Page 73 of The Italian Reckoning
All hunger abandons me and I spend the next few hours poring over every detail of the case while waiting for Rocky to call. He doesn’t, but just as I begin to grow overly anxious about Mary and what she saw, a familiar rumbling fills the air. It’s a rumbling that I could pick out of any crowd since that bike, and its owner, has saved me more than I care to count.
Phone in hand, I rush to the front window and stare down as Rocky pulls up against the sidewalk and turns off the lights. He looks up and the streetlight reflecting off his visor makes the red piping around his helmet look pink.
He catches sight of me and waves, making my heart jump.
This could be it. Whatever Mary saw could finally bring an end to my torment. I wave back and grab my jacket.
The Painter can’t hide anymore.
32
ROCKY
“My daughter!”
Domenico whips his hands across Matteo’s desk and sends everything from the computer to the expensive crystal drink decanter onto the floor. “My fuckingdaughter, Matteo! I’ve put up with a lot of shit from you over the years. I’ve defended you at every turn, even when I thought you were making a mistake. I’ve ensured no one speaks ill of you, I’ve given you the best years of my life, and what do I get in return?” Throwing his hands up in the air, he whips away from the desk and I sidestep quickly to avoid his rampage.
“Domenico—”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” He spins back to my father and points furiously at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me Rocky is wrong, I fucking dare you!”
For the first time in my life, my father looks uncertain. His dark gaze drifts from Domenico to me, then back again, and he presses his lips into a thin line. “I can’t.”
“Exactly!” Domenico turns and slams his foot into the sleek brown coffee table, toppling it over with a crash as several ornaments and ash trays clatter to the ground.
“Not entirely, at least.” Matteo leans forward and places his elbows on the empty desk. “It might not be the same man.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Unable to keep my mouth shut any longer, I step closer to the desk. “I told you about this bastard. He’s a fucking serial killer, which means he targets the same type of person, and poor Mary fits that bill. Even with how he attempted to snatch her. How can you not see how this is linked to Belle?”
“Because people get kidnapped all the time and not everything is linked like you think it is,” Matteo snaps. “That stupid woman got in your head and now you see connections everywhere!”
“Don’t you dare.” Anger licks around my words. “Sarah might be a cop but she’s the only one who was actuallydoingsomething while you were sitting here behind that fucking desk acting like we’re untouchable. And even now, you only contemplate doing something because it’s Domenico’s daughter who’s affected!” I glance over my shoulder at Domenico as he angrily stomps about the office. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he growls through gritted teeth.
“If you had supported my working with Sarah from the start, then this bastard could be behind bars or six feet under and then we wouldn’t have a traumatized girl upstairs!” I yell back at my father.
“How do we know this isn’t something else like Noah, hmm?” My father rises from his seat but keeps one hand on the desk. “First Belle, and now Mary?”
“Because there’s another victim, Kara. And she’s connected to the Irish. Fits the same profile, though, and the club Mary was snatched from isn’t far from where Belle was last seen or where Kara had last been known to be. That fucker has a hunting ground. Noteverythingis about us!”
“Fuck the Irish,” my father snaps. “You think you have it all figured out, but all I see is your reckless actions bringing us more disaster, Rocky! You’re incapable of understanding anything other than your next thrill!”
“Enough!” Domenico bellows, bringing our bickering to a halt. He stands in the middle of the room with his shoulders heaving like an angry bull. “Enough of your bullshit, Matteo. You’re a fucking coward hiding away in this office ever since Noah ran rampant through the city. A situation you should have handled to smooth things over with the Irish, but no, it was Rocky who stepped up when it became clear that Noah killed Brenden. The only reason you’re able to hide in this fucking shithole is because of your son. He sees clearer than you ever have. Look at you! Even now, with my daughter in tears upstairs fucking traumatized, you refuse to see! There’s a maniac out there targeting young women and you should have stamped him out the second he harmed Belle. It doesn’t matter that Gio is from a smaller family. They’re the fucking foundation of this enterprise and still, you hide. That kind of disconnect brings empires to their fucking knees. You have no idea how lucky you are that your son has the backbone to recognize when this family needs help!”
An eerie silence falls after Domenico’s yelling, so silent that I can hear the distant tick of the grandfather clock down in the foyer. No one has ever spoken up for me like that before. In all my years fighting with my father, I thought the things I strove to do went unnoticed by everyone here, but it seems Domenico has been watching. He’s seen everything.
My father’s lips part multiple times but no words come out. He’s like a goldfish searching for an argument that will stand up against Domenico’s rant, but there’s nothing.
“Buck the fuck up,” Domenico snarls. “This family needs a hands-on leader like Rocky, the kind of leader who’s out therebuilding alliances and friendships, helping people and showing strength among our own people so that when shit like this happens, we just need to make one phone call to find the fucker. Instead, because of you, this fucker’s been running rampant for months and I swear to God if Mary doesn’t recover from this, then I will kill you, Matteo.”
Furious words spoken in the heat of the moment by a concerned father aren’t to be taken lightly, but it’s still a direct threat against my father, the Don. Hierarchy dictates that I should step in and reprimand Domenico, but something stops me. He’s right. And maybe this is the wake up call my father needs. The fury of his best friend putting him right in the crosshairs.
“Domenico,” Matteo says finally. “You know I would never intentionally put your family in harm's way.”
“Well, you did,” he snarls. “Because you were too pigheaded to listen to your son.” Domenico drags one hand through his silver hair, then waves his other hand as if shoving something away. “Fuck this. I need to care for Mary.” Domenico storms out of the room, slamming the door forcefully as he exits.
I stand facing my father with my knee jumping back and forth. Nervous energy thrums through me like an electrical charge and my mind becomes an overwhelming jumble.
