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She waited until he’d rounded the corner into the hall to exhale. What had that been about? It could have been more of Diego’s posturing. More proof that he was in charge. Diego liked scaring her. Liked putting her on edge and making her wonder when the other shoe would drop.

  So why did she have the feeling that he was toying with her? That he was enacting his punishment for her betrayal, for her theft of his computer, batting at her like a cat with an already-maimed mouse.

  41

  Luca had to force himself to leave an hour before Isabel and Marco. Diego had left the house after lunch, but Eduardo was still lurking around the property, and Luca didn’t want him to alert Diego to any inconsistencies.

  He found Isabel in Sofia’s room, packing the few things she could fit into her own tote bag, the only thing she dared carry without alerting anyone to the fact that she didn’t plan on returning.

  “Is it time?” she asked, setting Sofia’s favorite stuffed rabbit inside the bag.

  He nodded, and pulled her into his arms. “I wish I could stay with you.”

  She leaned her cheek against his chest. “Me, too.”

  He stroked her hair, wanting to keep her with him like this, safe in the shelter of his arms, forever. “In two hours, we’ll be together again,” he said. “Sofia will be with us, and you’ll have the fresh start you deserve.”

  She nodded, pulled back to look at him with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.”

  He touched her face, wondering when it had become so dear to him. When her eyes had become so familiar that he felt like he’d been looking into them forever. He didn’t know how he’d breathed without her, and his life before her seemed startlingly empty and cold.

  “I love you, Isabel.” He said it before he could second guess himself. Because it was true, and if anyone deserved everything beautiful and true, it was Isabel. “I had no idea what I was getting into when I chased you down that beach, when I took this job, but I want you to know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  She smiled, and his heart broke a little with the sweetness of it. “Not even my crazy brother?”

  He pretended to think about it. “Maybe that.”

  She laughed, stood on tip toe and pressed her mouth to his. When she pulled away it was just enough to speak against his lips. “I love you, too. I’m sorry to bring you into this mess of mine, but I’m afraid there’s no help for it now. There’s no way I could live without you.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “So it’s you and me then? You and me and Sofia?”

  She nodded. “If you’ll have us.”

  He cradled her cheek with his hand. “Always.”

  He bent his head to hers, kissed her long and slow: a promise of all the kisses to come, all the moments they would have together now that she would be free. Then he pulled away, because kissing her made his blood boil, lit a fire in his body that felt like a match to dry kindling, and there was no time.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  She nodded. “You will.”

  He turned and left before he could change his mind. Before he did something stupid like stay with her in spite of the alarm bells it might send to Eduardo, in spite of all the bad things that might follow.

  They had a plan. He could stick to it for a couple more hours. Then she would be in his arms for good.

  42

  Isabel walked slowly among the pieces in her studio, running a finger along the bumpy lines of paint on the canvases. They represented so much. Here was the painting she’d done after her father died. She could see her grief in the threads of midnight blue running through the purples and greens. There was the painting she’d done for Sofia, all of her sister’s light and love evident in the thick swaths of yellow and orange. And of course, the painting she thought of as Luca’s, with all her newfound hope, the first canvas that didn’t have a single dark color wound into its swirls and arcs.

  They were like friends, old and new. She would miss them, and she hated most of all to leave them to Diego, He would destroy them, of course. It would be a way to hurt her, and somewhere along the line, that had become Diego’s favorite pastime.

  She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to let them all go. Like her parents, they would live on in her heart. They had been partners in her survival. She would never forget that, and someday soon, she’d be working again, painting with all the colors of her freedom. She said a last goodbye, then turned and left the room without looking back.

  Marco was waiting for her in the foyer. It was the exact same time they left everyday, and they’d been careful not to vary their afternoon routine at all. Eduardo had taken to watching her even when Marco was around — she could only assume it was because Diego had assigned him to the job — and even when she wasn’t doing anything wrong it made her jumpy.

  But she stuck with Marco, slid into his car as if it were any other day, her big tote bag stuffed with the few clothes she could fit without being suspicious, plus Sofia’s stuffed rabbit. Then they were on their way to Sofia’s school, passing by familiar houses, traversing familiar streets, all of it just like any other day. Except this would be the last day. After this, they would be somewhere new. She would be with Luca, and she would never have to worry about Diego’s hold over her again.

  She drew in a relieved breath when Sofia’s school came into sight. They were almost there.

  “Stop fucking pacing,” Elia said. “It’s not going to get them here any faster.”

  Luca stopped. “I know. I’m just nervous.”

  Elia went to the fridge and removed two beers, handed one to Luca. “Well, you’re making me nervous.”

  Luca twisted off the cap and took a drink. “Thanks.”

  “She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” he asked.

  Luca nodded, unashamed. “She did.”

  Elia shook his head, like the whole thing was a sorry state of affairs. “So I guess you’ll be riding off into the fucking sunset together?”

  “If I’m lucky," Luca said grimly. “And I hope to god I am.”

  “Be right back,” Sofia said to Marco.

