I thought Vitelli was behind Natalie’s kidnapping. Either the old man or his sons. But it’s not them. Too fucking obvious and they’re not that stupid. The DeMarco family? They’ve essentially been castrated. Lucia DeMarco’s father being made to watch what he watched, as sick as it was, it was effective. So who the fuck else would dare?

My father was outraged. Roman immediately started to list names. Make calls. But it’s fucking killing me not to know. Not to wrap my hands around the throat of whoever ordered her kidnapping. To squeeze. To watch him gasp his last breath when I choke the life out of him with my bare hands.

I’m parked in my usual space at the garage and see Ricco sitting in the café at the end of her street. He can see her house and keep warm—weather’s been icy this last week. I give him a nod as I walk past. The house is dark but for her bedroom window. I knock and slide my key in at the same time. She’s been avoiding me but that’s changing tonight. I want her to move into my house. I don’t want her here on her own anymore. And I need to get her to talk about what happened. To tell it to me so she can get rid of it. So she can stop seeing it because I know she does every time she closes her eyes. She has to tell it to me so she can stop being afraid.

The TV’s on upstairs. Not even Pepper comes to me, which is strange. But maybe she’s upstairs with Natalie. I take off my coat and head up.

I call out. When she doesn’t answer, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. But when I get to her bedroom, it’s empty. Her bed is unmade but that’s not unusual for her. The TV’s on, but she’s not here. I switch it off and the house is plunged into utter silence.

“Nat?” I call out, taking my cell phone from my pocket and dialing her number as I peek into the other bedroom.

I hear her phone ring nearby and red flags go up.

The sound is from back in her bedroom and it’s on the nightstand, a book lying face down on top of it.

“Fuck!”

I disconnect and call Ricco. Tell him to get his ass over here now. I walk into the bathroom, see her makeup on the counter, the tube of mascara still open lying in the sink like she just walked away in the middle of putting some on. That’s when I notice the box in the trash can.

“Boss,” Ricco’s boots are heavy on the stairs.