“Killing a man will do that to you.” I draw the blanket up over her narrow shoulders and lean close to her ear, combing her hair back with my fingers. “I’m going to find out, Dandelion.”

No response. Utter stillness in fact. She’s holding her breath. What will happen when I leave this room? Will she break down and sob? Maybe. But I know one thing. It won’t be remorse for what she did to that man. Our dandelion is dark. And I will uncover what made her that. Who made her that.

7

AMADEO

“You all right?” Bastian asks as we pull out of the gates and head toward Positano, where Sonny visits one of his regular whores. She’s apparently become such a favorite that he bought the house for her. She must be a hell of a fuck. Although she is all of eighteen while he’s in his late fifties.

When I glance at Bastian, I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and notice how the line between my eyebrows has deepened. I merge into traffic, two more SUVs following ours. Jarno has men stationed nearer the woman’s house as well.

“I’ll be fine. It’s fucked up, that’s all.”

“No shit.”

“Bruno arranged a meeting with Tilbury while we’re in New York by the way.”

“How did he do that?”

“Told the doctor our sister was in need of his services.” I know at the mention of sister, Bastian thinks of Hannah. I wonder what he remembers of her. It’s strange how memories fade. How the faces of the dead fade.

“You think it’ll explain what happened in the barn?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe. Give us a clue at least.”

“I don’t think even she has a clue.”

“It’s the missing year. I know it in my gut.”

We arrive at the woman’s house an hour and a half later. It’s a small cottage outside of town that Sonny gifted her. It’s nice with access to the water. No gates here. When our entourage parks along the edges of the steep, narrow road leading to the entrance, Sonny’s two soldiers who stand casually at the front doors straighten, alerted. One disappears inside. He’ll announce our arrival. I’m surprised there aren’t more. Sonny usually travels with an entourage like he’s the fucking king.

Bastian and I climb out of the SUV with our soldiers, who fan out around the property. I don’t expect Sonny to make a run for it, but it’s time to put him in his place.

Bastian and I head toward the front entrance. The man standing as the lone sentry looks at us, then at the men behind us. He hesitates, unsure whether or not to block our entrance or draw his weapon.

“Don’t,” I tell him. He’s outnumbered, and he’s not completely stupid.