Page 29 of Wicked Mistletoe

“Christ, Rafael. Ever heard of texting back?” he complains. “I’m juggling multiple projects here. I can’t afford distractions.”

“Yeah, yeah. Spill it. Tell me what you found.”

“This isn’t the bastard’s first rodeo.” His voice mixes with the familiar click–clacking of his fingers on the keyboard. “Six years ago, little kids were snatched off the street following the exact same MO as our man. The cases were swept under the rug—hardly any media coverage because it was around the same time detective Rossi was killed. Then the warehouse fire happened, and… the death of your dad—” He pauses to clear his throat, “I mean Alfonso.”

My grip tightens on the steering wheel. I remember that time all too well. The media was in a frenzy about the death of Emilia’s dad. Everyone knew my father was behind it, but the son of a bitch had half the city in his pockets. Cops, politicians, judges—you name it, he owned it. But then a week later, my dear old dad…died,and the vultures had a field day trying to piece together who took out the big, bad don.

It’s no wonder a few missing kids didn’t make the headlines.

My thumb taps on the steering wheel as the gears in my head start turning. Is it the same guy or a wannabe copycat trying his luck? Someone who figured the same shit went unnoticed six years ago, so why not do it again? Nah. This feels too calculated, too deliberate. “It’s the same sick fuck, isn’t it?”

“Looks that way. I think our man got cocky,” Michael confirms. “Probably thought with everything going on right now, he could slip under the radar again.”

That’s his first mistake.

“I also found a pattern to the way his victims are decided,” Michael continues. “He’s targeting orphanages in the roughest parts of the city. Places with staff stretched so thin they won’t kick up a fuss over a missing kid or two. Manhattan alone is full of dumps like that, so he hasn’t hit the same place twice. Probably think he’s untouchable… But get this—he’s got a quota. Twelve girls. Same as last time.”

A dozen kids.That motherfucker.

“Bet he didn’t bank on Romero taking an interest in the case,” I mutter.

Michael clicks his tongue. “One thing about him, though—he’s smart. Very smart. He’s not going after the same places he hit last time, probably worried someone might remember and connect the dots. But that narrows down his options. I think I might even know which of the five boroughs he’ll hit next, but I need a few more hours to nail the exact pattern he’s using to pick his targets. Once I do, we can set a trap and wait for him.”

“Good. Great job, Michael.”

He grunts. “I want this fucker caught ASAP. No mercy for child killers.”

I hum in agreement. No argument there.

One thing my brothers and I share, despite our different bloodlines, are the scars left by our heavy–handed fathers—fathers who passed down their frustrations to their sons with their fists. It’s the glue that first bound us together all those years ago.

Michael’s dad, ex-senator Rick Hart, might have had the public fooled with his saintly image—like most of those crooked politicians—but I know all too well the monster that lurked beneath. A monster that bankrolled my father and had him do his dirty laundry. Hell, Rick might’ve even been worse than Alfonso. Because, for all my dad’s flaws, I always knew where I stood with him. Michael… well, his relationship with his old man was a whole other brand of messed up.

Shaking off the ghosts of the past, I ask him, “By the way, how did the launch of your game go?”

Michael’s end goes quiet. No more keyboard clicks. “Are you asking because you’re curious, Rafael, or because you’re worried my company’s about to rake in more cash than yours this year? Think you can’t keep up with me?”

His voice is playful, and I chuckle. “Fuck you. We’re not even in the same line of business.”

“If you must know,” he says, pride seeping into his tone, “StarQuestwas released without a hitch last night and is already one of the most downloaded games in the world—and that’s just within twenty–four hours of its launch. That’s why my schedule is so tight right now. There are so many people downloading it that I have to constantly make sure it doesn’t crash… while also trying to incorporate the feedback from our beta testers.”

“Sounds like a good problem to have. You bragging right now, Michael?”

“Why the fuck are you still on the phone? You’re distracting me.” The typing resumes, faster than before.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll let you get back to it. Oh, and Michael?”

“What?”

“Congratulations,fratello.You deserve this.”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Wow, so touching, Rafael. Hold on while I grab a box of tissues,” he deadpans.

“Asshole.” I hang up with a chuckle.

9

EMILIA

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