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In that moment, two things become crystal clear:
One, Olivia didn’t kill herself.
Two, I’m about to join her.
12
KONSTANTIN
MINUTES EARLIER
“You sure about this?”Sima cranes his neck in the driver’s seat to look up at the apartment.
In the few short hours I’ve landed in New York, I’ve already tracked down a number of Ferrata men.
Unlike the stubborn fool in the Amalfi Coast, these weremucheasier to crack.
And even though they were clueless to the full details, they’ve provided enough information to tell me that this rundown walkup in East Bushwick is the last place that Alisa was taken to.
I squint through the tinted windows in the back seat at the building.
Its brick facade is chipped and stained by questionable liquids. There’s nobody outside, almost as if people know better than to walk around this area alone.
But the part that concerns me the most is just how close it is to the airport.
It’s less than a twenty-minute drive.
Sima might be right. There’s no way they’d keep her here.
But I have to be sure.
“This is the place.” Feeling for the comfort of the gun in my jacket, I open the car door. “Stay here.”
“I should come with you.” Sima taps his fingers on the steering wheel rapidly. “You don’t know what you’ll find in there.”
“I’m more afraid of finding nothing,” I reply. “Stay here and discourage the curious.Eto moi prikaz.”
“Konchecno.” He nods.
Stepping out from the car, I walk quickly over the cracked sidewalk toward the front steps of the apartment.
This place looks like shit.
The windows on the bottom level are protected by rusted bars. Trash bags are oozing on the curb.
My fingers wander to the gun in my jacket as my mind is lured into one of my many vengeful fantasies. I picture screams, explosions, and dark smoke that chokes hordes of my rivals. I see myself walking across their broken bodies on my way to take out Augusto and his son.
I imagine the old man falling on his knees and begging me not to kill them both.
I run my tongue over my teeth.
I’ll make every single person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance pay.
With interest.
The front door isn’t fully closed, and as I climb the stairs, someone cracks open their door. A single wary eye gawks at me before the door slams shut. The tell-tale click of a bolt locking fills my ears. I keep my hand on my weapon.
The residents here might be Ferrata informants for all I know.
