Page 17 of Ruin Me With Lies
“Exactly.”He grabs a headset, fits it over my head, and gestures to the monitor.“Listen.Tell me what was said.”
On the monitor is an old, abandoned warehouse, rife with corrosion, scattered car parts, and rusted oil barrels.Four men stand outside a silver pickup parked just inside.One keeps glancing around, restless.Another keeps checking his watch.The other two lounge against the truck, chatting it up about their night at the strip club.
After a while, the restless ones start throwing out questions:Are we at the right place?What if this is a setup?Should we leave?
Their paranoia climbs.
Then, two black Lincoln Navigators roll up.
Stefano Castello steps out.Impeccable in his suit.Cocksure confidence in his stride.Fearlessness in his gait.A stark contrast to the bloodied, disheveled, burn-the-world-down version of him from last night.
Before my heart can trip over itself and pass out, Lorenzo reaches over and pauses the video.
“Tell me,” he says.
“Uh…” I clear my throat.“Yeah, they haven’t said anything suspicious.But that’s intentional.”
“Meaning?”
“They know the spot is wired.”
“No.That doesn’t make any sense.”
“These two”—I point to the men on the screen—“are swapping stories about their night at one of your strip clubs, talking up how badass the Castellos are, how much respect they have for your organization.But tomyear?Their tone is off.Sarcastic.”
I rewind the video and point to the one I’m certain is the leader.“See this guy?Notice how he keeps looking around?He’s pretending to be nervous.But if you watch closely, every now and then, he bounces his gaze directly at each hidden camera.He knows exactly where they are.”I tap the screen again.“And here, see how his thumbs are hooked in his front pockets, his fingers positionedjust so.He’s sending a message.Do you see it?”
“Fuck you, too, asshole,” Lorenzo mutters.
“Looks like you have a traitor in your camp.”
Just then, Cora enters, carrying a small tray with a mug of coffee and a saucer of biscotti.She sets it down within reach, her hand resting warmly on my shoulder.
“Thanks, Cora.”
The door clicks shut behind her.
Lorenzo rubs his jaw.“We bugged their car during the exchange.”He lifts my headphones off, replacing them with his own.“Listen.Tell me what they’re saying.”
Taking a sip of coffee, I lean back, and focus.
Smart move bugging the vehicle because they’re talking now.No,arguing.Soon interrupted by a phone call.Confirming safe passage out of Vegas.
One’s worrying.Second guessing.Did we pick the right side?
A big payment.
Closing my eyes to immerse, I relay, “There’s a disagreement.”
Lorenzo’s exhale is sharp and tempered.“About?”
“Whether they picked the right side… and if their contact will come through with safe passage out of Vegas before you find out…”
“Find outwhat?”
I hold up a hand, listening, parsing.
But Lorenzo is impatient.“I swear to God, I’ll break that fucking finger if you don’t—”