  She slid out of the car and made her way to the front of the school, then took her place in the pick-up line. She was nervous, but the sun was out, the breeze warm on her shoulders. And she was right here at Sofia’s school, just moments away from finally being free.

  She smiled at the other mothers and nannies as they inched closer to the greeter’s desk, removing her driver’s license as proof of her identity when she got close. Finally it was her turn, and she handed over her ID and wrote Sofia's name on the sign-out sheet.

  The greeter, an older woman with gray hair and bright pink lipstick, craned her neck to see the name, then turned the clipboard to get a better look.

  “Oh,” she said, paging to the previous sheet.

  “What is it?” Isabel asked. But somewhere in the pit of her stomach a sinkhole was opening up.

  “I’m afraid Sofia was already picked up,” the woman said, smiling up at her. “By her brother, Diego.”

  “No…” Everything went black around the edges of her vision as she backed away from the table, stuffing her hand in her mouth against the scream that threatened to tear everything apart.

  Then Marco was there, his strong hand under her elbow propping her up. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She could hardly bring herself to say the words, but she had to say them. They wouldn’t start looking for Sofia until she said them.

  “He took her,” she finally said. “Diego took Sofia.”

  She was hardly aware of the next few minutes. There was a hurried push through the crowd picking up their children, children who would be waiting for them, who hadn’t been taken by someone mean and cruel like Diego, and then Marco was settling her into the car, hurrying around to the driver’s seat, putting the car in gear and calling Luca on his phone.

  By the time they got to the house Elia had set up for them, Luca was hurrying down the st
eps to meet the car. She wasn’t even all the way out of her seat before he was pulling her into his arms, crushing her against his body.

  “We were too late,” she said. “She’s gone.”

  He took her face in his hands, made her look into his eyes. “We’ll get her back, Isabel. I swear it. And then I’m going to kill that motherfucker who calls himself your brother.”

  Part Three

  43

  Luca got out of the car and rested his hand on his weapon as he headed for the low slung house with crumbling yellow stucco.

  He was nowhere near safe. For more reasons than one.

  The neighborhood was dingy and run down, one of the most violent in North Miami. There was the occasional lifeless palm tree, but other than that, the place was devoid of greenery.

  Normally he wouldn’t risk a source he didn’t know well, but he’d been pushed to desperation by the light that had gone out of Isabel’s eyes since Diego took off with Sofia a month earlier. He’d do anything to bring it back, even talk to a small time dealer like Benito Cruz in the hopes that he’d heard something on the street about Diego’s whereabouts.

  He walked to the door, hand still on his weapon, keeping his gaze casual as he scanned a group of men standing in front of the house. He could have taken one or two, maybe even three. But there were five of them, all with guns hanging out of their waistbands. He kept it cool as he ambled to the front door, but inside he was wondering if it had been short-sighted not to bring Marco or Elia. He’d wanted to leave Isabel with both men as protection — he was more skittish than ever after Diego’s move with Sofia — but this was looking even shadier than he’d expected.

  “Looks like you’re in the wrong part of town, homie,” one of them said.

  He was short and squat, with powerful arm muscles and tattoos that indicated hard time. Luca wondered if the red bandana around his head was a sign of gang affiliation or just coincidence.

  He wasn’t anxious to find out.

  “Nah, brother,” he said calmly. “Got a meeting with Benito.”

  “You got a meeting with Benito?” one of the other guys asked. He was just as muscular as Red Bandana, but with an extra eight inches of height, he was even taller than Luca. Not good. “Shit, can’t be! No way.”

  Luca nodded slowly. “Luca Cassano. Check it.”

  He looked Luca up and down through narrowed eyes, then turned and made for the house. The others pinned him with their eyes, their body language taut and familiar. It was the posture of a coiled snake, waiting to strike. They might seem like they were sleeping, or even like they didn’t care, but they’d be on him in less than five seconds if Benito gave the word. Luca knew the stance well.

  He’d spent most of his life in it.

  Normally, he would mimic them in an effort to prove they were on equal footing. But he knew instinctively that it would do him no good here. He needed to act like the guest he was, show respect, until it became obvious that it would get him killed.

  Red Bandana returned from inside the house, the security screen slamming against the door jam behind him.

  “Boss says let him in,” he said to the others.

  The big one raised an eyebrow as Luca moved forward. “You’re forgetting something, brother.”

  Luca stopped, sighed, raised his arms. A moment later, the man removed Luca’s weapon from the holster at his side and patted him down.

  When they’d cleared him, Red Bandana nodded toward the door. “Be cool.”

  He wasn’t crazy about entering the den of a man like Benito Cruz unarmed, but it was necessary, and he nodded and stepped toward the door.

  The house was dim, the air stale and dank. Faded curtains were drawn against the sunlight, and a TV broadcast Spanish television on mute in the corner. The carpet was worn and dirty, the furniture old. Luca scanned the room, his eyes coming to rest on a slender man in a suit sitting on the sofa. From a distance, he looked almost imposing, his jacket finely made, hair combed back from his forehead.

