Page 94 of Possessive Mafia Vows

“Do you know how he got out without being spotted?”

“Best guess is that he broke into an empty ground floor apartment and climbed out through a window. He clearly had someplace to be.”

“Men like Hooch normally run at the first sign of trouble, but I don’t think he’s done here yet.”

Terry’s eyes are scanning the room as we speak. “So, what’s keeping him here?”

“It isn’t Sienna.”

“Whatever they’re paying him, it was too good to turn down.” Terry pauses. “More importantly, he believes that they’ll deliver.”

The image of Hooch in my head suddenly grows clearer, like the tiny picture inside the autorefractors used by opticians to measure light bouncing off the back of the eye. The lies. The brazen way in which he flaunted meeting Sienna in the Rinse. His accusation that she stole money from him.

He was gaslighting her. Terry is right: Hooch is convinced that whoever is paying him will follow through because he believes that he is untouchable. He preys on people who are weaker than him—generally women—and systematically breaks them down until they can no longer fight back. Then he moves on.

Hooch believes that he is worthy of payment.

He doesn’t care who he destroys in his wake because he is the center of his own universe. He doesn’t even care that he has put his daughter’s life in danger. If Hooch is okay, that’s all that matters.

“I need to know if he is on the flight with Sienna.” I flex my fingers.

I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so badly, to the point where Nick Morris is going to have to wait in line until I’m finished with Robert Carlton Hooch.

“If there’s anything here, we’ll find it.” Terry lays a warm hand on my shoulder.

I wander through to the bedroom. The bed is mussed up as if Hooch left in a hurry. The closet is empty apart from a rolled-up sock and a crumpled subway ticket. I unfold the ticket. It tells me that he took the subway to Fifth Avenue/53rdStreet station.

It isn’t what I’m looking for.

He must’ve dropped some breadcrumbs along the way. He’s untouchable. He got away with hurting Sienna’s mom and walking out on his family, and God knows how many other women he has treated the same way. So, to him, this must be just another situation that he’ll walk away from unscathed when his bank account is looking a bit healthier.

The nightstand is empty.

The bookshelves are bare.

On impulse, I get on my hands and knees and check under the bed, sneezing when I inhale dust. My airways start to clog, and I cover my mouth and nose with my hand while I scan the carpet that’s thick with fluff-balls.

I’m about to stand up and open the window when I spot what appears to be a crumpled note. Turning my face away to help me breathe, I slide my arm under the bed and retrieve the folded paper. Only it isn’t a note, it’s a well-worn paper coaster, the kind used in traditional Irish pubs.

There’s a faded image of a pint of Guinness on the coaster and a name printed across it in bold red font. The first letter is missing, erased with use, but the remaining letters spell out ARREN’S BAR.

Darren’s bar?

Terry appears in the doorway, and I hand him the coaster.

“Does this mean anything to you?” My phone is already out of my pocket.

“Darren’s Bar?” Terry jumps to the same conclusion as I did.

“No search results.” I start systematically working my way through the alphabet until I reach the letter F. “Farren’s Bar, Malin Head, Donegal. Why would he have a coaster from an Irish bar?”

“Souvenir?” Terry suggests.

I pocket the coaster. “It’s as good a place to start as any.”

I stand a little taller, buzzing with the find. It might be unimportant, but there are too many coincidences surrounding Hooch’s reappearance in his daughter’s life for me to let this go.

I check the time on my phone. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the flight.

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