially her last name—but going to war with the MacCuinns won’t solve anything.

But if Vin knows she is related to Mikey much less Franco, Vin’s solution will be simple: kill her and tie up the loose end.

That’s not happening.

“She’s unrelated to the MacCuinn’s as far as I can tell. I’ll handle it before Aurelio hears anything.”

Vin’s voice hardens. “‘She?’ God damn it, it’s that bitch you told me about at the lake, isn’t it?”

I clench my jaw. He needs to stop fucking talking about her like that. “I’ll handle it,” I grit out.

“We’llhandle it, brother.” Vin stresses the ‘we,’ making it clear I won’t be shutting him out.

He’s family, like a brother without the blood, and he’s always got my back. But there’s more to his urgency. If Aurelio catches wind of this, Vin’s life is going to get a whole lot harder, and he’s intent on avoiding the fallout.

I don’t answer immediately, debating my next move. Should I head to Siena’s place or stake out One Pearl Park? It’s a long drive from New York to the crash site, and if she’s already calling Franco, she’s probably digging into Mikey and Emily’s deaths with both hands. And I doubt she’s the type to wait.

“You got time to stake out the Pearl Park job?” I ask.

“On my way.” Vin’s tone is sharp, and it sets my teeth on edge. He’s ready to protect the family by any means necessary, and I know what that means for Siena if she’s standing in his way.

And no one is touching her on my watch.

If her behavior at the lake over Emily’s scarf is any indication, Siena’s not going to give up the flash drive easily. I’m going to have to take it from her—me. Not Vin.

If she doesn’t have it, I’ll have some of my guys put a tracker on her car so that she takes me to it.

For a brief moment, I think about what else I’d like to take from her, but push it out of my mind. Now is not the time to get distracted.

But I can’t deny that the prospect of seeing her again has my exhaustion evaporating.

9

Siena

It takes longer than expected to reach One Pearl Park Plaza. Rush hour grips the city in chaos—crowds surging across crosswalks, horns blaring, cars crawling forward in an endless gridlock.

At first, I curse the stop-and-go traffic, but as I pull up to the building, a cold realization settles in: I don’t know even what I’m looking for.

The blueprints focus on the building’s interior, but which part? And why?

Seeing Pearl Parking Garage across the street, I turn in and find a spot on the fourth floor.

While waiting for the elevator, I pause at the opening in the structure, staring at the building.

One Pearl Park Plaza looms over me, at least thirty stories tall, its old beige-brown bricks stretching upward, topped with rows of mirrored windows. At the entrance of the building, the lobby windows tower three stories high, gleaming in the fading daylight.

I remember when they renovated those windows when Iwas a kid. Dad took Emily, Franco, and me to a restaurant in the lobby to celebrate the reopening.

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