Think, think, think.

Enzo said she didn’t have long. I need to figure out where she is and do it fast.

“He said she was shivering so bad she couldn’t talk,” I mused, thinking out loud. “So maybe she’s being kept in a fridge or freezer.”

“What, like at a grocer or a butcher?”

“Something like that, but who knows where.” I searched the street helplessly, frustration and despair attempting to put a stranglehold on me. “Fuck,” I hissed, trying to keep from crushing my phone in my clenched fist.

“Grocers tend to be larger operations—more employees and complications. My money is on a butcher. I say unless we have a better plan, we just start checking butchers. We can start on the north end of the Island and work our way south.”

“Works for me,” I muttered. “I have nothing better to suggest, and I don’t want to just sit on my ass doing nothing.”

“Let’s go. I’ll drive.” He turned and sped down the sidewalk, making me jog to catch up.

We drove from Manhattan through Jersey, then started at Ranchers Best Meat not far from the Bayonne Bridge. When that was a bust, we hit the Elm Park and Tompkinsville butchers without any luck.

“Google shows one in West Brighton, so we can hit that next. Head toward the zoo,” I instructed without taking my eyes from Google maps.

“That one’s closed.”

“Maybe that’s the perfect place to check then.”

“I can’t imagine Sal would have dared use the shop. It was bratva owned, located in the largest Russian community in all of Staten Island,” Michael explained.

We were both quiet for a moment. Then our eyes met at the same time, and I could see his thoughts had taken him to the same place as mine. It was possibly the one place on the island that the Italians wouldn’t dare look for Sal, which made it the perfect hideout—so long as the Russians didn’t figure it out.

“I assume you have my back on this,” I noted. “In any other circumstance, I’d need to set something up with Biba before I could go snooping on Russian property.”

“You’re with me, so there’s no problem. And I wouldn’t turn my back on you. It would be the same as turning my back on Sofia. Not gonna happen.”

Michael tested the limits of his car, weaving in and out of traffic. While he drove, I let Enzo know what we’d been up to. He hadn’t heard anything from Sal, and in this case, no news was not good news. We parked two doors down from the butcher shop and decided I’d take the front while Michael went around back. I waited out front while Michael used his lock-picking skills to get in. I tried not to get my hopes up, knowing how slim our chances were. I figured at least the venture kept me occupied and allowed me to feel like I was doing something to help.

After a minute or so, the front door opened, and Michael ushered me inside, a gun already in hand. As soon as I was off the street, I followed suit and took out my weapon. Aside from the meat having been removed, the place looked otherwise untouched.