"I have to do something."

"Don't you have today off?"

Jack nodded. Replacement tossed the blanket over, and Jack shook his head.

"No. I have to do this alone." Don't take her. Too dangerous. Way too dangerous. "It's nothing dangerous. I just have to do it alone...please?"

Replacement's mouth opened and then snapped shut. She nodded. "Okay." She exhaled as she lay back down. "Thank you." She snuggled back into the bed.

Jack paused at the door. "For what?"

"For being honest. It makes me feel safe." She curled up in the blankets.

I'm trying to keep you safe.

Jack nodded, and then closed the door.

I'm still a liar.

Don't be a smarta.s.s I'm an hour and twenty minutes away from the city. I'll go to her brother's house.

The Impala's engine roared to life. He pulled out his phone.

Be in here. Please be in here.

The GPS program appeared. Jack had never used it, but Marisa had.

Last Christmas. That's when she told me her real name, Angelica Mancini. She expected me to go in the other direction, but I didn't. She cried. Maybe it was Christmas that made her homesick. Maybe telling me and also opening up did it. She wanted to see her little brother. We drove all the way out there, and then she just looked at the house. But she used my phone to get us there.

Jack selected PAST DESTINATIONS and then looked for December 25th-Christmas Day.

Bingo. It's still here.

He pulled away from the curb and hit the gas.

Jack slowed down as he turned in to the upscale neighborhood with large houses set back from the road. Huge trees lined both sides of the street that curved lazily around in a long loop. Once he saw the street sign he was looking for, Jack set his phone down. He rolled to a stop at the intersection of the street with the Tudor home.

Two-story. Attached garage. Two big SUVs in the driveway.

He kept going a block, turned right, and then drove one more block before he pulled over to park. To be safe, he took all the cash out of his wallet.

A hundred twenty dollars.

Jack exhaled as he grabbed the door panel. He pulled the panel out with a snap and dropped his wallet and phone inside. He started to hide things in the door after he first moved into a pretty rough neighborhood. Meth addicts would smash your window in, looking for loose change, but if they didn't see anything valuable they left you alone. Jack patted his gun and got out.

Mancini's son's house. He could have security. Unprofessional thug security, but security.

He circled back until he approached the home. Small lights lined the long driveway on either side of the brick walkway. Three marble steps led up to a huge oak door. Jack rang the bell and waited.

Her brother has one h.e.l.l of an expensive house.

He resisted the urge to look in the window. His hand reached out for the buzzer again, but the door swung open. An older, barrel-shaped Italian man stood smiling in the doorway. He had thick, curly gray hair that still had some streaks of black.

The man from the picture. Orsacchiotto.

Jack guessed him to be in his sixties.

"Hi. I'm looking for Ilario."

"Ilario?" The old man smiled and nodded. "Buongiorno. Come stai?"

Jack blinked.

Shoot. I don't know Italian.

"Ilario?" Jack repeated.

"Ilario." The old man nodded his head and then stepped back. "Ilario si prega di entrare." He motioned for Jack to follow him.

Jack tipped his head, and then smiled back. "Thank you." Jack stepped over the threshold and into the home.

As the old man closed the door behind them, the lock clicked. Jack could hear many people moving around.

"Nice and slow, kid." The voice was the old man's.

He speaks English fine.

As Jack raised his hands and turned around, seven other men came into the entranceway: two from the hallway, two from what looked to be a giant study, and three from the living room where the sound of a TV played in the background.

Six pistols. One pump shotgun. Old guy has a d.a.m.n hand cannon. Smith and Wesson .500 Magnum. That would blow me through the door.

Jack kept his hands up.

"Pat him down." The old man looked Jack up and down.

"I have a gun in a shoulder holster," Jack announced.

A very fat man stepped forward, took Jack's gun, and handed it to a medium-built guy with a big nose. He then proceeded to pat Jack down but was unable to bend past his huge belly so he stopped at Jack's knees.

I have to get a boot gun.

"Bring Ilario out," the old man ordered.

Two men stepped into the side room, but came right back, escorting a young man. They marched him into the hallway where he stared at Jack. He was short, with thick, curly black hair, but Jack could immediately see the resemblance to Marisa.

Ilario. Marisa's little brother.

Ilario shook his head. "I don't know him."

The fat guy with the shotgun raised it up, and the guy next to Jack screamed out, "Stop, you freakin' idiot. I'm right next to him."

Jack kept his hands up, but shifted his weight to the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. "Wait. I'm a friend of Angelica's."

The two guys next to him kept moving away.

"What do you know about Angelica?" The old man walked forward and stuck the barrel of the large gun in Jack's face.

