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I smile. “Did you not hear what I said?”
Dom turns on his boot heel and pauses. “I heard you. Tomorrow night.”
After the meeting, Tanaka called Hank to help with the cleanup, which meant my ride would stay at the house for a while longer, presumably well into the night. I want to get home to my wife and see what she’s been up to because I have this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me my wife has been up to no good.
Beneath the weekend house, the parking garage sensors make popping sounds as they light up the space housing seven vehicles and three motorcycles. At the top of the stairs, I survey the garage, my gaze falling on Severio’s Harley Davidson motorcycle.
When he first bought it, I thought it didn’t fit him and wasn’t his style, but when he shed the suit in favor of jeans and a leather jacket along with boots and fired up the engine, the serene look on his face made me think Severio was born to ride.
The sleek black sports bike next to it? That one’s mine. From the closet downstairs, I grab a leather jacket, gloves, and my sister’s helmet. As I rev the engine, my blood starts pumping in anticipation of the ride into the city.
I secure a smaller helmet in the back, then don mine, and the second the garage door allows the bike through, I gas it, ducking under the still-opening garage door, in a hurry to get home to my wife.
I chuckle under my breath.
My wife.
26
WHERE'S MY WIFE?
CORRADO
The second I enter the parking garage of the Manhattan apartment, I know my wife isn’t here. I know this because her car’s missing. On the one hand, she finally took the damn car I bought her. On the other hand, I expected her to be here at ten at night, but she used the car as a getaway vehicle.
I park my bike in her slot for a moment, considering going upstairs and retiring for the night, but I doubt I could relax without knowing her whereabouts. Pretty sure the order for installing our app on Michela’s phone went through. I open the app marked with a blue serpent on a pot of gold and search for our linked accounts.
Nothing there.
I dial Hank, and he answers on the second ring.
“Sir?”
“I know you’ve got your hands full, but I need to know if our app is on my wife’s phone.”
“It isn’t, sir. Your brother blocked the order.”
Ah. “When?”
“This afternoon. Right after Gemma linked her profile with yours.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“You were in a meeting.”
I’m silent while I consider how to handle this. Hank knows not to double-check if I’m still on the line just because I’m not speaking.
“Hank?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From now on, anything having to do with my wife is considered a priority. Unless I’m dead, you will notify me immediately of anything you think I should handle with regard to her.” I hang up and think about dialing my brother, but I want to cool off a bit before I speak with him.
Instead, I dial Gemma, then think better of it and pocket the phone. I rest my fists on my hips, throw my head back, and close my eyes for a moment while I think of places Michela could be at this hour. She could be either at her house or in bed so she can get up early in the morning and start her new job.
Because she never intended to move in with me.
And that won’t do.
