Page 23 of Deal with the Devil
“If she calls you or reaches out in any way, you let me know,” I cut him off. “I mean it, Joe. Tell me immediately. I need to talk to her.”
“Okay, okay, Rafael… geez… alright. You don’t have to go being intense all the time. You know we’re good pals, aren’t we? I got the message the first time after our talk the other night. You can count on?—”
I hang up on him before he can ever finish the sentence.
There’s no fucking time to waste. Every second is of the essence, and I’ve got to figure out what the hell is going on.
I dial Adagio all the way back in Newport next, just as short and impatient with him.
“Reach out to Jayla,” I say as soon as he answers. “Get her to contact Portia. If there’s anybody Portia will respond to, it’s her sister.”
“Something the matter?” he asks. “Do I need to know any backstory?”
“No backstory,” I growl impatiently. “Just fucking do it. Make her call her. Make her get hold of her and then get back to me. I need to know she’s alright. This is urgent. Do it now.”
The instant we’re off the phone, I’m calling Maurizio up. He’s come with me to DC, my main enforcer for the trip along with a handful of other men serving as security. He’s already alert upon answering, asking if we’re finishing what we started.
My brow furrows. “What do you mean finishing what we started, stronzo?” I snap. “What did we start? Be specific! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He pauses half a second as if confused by the question, then says, “You called me last night saying there would be a body to dispose of.”
His words smack into me like a Mack truck. The air leaves my body as I go still and try to process what he’s said.
“What body?” I ask. “When the fuck did I say that?”
“Last night.”
“Whenlast night?!”
“Rafael...” Maurizio trails off. His tone says everything. It’s as if he’s asking a question without really asking it; as if he’s wondering if I’m being serious.
Or if this is some kind of joke. How could I forget our conversation?
But I have.
I have no recollection of it. I have no recollection of anything that happened after Portia walked through the glass doors of Sullivans and I rose from my seat to meet her…
A cold sweat breaks onto my skin as I start pacing the hotel suite, running fingers through my dark, unruly hair.
“Tell me word for word what I said. Tell me when I said it,” I request in a quiet tone. “I need to know it all.”
“You called after three in the morning. It would be on your call log. You told me you had an important stop to make and there would be a body to dump. Then you told me to standby for your call. But you never called back. Are you ready now? For the body?”
“There is no body!” I bark at him, exploding in frustration.
I’m taking it out on him and the others like Adagio and Germanotta, but it’s because I’m so fucking confused. I’m so lost as to what’s going on.
This has to be some kind of twisted alternate reality…
“Listen carefully,” I say after a few seconds. “I need you and everybody else to search the city for Portia. Start with her apartment. Look for any clues. Then track her down at her usual haunts… her favorite coffee shop… the grocery store she goes to… her favorite fucking nail salon… all of it! Search everywhere for her! And get back to me once you’ve found her.”
“She’s missing?” Maurizio asks.
“I… I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “We had dinner last night, and now she’s not answering my calls. The tracker’s not working, and she’s not at work either. Just search for her and let me know as soon as you find her.”
We’ve barely hung up before I’m in the closet, yanking on a pair of pants and henley shirt. My pulse hasn’t slowed, it’s only picked up the pace. I’m on edge in every sense of the word, keyed up as I stride over to the table where the bottle of wine sits along with the two near-empty glasses.
I pick up the one that must’ve been Portia’s. The lipstick on the rim matches the same red shade she wore last night.