"She's missing. I think someone took her."

Ilario darted forward, but the old man held out a hand. The old man's bushy brows knit together. "If she is...missing, how do we know that you didn't have anything to do with it?"

"One-and no offense intended-why the h.e.l.l would I come here, trying to help, if I was a bad guy?"

Don't.

Jack smirked.

The old man c.o.c.ked the revolver.

"Two-in my shirt pocket, Orsacchiotto." Jack tried his best with the difficult Italian word. The gun in Jack's face trembled. Jack swallowed. "I don't know what it means, but that's what Angelica called you."

The old man nodded to the guy with the big nose, who reached into Jack's pocket. He took out the photograph Jack had put there and handed it to the old man. When Ilario looked over his shoulder, his eyes went wide. He grabbed the photo out of the old man's hand and held it up to Jack.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"It was the only photograph she had. Like I said, Angelica's my friend, and I'm trying to help find her."

Ilario turned to the old man. "Paolo, we need-"

Paolo backhanded him in the mouth. Ilario stumbled backward but didn't fall. Paolo lowered the gun to point at the floor, and Jack exhaled.

"What's your name?"

Don't say anything that could tell them where she is.

"Friend."

Paolo's eyes narrowed while the other men shifted restlessly. "Why do you think something is wrong with Angelica?"

"Someone saw her being taken into a car."

"Who?"

Jack hesitated. "A friend of mine."

Paolo's lips pressed together, but Jack saw the old man's eyes.

He knows I'm watching out for her. Part of him respects that. The other part's bad.

Paolo looked Jack up and down before he holstered the gun. "Follow me."

He led Jack down a short hallway to a door. Paolo held up a hand, went inside, and then closed the door. Jack waited in the hallway as Big Nose and Fat Man stood on either side of him. After a few minutes, Paolo opened the door and waved for Jack to come in.

The room was a large study. From the thick red carpet on the floor to the paneled walls, the room felt expensive to Jack. At the back of the room was a thick oak desk, and standing beside it could be none other than Severino Mancini. He was almost six feet tall and looked as though he belonged in a boardroom. Black Armani suit, red tie, and perfect hair created the picture of a powerful businessman, not quite the image of the butcher Jack had read about.

Jack stopped judging the man when he saw his face. Severino was in his late fifties. He was a handsome man, but his eyes were hollow. As he looked up, Jack could almost feel the man's pain.

"You're a cop. I already got a call from the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who took my little girl away from me. Why are you here?"

His voice was so smooth it took Jack an extra second to take in what he'd just said. "Who called you?"

"You don't get it. I ask-you answer." He looked at Paolo, and Jack saw the way the old man shifted his gun so he was now palming the cannon.

He's holding it to pistol-whip. Don't be a smarta.s.s. That thing would cave my face in.

Jack nodded. "I'm a friend of Angelica's." Jack regretted his choice of words when he saw Severino's scowl, but he continued. "She's missing."

"So Prescott told me when he called. He said two guys might have driven off with her. Asked me if I was having any issues with anyone." He scoffed. "The list to come after me is long. Prescott had no details. He thought she could be...away on a vacation. What do you think?"

Jack shook his head. "She was scared about something. She thought someone was watching her."

Severino growled and his arm swept everything on the desk onto the floor. Gla.s.s broke, and papers went flying. The door behind Jack opened as Fat Man and Big Nose ran in.

"Clean it up," Severino bellowed at them. "That p.r.i.c.k takes my daughter and can't keep my little girl safe? Now I'll fix it." He took two steps forward. "Do you know what they look like?"

"No."

"Race?"

"No."

Severino stared at Jack for almost a full minute. As Jack's jaw tightened, he could feel the sweat form on his back. Jack had been called on the carpet ever since he could remember. In school, it was a weekly visit to the princ.i.p.al's office. In the Army, he had true experts try to stare him down. They didn't come close to Severino's cold examination.

"You got anything else?" Severino finally snapped.

Jack shook his head.

"You did your bit. Now get out."

Jack met his gaze. "If you get a call, I need you to let me know."

Severino looked at the floor before he raised his eyes again. "You think I'd go to the cops? You? For help?" He pounded his chest. "I'll get my daughter myself. ME. Since you had the b.a.l.l.s to come here, I'm going to repeat myself. Get the h.e.l.l out while I let you keep them." He turned and smashed everything the two men had been putting on the desk back off. Severino stood there, panting and glaring at Jack.

Jack felt Paolo's hand on his arm, and he looked at the old man. Paolo's eyebrows raised and he looked to the door.

He isn't threatening me. He's helping.