Page 44 of Ruthless Consequences

“This is where Shadow Man comes in.” She held up a hand. “I know. I know. But that’s who he is.”

“You’ve got to stop this. You’ve got to stop calling him when shit hits the fan. He’s not your brother.”

“He’s always acted like it.”

“How about this?” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “How about you get a real journalist job at a real newspaper. You can still hunt down criminals. But you don’t have to cater totheirfucking newspaper!”

“Forget what I said about Rill,” she said. “Forget me calling Lilo. I finally have something, Luci.”

“What?” I opened my eyes.

She was smiling like she’d just won the lottery. Her eyes glistened. “Did you hear me? I finally have something real to connect me tothem.”

She looked around, like maybe someone had overheard her. Or it was totally possible that someone was looking for her—they always were—and she wanted to spot them first. But she was never jumpy. Which concerned me. She thrived on danger. Was obsessed with it.

“An anonymous call came into Vice this morning. They put him through to me. Said he would only speak to me. It was a guy, I think. Hard to tell. Definitely French. Told me he had info on the Fausti family that plenty of people would pay top dollar for. He demanded that I print it in the paper, with an article on how rich the Fausti family was.”

“Why is that a lead? Everyone knows they’re rich. Beyond rich.”

“True.” She took a sip of her drink as if she wanted to draw out the moment. “But…what they don’t know is where all of their properties are.”

“They hide them?”

She gave me a look that meantduhbut was more mature. “They don’t hide them, exactly, but they’re not listed. A few of them have been confirmed, but not the real private ones. The ones they use on a regular basis.”

“This guy—or girl—knows for sure?”

She nodded quickly. “My gut is telling me to trust this. He gave me a list of their places, which, of course, I wrote down. Even though I don’t think I could forget. Then he told me something no one else would know.”

“Stop,” I said, suddenly feeling the salad turn into a green-leaf monster in my stomach. The Italian dressing felt like it was coagulating in my throat. “Don’t do this, Ava.”

“Luci,” she said, reaching across the table, taking my hand. “Stop worrying so much. You’re getting premature wrinkles.”

“Stop messin’ around,” I said.

I always figured her dream of getting close to the Faustis was just that…a dream that would never come true. They were so inaccessible. It was like hunting down criminal royalty and putting them behind bars. But no cage would ever be strong enough to hold them back. I had a bad feeling about this. I had a feeling she was close.

“You don’t even want to know what he told me?”

“If it means something will happen—”

“It doesn’t,” she said, letting my hand go. She was a bit aggravated. Maybe because I wasn’t jumping up and down in my seat, fist bumping the air for her. “The source told me Brando and Scarlett Fausti are spending time in Florence. At Luca Fausti’s estate there. And I think I know what that means.” She looked around before she mouthed to me, “He’s getting out.”

What that meant, exactly? I wasn’t sure. But I knew this for certain. Luca Fausti was the most dangerous of all. And she looked…thrilled about it. Like she wanted to scream it from the rooftops. She finished her last bite of pizza and her last drop of Coke while I stared at her.

She checked her watch. “Gotta run.” She stood, ready to rush off, but remembered the massive weight attached to her wrist with a strap. “Shit. Mooch!”

He looked up at her, like,Got a problem? If so, not mine. Unless it involves more chicken.

“Go,” I said, waving a hand. “I’ll take him back.”

There was no stopping her. I’d learned that long ago. I only hoped the message I received years ago was still holding strong.

Ava was the reason I started going to church. Her obsession with the Fausti family, and dangerous men in general, had gotten so bad at one point I stopped sleeping. Especially after what happened in Little Odessa. Which was why Molly had suggested I go to church with her.

The month before, I’d had a dream about my sister.

I dreamt that it was cold. I felt the bitter chill on my skin. I was in our house, in our room. My sister was lying on the floor. Her face was partially covered by a hoodie. Sitting next to her was a boy. He was wearing a hoodie, too, and he was staring up at the posters on her wall. I couldn’t tell if he was there to protect her or something else.

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