Page 28 of Vicious Behaviors
I head upstairs and knock on Enzo’s door, fully aware he’s not alone. A few seconds later, the door swings open.
Enzo grins like a cat who got into the cream. “Hey, bro,” he says with a chuckle.
He steps aside to let me into his room, which looks like a hurricane just hit it. The bedsheets are twisted, there’s a bedside lamp knocked over on the floor, and the air is so thick with the smell of sex, I almost choke on it. Alejandro, aka Father Torres, stands by the window pretending to admire the view, instead of facing the embarrassment of meeting my eyes after walking into such a disaster area.
“Alejandro.” I nod.
Calling him Father feels wrong, especially when I’m pretty sure he let my brother fuck him six ways from Sunday not too long ago.
“Marcello,” he greets me with a sheepish smile.
I don’t look at him for long. Not when old images of me snapping Father McDonagh’s neck begin to flash behind my eyes.
“So what’s up?” Enzo asks, dropping into his desk chair.
“I need a favor,” I say flatly, snapping out of the haze.
“Okay,” he says easily, already waking his computer. “What kind?”
“The intel kind. I need you to look into the womanNonnohired. The new trainer.”
“Let me guess,” he smirks. “You don’t trust her.”
I frown, hating to have, apparently, become that guy—predictably paranoid, suspicious, always circling in defense.
“Something like that. So… can you help me or not?”
“Have a seat, big brother, and watch the master work.” He grins, fingers already flying across the keyboard.
“You don’t even want her name?”
“Why?” He shrugs. “You said she works forNonno,right? That’s all I need.”
Instead of sitting, I hover behind him, watching as he breaks into our grandfather’s HR files with disturbing ease. Within seconds, he pulls up Izzie’s social security number and uses it to grab her birth certificate, high school diploma, college records, and all her military enlistment documentation. On his second monitor, he scrubs the internet, finding her footprints faster than she could ever delete them. Tagged photos, posts from friends, and even metadata from removed files are all up for grabs if Enzo decides they are.
“You’re really good at this,” I admit, genuinely impressed.
“This?” He scoffs. “Child’s play. Give me something hard next time.” If I weren’t so on edge, I might have laughed. “Well, that’s odd,” he says all of a sudden, making my heart jump.
“What is it?”
“Just give me a second,” Enzo says while typing. “Hmm,” he mutters after a while, spinning in his chair to face me. His friendly smile is now erased, replaced by a grave and intense look instead. “You were right. This Izzie chick is definitely hiding something.”
“Show me,” I demand.
He turns back and pulls up two military documents on the screen. “Nothing looked off at first, but then I found this.” He toggles between them. “This one says she was honorably discharged a few months ago. But this one?” He clicks again. “It says she’s been stateside for over three years now.”
“Could she have done another tour abroad and come back?” I ask, unfamiliar with military protocol.
“Technically, sure. An honorable discharge doesn’t preclude reenlistment,” he allows. “But there’s a problem with that theory.”
“Which is?”
“I’ve got her tagged in a few Instagram posts over those three years. One in D.C., another in San Francisco, and one where she’s clearly helping her parents move from Chicago to Florida after their retirement. Not exactly what you’d expect from someone actively deployed abroad. The army isn’t known for handing out vacation days to staff on tour for family brunch and beach pics.” I scowl, the weight of the info settling hard in my ribs. “I can tellNonnohad someone run a background check on her recently, but it wasn’t thorough enough. And why would it be? On the surface, she’s spotless.”
“And under the surface?”
Enzo doesn’t hesitate. “She’s hiding something, alright. You think it’s enough to bring to Dad?”
