Page 58 of Bastard Prince
“Lancaster?”
“Enzo, I hope I didn’t wake you.” He said briskly, all business. “I have that information you were looking for, and I wanted to loop you in right away.”
“Good,” I answered. Francesca looked at me quizzically, but I just shook my head. “What did you find out?”
“What I found is that you better check your sources. There is no hit out on anyone by the name of Francesca De Marco.” Francesca let out a gasp, but I couldn’t look away from the screen, staring at it as if it would give me the answers. “Nothing on a Francesca Argenti either.”
“What the hell do you mean, there is no hit?”
“Exactly that. My contact at the FBI checked all the databases, every place they store and catalog chatter. No one is even whispering about her, or any De Marco for that matter, besides the usual stuff they’re stocking away for RICO cases.”
Francesca rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“But there have been attempts on her life,” I stated plainly. “Several.”
“I don’t doubt you, man. But I’m telling you, there is nothing in the wind. Whoever is after your girl, they’re arranging it on the down low.” He lowered his voice. “Someone is trying to throw you off the trail, my man. This whole thing stinks of a rat. Keep your eyes open and your woman close.”
I clenched my hands on the steering wheel, the leather creaking quietly under my grip.
Fucking Eric. He’d lied to us. That fucker stood in our goddamn house and lied to us.
I thought back to that morning, to the desperation on Eric’s face as he pleaded with Francesca, begged her not to go back to New York. Was it all part of his plan to get her to stay in Las Vegas? Was he the one trying to harm my wife?
I struggled to believe it; the man had seemed genuinely concerned for her, his words without any hint of deceit.
So, then, what the fuck was going on?
“Thanks, Gideon,” I said, my thoughts racing. “I appreciate it.”
“I didn’t do it for free, Enzo,” he replied with a low chuckle. “You better believe I’ll be calling in that favor.”
“I have no doubt you will. Later.”
I disconnected the call and turned to Francesca.
“You got any idea what the hell is happening?”
“Nope.” She let out a big breath, leaning back in her seat. “And I don’t want to think about it until I have had at least six hours sleep.” And with that, she closed her eyes, essentially ending the conversation.
Traffic was light, most of it heading into the city where people would soon be starting their workday, so the road leading out of town was practically vacant. It wasn’t a long drive, but I found myself going slower than I normally would, just enjoying the quiet of the car and Francesca dozing in the passenger seat, my hand resting comfortably on her thigh.
As we left the city proper and entered the dark stretch of road that led to the Lake Las Vegas community gates, I could see the sky ahead of me lightening, the first faint indication of the coming day beginning to show over the low hills, chasing the stars away.
I was so damn lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice the pair of headlights behind us until they were practically on our ass. Frowning, I hit my signal light, moving into the right lane to let them pass, but they immediately followed me over. I could tell it was a taller vehicle than my own—not hard, considering the low profile of the Audi—but other than that, I was completely blind, the lights so bright they were all I could see.
Moving back into the left lane, I sped up, pressing the accelerator down hard, feeling the drag of inertia as the car responded quickly. Francesca stirred in her seat, looking around and blinking owlishly.
“Enzo?” she asked, her voice heavy. “What’s happening?”
“Not sure, babe,” I muttered distractedly, my focus split between the road ahead and the lights behind. “But hang the fuck on.”
With that, I slammed down on the accelerator, shifting through the gears easily as the engine roared. I could see Francesca out of the corner of my eye, gripping the door tightly, but I didn’t dare look. The road was flat, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. Clark County was not exactly known for its well-maintained, pothole-free roadways. The last thing I needed was to blow out a tire at high speed and wreck the car with us in side.
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.
I eased off the gas, slowing down enough so that the lights were back at a decent distance behind us. As we crested a small hill, I looked ahead and could see the lighted stone walls announcing the entrance to Lake Las Vegas, the cluster of palm trees doused in a warm yellow glow, making the double wide road appear inviting.
“What are you doing?” Francesca asked through clenched teeth. She spun around in her seat, staring out the back window. “They’re gaining on us. You could easily lose them in this car, Enzo.”
