Page 40 of The Mobster's Nanny

The answer comes to me with a wave of terror. Shit. Is she going to get her revenge now? No, no, it can’t be—but it’s the only explanation I have. Liss is not one to give up on her goal, and if revenge has been keeping her going for years now, she wouldn’t let it go so easily.

Fuck! I close my eyes, trying to figure out what to do. God, she can’t do it on her own, I—I can’t let her do it. I can’t let her do something so dangerous. I can’t let them take someone else from me. So I rub my face, clench my jaw, and move to the laptop with my heart pounding in my chest.

Track her movements.

I have to know where she’s going.

Chapter 14 - Liss

Is there a way to fix everything?

I sit on the edge of the sofa, leaning on my knees and staring at the wall in front of me. I don't know how much time I've spent here over the last few days, but sometimes it feels like an eternity. The thoughts in my head go around in circles, and I can't find a way to stop them.

I have to do something—but what can I do? I rub my face, feeling my eyes sting from exhaustion, and lean back on the sofa. God, I wish someone would tell me how to make things right.

The middle of my chest is empty and aching, and as soon as I close my eyes I see Matteo’s cold gaze and hear his low voice telling me goodbye. Will I ever get to see him again? Will he ever be able to trust me? The thought makes the pain in my heart flare up, and I grimace and place my palm on my chest as if it would help me to calm it down.

No, I can’t think about Matteo and Romeo right now, it’s too much, it’s too painful. I have to accept it—when I lost both of them, I lost everything. The only thing left for me is to follow my own path and seek revenge for Hank, no matter how dark or dangerous the end of this path may be.

As if in response to my thoughts, I hear my phone buzz with a new message, and I hurry to pick it up. Deep down in my heart, I still hope that Matteo might reach out and forgive me—but no, it’s just another message from Giovanni, and I tighten my grip on the phone as I read it. That bastard still thinks he can get something out of me, huh?

Update the situation.

I need more information on the Messinas.

Just look at that! They’re so eager to use me. I purse my lips, feeling the heat of anger growing inside of me. How could I be so blind? I can’t believe I trusted them so easily! But now, all of my own naivety comes back to me, fueling the resentment in my chest. I have to get back at them, I have to make these bastards pay for everything.

But how? With a sudden rush of agitation, I rise to my feet and start pacing around the living room, blankly staring under my feet. I’ve been thinking about it, yes, I’ve been thinking about going after the Escarra family. Of course, I can’t wipe them out, and I doubt I’ll be able to find the exact person who killed my brother before the Mexicans figure out what I’m doing. But I can strike a blow where they don’t expect it and do as much damage as I can.

They still trust me, and this time I’ll be the one using that to my advantage.

It takes me another couple of minutes to put my thoughts in order and figure out my plan of action before I pause in my pacing and unlock my phone.

I have something important, but I can’t send it over the phone.

Can we meet now?

Is it too rushed? Too obvious? I chew my lip, reading the messages all over again, when I see the bubble indicating that Giovanni is typing a response.

The park is dangerous.

There’s an old industrial station at Bedford Park. Meet me there.

When? He doesn’t specify and only sends a location a second later before deleting all messages as soon as I click the link. Does that mean I should get there right now? The place is some twenty minutes away, so I have a moment to gather myself and fetch the only thing I need right now.

I go to my bedroom, kneel on the floor next to my bed, and reach for an old, dusty box pushed far to the wall. By the time I crawl from under the bed, my arms are covered in dust and cobweb, but I barely pay attention to it. My mind has finally found something to focus on, and I can’t let myself get distracted again. I have to calmly follow each step till the end.

The first thing I see when I open the box is a dark, baggy hoodie withIllinoiswritten on the chest in big old-fashioned letters. Hank used to wear it at home; apparently, he’d gotten it from Dad. The memory pinches something in my chest, but I don’t let my thoughts go down that lane and force myself to get the hoodie out of the way.

Beneath it, there are countless reminders and memories from my childhood. Photos from my old polaroid, my favorite children’s books, an MP3 player, a pack of cigarettes that Hank never finished—all of these are treasures calling me from the past, but I dig through them without much thought. I have something specific in mind, and when I finally catch sight of an old and rusty coffee can, my heart picks up its pace.

The can is heavy when I pick it up, something shifting inside from the movement, and I pause for a moment before flicking it open. Hank’s pistol is still inside, glinting in the daylight coming from the window, and it’s weird to realize how different my reaction is compared to what I felt when I was a teenager. Hank used to carry it whenever he was going out of the house, and I’d feel intimidated just from one glance at it. Now, I feel nothing. Well, almost nothing.

Everything in my chest tightens in anticipation when I get the pistol in my hand, but weirdly enough, I don’t feel nervous or scared. It’s as if I locked all my feelings deep inside my heart to cool down my mind and let it guide me forward. As the practice shows, it’s the only way to get things done.

I leave the apartment a few minutes later, in my baggy t-shirt and with barely any makeup on. I couldn’t care less about how I look right now. My eyes are mindlessly fixed on the carpeted floor of the elevator, and the pistol is safely tucked in my backpack. Will I have a chance to come back home? Will the Mexicans let me escape? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter anymore.

The elevator rings, opening the doors to the parking lot, and I tighten my fists and go to my car.

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