  It was only when Luca got close that he saw the truth. The guy was obviously a meth head, his teeth stained and crooked in a face that was too gaunt for his large features. On closer inspection, the suit was too big, hanging on the sharp angles of the man’s shoulder blades, his hair greasy and thinning near the crown.

  “Did you bring my money?” the man asked without preamble, his eyes still on the television.

  Luca crossed his arms. “Do you have information for me on Diego Fuentes?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the man said. “You’re paying me to put the word out, ask around. I did that.”

  “So I take it that means you didn’t find out anything?” Luca asked.

  The man’s eyes shifted to his, and Luca saw that the whites had a slightly yellow cast. He wondered if it was a trick of the light or if the guy had some kind of liver problem. He did not look good.

  “The guy is dark, man,” Benito said. “Went upline to three of my sources. None of them have seen Fuentes in over a month.”

  “How are they getting supplied?” Luca asked. It’s not like the drug trade in Miami had dried up overnight. Someone was supplying the city, and he doubted Diego had given his territory to Lorenzo Sanchez, his Columbian rival.

  Benito shrugged, reached for a pipe on a table next to the couch and started prepping it. “Some flunky of Diego’s is doing his dirty work, is what I hear,” he said.

  “Flunky have a name?” Luca was talking more quickly now. He recognized the light in Benito’s eyes when he looked at the pipe. He was anxious to get back to his high, and Luca was in his way.

  “If he does, I don’t know what it is,” Benito said, crinkling a baggie in his hand.

  Luca rubbed the five o’clock shadow at his chin. “Anything else?” he asked. “Anything that will tell me what’s going on inside his territory? Decrease in supply? New rivalries? Anything like that?”

  Benito let out a hoarse chuckle, then started to cough. Luca waited while he hacked, the cough dry and raspy.

  “Rivalry is part of the biz, man. Can’t say anything’s changed there. The drugs come in at the harbor. They go out on the streets. Money changes hands. You know how it is.”

  Luca didn’t know. Not practically speaking. The drug trade was something Nico had eliminated when he took over the Vitale family after his father’s death, along with trafficking, underage porn, and a host of other income streams that didn’t sit well with him. Luca had been only too happy to see the business evolve into a modern model that relied heavily on cyber crime, surveillance, and corporate espionage.

  “Sanchez still in play?” Luca asked, digging for any small piece of information that might help him find Sofia.

  “Far as I know,” Benito said.

  It was a paltry excuse of information for the sum Luca had agreed to, but he didn’t feel like arguing over the money, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like fighting his way out of the house through Red Bandana and the other guys guarding the front door. He removed the envelope from his jacket and set it down on the end table.

  “Any idea where I might get more information on Fuentes?”

  Benito took the money, but his eyes were already back on the pipe. “Nah, man. Sorry.”

  Luca hesitated, then nodded at the envelope. “Take some of that money and see a doctor, will you? You’re not looking so good.”

  He turned around. By the time he hit the door, Benito was already leaning back against the couch, head tipped back as he rode the first wave of his high. Luca wondered how long it would be before one of the thugs out front decided to commandeer Benito’s operation. It was inevitable. You couldn’t keep control over men like that with your face buried in a meth pipe.

  He stepped out onto the crumbling porch and was surprised to see only Red Bandana left. Obviously they’d pegged him as low risk. They were lucky he didn’t have anything to prove, that he was only here to help Isabel. One slip up like that would get them all killed someday.

  The
guy handed him his weapon.

  “Thanks,” Luca said, stepping off the porch.

  “De nada,” Red Bandana said.

  Luca headed for the car, defeat simmering in his veins. He’d started at the top, putting out feelers with Aldo and anyone else who might have a line on Diego, then worked his way down to small time dealers like Benito.

  All for nothing.

  Diego was a ghost. He was still conducting business, but no one had seen him in the flesh in weeks. In the meantime, Isabel was sick with worry, wandering the house at all hours of the day and night, unable to sleep and barely able to eat through her worry for Sofia.

  The screen door slammed as Red Bandana walked into the house, and Luca paused near a decrepit palm tree near the car, trying to get his anger under control. He had to go back to Isabel and tell her they were still at square one, and he had to do it without letting her know how hopeless it was all beginning to feel.

  How futile.

  He slammed his fist into the trunk of the palm tree. “Fuck!”

  44

  Isabel walked to the window in Sofia’s room and looked out over the lawn. Why had her parents put Sofia in one of the rooms on this side of the hall? She should have had an ocean view, like Isabel. She should have been able to wake up every day and stare out at the horizon, dreaming of all the things that were possible for her someday.

  Isabel wondered what her little sister had thought about when she looked out her window at the armed guards patrolling the property, the iron fence keeping them prisoner. Had she felt as trapped as Isabel? Or had it simply been all she’d ever known, something that never even crossed her mind?

  Isabel hoped it was the latter. She was with Diego now, and it seemed that no matter what Luca and Marco and the new man named Elia did, they couldn’t seem to find him. She hoped Sofia had been happy when she was here. Hoped she’d done the job of making Sofia feel safe even when she hadn’t been.