I was right. Gabriel Marchese had commissioned the cage. Not my uncle. He’d told the smith what he’d wanted, given several photographs of my house. He’d even given him the piece of music for one compartment and had wanted a second, secret compartment.
He’d also had him destroy the plans once he’d paid for the cage.
My uncle wouldn’t have known about the second compartment. He wouldn’t have known that he’d be delivering his own confession in that gift.
He partnered with Marchese and Marchese fucked him.
Although I wonder how long they’ve been partners.
What I found in that second compartment was a thumb drive. I assumed the pellets inside it were just to keep it from rattling around in the little pocket. Without a thought, I’d left the food at the bottom of the cage when I’d retrieved the drive. My guess is the birds had eaten those pellets of food and died. To be sure, though, I’ve already sent a sample for testing.
I don’t like to see Gabriela upset, don’t like her to lose one more thing, even if they are just birds. But what’s more important is what I found.
On that drive were photographs and voice recordings.
I know now how that second boat arrived so quickly when Gabriela turned to her father for help after Alex’s murder. I wonder if that’s the reason Marchese is fucking with my uncle because my uncle fucked with him.
Although I can’t be sure on that. They could have been in on it together from the start. But would Marchese have given his permission for his own daughter to be left at the bottom of a well? He’s an evil prick, but isn’t that too far even for him?
It doesn’t matter. Either way, they both fucked me.
But Marchese wanted me to learn the truth. Or at least his manipulated version of it.
When I’d asked Rafa to get Gabriela’s phone set up, to add the phone numbers and make sure she had what she needed, he’d added something else. Something I wasn’t aware of. He’d added spyware that could track her calls, her keystrokes, location. All of it. I’m sure her new phone has the same.
One of the voice recordings on the drive is from Rafa to his father on the night Gabriela was kidnapped telling him she was on the move and that Marchese’s men were coming for her via the cove.
Now, did Rafa’s father and Marchese plan the second boat together? Or was that purely my uncle’s doing? Marchese wouldn’t know that his conversation with his daughter had been picked up. He wouldn’t know that another enemy would be out there too, once she was far enough away from land and too far for me to protect her.
In all the speculation, I am certain about three things:
Marchese is my enemy.
My uncle is my enemy.
Rafa is my enemy.
Rafa.
Christ.
The photos of him are the most damning. Overkill even. Did Marchese intend on hurting me personally somehow by showing me over and over and over again the many times Rafa betrayed me? Betrays me still.
But why?
Why would Rafa betray me? What does he have to gain by that? Is it as simple as seeking his father’s approval? Christ. How pathetic if that’s it.
I get up, brush my hand through my hair. I walk out of the study and to the man standing at the patio.
“Is she still down there?”
He nods. “She’s on the phone with her brother is what I’m told.”
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, swipe the green bar when I see it’s Lucas, the man overseeing the surveillance of both Rafa’s house and my uncle’s.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Rafa’s got company,” Lucas says.
“Who?”
“Your cousin. Clara.”
“Clara? She’s in Syracuse.”
“Not anymore she’s not. Want us to go in?”
“No. Not yet. I’m on my way.”
“Stefan, is that a good idea?” Lucas asks. He’s been around a long time. Served my father before me. He knows our family. And he’s warned about the Catalano family since the day of my father’s death.
“It’s a fine idea.” My voice comes tight and short as I walk out of the house and tell one of my men to have the Bugatti brought around.
“I know that family, Stefan. I’ve known them longer than you. They’re no good. Your father knew it, too.”
I don’t like that. I don’t like hearing it. But maybe it’s more true than I’m willing to accept.
“Thank you, Lucas. I appreciate that.”
I disconnect the call and a few minutes later, I’m driving on my own to Rafa’s house because I have to. I have to see for myself. Hear for myself. I have to know.
27
Stefan
My head isn’t any clearer by the time I park the car and walk up to Rafa’s front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell when I hear Clara’s flirty laughter coming from the back of the house. I walk around, opening the gate quietly as I do.
But it’s not quiet enough. Rafa’s no fool.
Before I’m two steps in, he’s come around the corner, pistol in hand, his face hard.
I’m not surprised by his sudden, armed appearance. It’s one of the reasons he’s my right-hand man.
“Rafa,” I say, seeing him with different eyes.
He uncocks the gun and tucks it into the back of his jeans. “Stefan,” he starts, and I note that he is surprised. Anxious even. “What are you doing here?”
I walk toward him. I can feel how hard my expression is and I need to concentrate to keep it level.
“I wanted a drink,” I say.
In the time it takes me to answer him, he’s schooled his features and now gives me an easy smile. At least it’s meant to look easy. Now that I’m paying attention, though, I see it’s not. Not really.
“Well, then I have a surprise.” We walk around the back of the property and I find Clara sitting on the patio.
“Tada!” she announces, standing, stretching her arms wide.
“Clara dropped by out of the blue,” Rafa says.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say, kissing each of Clara’s cheeks when I get to her. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in Syracuse?”
“Ugh, Stefan,” she starts, sitting back down and picking up her glass of wine. “Syracuse is the most boring place on earth.”
“I offered to move you to Rome.”
“I’d rather be here, in Palermo. With my two favorite cousins,” she says, smiling up at Rafa who is still standing.
“You’re alone again?” Rafa asks. His tone is so opposite Clara’s light one.
I nod.
“I told you. You can’t do that, Stef. There are people who…” he trails off.
“I can take care of myself, Rafa. And besides, you’re here. I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “What can I get you to drink?”
I see he’s drinking a Peroni. “Beer’s fine.”
He disappears into the house.
Clara sits back, taking a cigarette from what I assume is Rafa’s pack and lighting one. She folds one leg over the other and studies me as she exhales smoke.