“You think he’ll call someone else?”
“Just covering all my bases, Frank.”
“How did he take you not bringing Becca home?”
“Not well.”
“Jesus, Sin. Do you always have to make my life difficult?”
“Thank you, Frank. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. I have information on Savio’s phone records you asked me to trace.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“He made and received calls from Tuscany, Italy; Hanover, New Hampshire; and West Palm Beach, Florida.”
“Send me a timeline on the calls.”
“Do you think Savio is part of this puzzle you keep speaking of?”
“No idea. Just covering my . . .”
“Your bases. Got it.” Frank sighed. “I’ll run the other number. Keep me informed.”
“Bye, Frank, and thank you for your help.”
Sin went back to the kitchen to find Becca and Sawyer whispering.
“Private conversation?” she asked, taking a seat.
“Just catching up,” Sawyer said.
“Has my dad called?” Becca asked. Her voice high, her words fast.
“Not yet, but he should be calling any second.” Sin placed her phone on the table and accepted a cup of coffee from Carmelita who was standing silently in the corner. “Thank you, Madre,” she said, cupping the hot mug.
Her phone rang before she had a chance to take a sip. Looking at the incoming number, she slid the phone across the table to Becca.
“Can I take it in the other room?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
Becca answered the phone as she stood and walked out of the kitchen. “Hi, Dad!”
Sin could hear Becca’s voice crack as she started to cry.
Sawyer stood, but Sin grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. “Give them some space. You and I have a conversation to finish.”
He pulled an old coin from his pocket and shuffled it across his knuckles. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
The two spoke while Becca was talking to her dad. When Becca came back into the kitchen, Sin looked at her and Sawyer before addressing Carmelita. “Madre, it seems we have another guest staying with us temporarily. Would you mind making up a bed for Agent Sawyer?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Sin walked away mumbling. “Christ, now I’m running a Bed and Breakfast.”
26
Onyx sat at the table in the front room of the small cabin, fisting his phone and checked the time. At exactly nine a.m., his phone rang.
“Onyx,” he said.
“Onyx. Pff. Call yourself whatever you want,” a voice spat back. “You’re just a punk, like all the rest. I could crush you and your Black 6 gang with one blow if I wanted.” Onyx sneered but didn’t say a word. He knew it was true. “Have you heard from Russo?”
“He sent a message this morning. He said he is putting together a shipment. He said it would take a couple of days.” Onyx could hear laughter coming from the receiver.
“Anything else?”
“He asked about the video I sent of his daughter. Wanted to know if it was real?”
“What did you say?”
“I told him it was real enough and that she’d be dead in a week if I didn’t get the money.”
“Good. Once you get the money, I want her dead.”
“But—”
“No buts,” the voice answered. “She’s nothing but extra baggage. She can identify you and your little gang of misfits. Do as I say.”
The phone went dead before Onyx could say another word. He slid his phone into a pocket of his fatigues, grabbed his M16, and walked into the back room.
Amani was sitting in the steel chair staring at his captive. Onyx glanced at him before eying the girl. She lay on the cot but was no longer tied down or gagged. There was no need. Pia was just a shell of a human being: her skin pale—almost chalky, her lips had begun to turn a bluish-purple, her mind no longer her own.
“She’s so quiet,” Amani said when Onyx asked how the prisoner was doing. “I hated it when she gurgled like a baby, but this is worse. What will happen to her?”
Onyx shrugged. “If she is left like that, she’ll probably die, but that’s not her future.”
Amani opened his mouth to speak, but Onyx cut him off. “I’m headed to Key West. As soon as I give you the word, I want you to put a bullet in her head and feed her to the gators.” A sick, lopsided grin rose from his thick lips. “Video the killing and send it to me.”
Amani’s jaw dropped open. “I’m not a killer,” he mumbled when he was finally able to speak. “I thought we just wanted the money.”
Onyx grabbed him by the throat, yanked him out of the chair, and threw him against the wall. He pulled the slide back on his weapon and aimed it at him. “You are whatever I say you are. If I don’t see that video minutes after I give you the word, I’ll kill both of you. Understand?”
Amani nodded, gasping for breath, tears running down his cheeks.
“Good. Now do as I tell you and watch the girl.”
27
At noon, Sin watched from a chair on the front porch as a black limo pulled onto the shell-rock driveway of her old home on Tumbleboat Key. She sat motionless as the driver stepped out and opened the back door.
She noticed two things about the driver right away. First was how his suit coat sat uneven on his right hip. The second was how he adjusted his left pant leg.
Muscle, she said to herself. Armed muscle.
When Russo emerged from the car, she stood, straightened her gun belt, and pointed at the driver. “Remove your weapons before taking another step.”
“I assure you Ms. O’Malley my diver is unarmed,” Russo smiled.
Sin’s hand rested on the pearl grip of her .45. “It’s Agent O’Malley, and I assure you that I am a faster draw than your man. I want him to slowly remove the gun on his right hip and the one strapped to
