Becoming the Hitman (Zanetti Famiglia Book 5) Page 2

  He clears his throat, then sits back. “The trail, though it was cold to begin with, it is just frozen solid, Siobahn. I wish that I had better news for you, but alas, I do not.”

  “What about the man? The one I’ve heard rumors of?” I demand.

  Connor’s gaze shifts to the side, then he looks back at me, but his eyes don’t meet mine. He’s about to lie to me. I know that he is, but I don’t think that I could get the answers from him, even if I tried.

  “Do not go asking questions about things you don’t know about. The best advice that I can give you is to just simply live your life, Siobahn. Live the life that Emilyn would have wanted you to live.”

  Leaning forward, I try really hard not to growl. “I can’t live that life and do you know why?” I ask. Without giving him a moment to even respond, I continue. “All Emilyn wanted to do was move in with me when she was older. She wanted to live with me and my family. She doesn’t get to do that, so I don’t get to move on, Connor.”

  He stands to his feet, but I’m not letting him walk away from me without a fight. He holds up his hand and I watch him turn and walk over to the wastebasket. He throws his paper coffee cup away, but before he turns back around, I open the file that’s sitting between us and snatch the papers inside.

  Slipping them into my big purse, I zip it up quickly before he can return. I want all of the research he’s conducted. Whatever he found, it is enough to scare him into silence. I aim to find out exactly what that is. I’m finding Emilyn, even if it costs me my life, I will find my baby sister.

  Connor returns, giving me a sad smile, and reaches for the folder. I try not to look down, keeping my gaze focused on his as he reaches out with his other hand. I feel his fingers grip my shoulder and he gently squeezes me.

  “Do yourself a favor, Siobahn. Remember the good times, get some professional help, and try to heal.”

  Instead of telling him to fuck right off, I look up at him and nod my head once, meeting his sad smile with one of my own.

  “I’ll try,” I lie with a shaky breath.

  He nods his head once, his lips curving into an even bigger smile. “You’ll be okay, kid.”

  His hand drops, he turns, and he walks away, his head held high as if he’s done something really fucking grand for me. Standing, I walk over to the same wastebasket and throw my own cup away. Turning toward the back of the coffee house, I slip outside and walk toward the bus stop.

  I stand at the bus stop for another minute, then when the bus doesn’t show, I decide to go somewhere to read these papers. They are burning a hole in my purse. I have to know exactly what they say, what he found. I can’t stand it another moment longer.

  With my head down, I hitch my purse farther up my shoulder and head toward the library. My feet carry me toward the back and I sink down into a chair, my back against the wall, I dig the papers out of my purse and set them down in front of me.

  Chewing on my bottom lip, I wonder if I should look. Maybe there is something here that I really don’t need to see. Maybe there is something here that is going to change my life forever. Does it matter though? Even if it is the worst news imaginable, my life is already pointless.

  I work, I go home to my drunk father, and every Sunday I take roses to the headstone our mother lies beneath, in the cold ground. I should be married, maybe starting a family, but I don’t date. I don’t do anything. I am a shadow girl. That is all.

  Pinching my eyes closed, I dip my chin and slowly open them, my gaze landing on the paperwork in front of me. I see some names that I don’t understand. Orin Murphy. Taking my phone out, I touch the Safari app and put in that name.

  Orin Murphy.

  Not much comes up, but when I start looking past the first page of Google, I find something of interest. There is a picture of this Orin Murphy with some sort of politician, at least that’s what it looks like. They’re standing next to a plane, shaking hands.

  Touching the photo with my finger, it takes me to an article. Scanning the article, I read through. It seems that Mr. Murphy produces and exports pharmaceuticals, mainly heterocycles, nucleic acids—whatever those are.

  The man that he’s standing with is some bigwig in the export commission service.

  This is him. This is the man who is trafficking women out of Ireland and to the US. It must be. There is no other reason that Connor had his name written down and circled. This is the man who took Emilyn.

  Taking a screenshot of the photograph, I slip my thumb in my mouth and start to chew on the corner of my nail. What do I do now that I have this information? It’s not proof. It won’t do any good to take it to the police. They’ll simply laugh in my face.

  I have to catch him in the act.

  It’s all I can do.

  I have to catch him either taking a woman or be kidnapped myself. Not really wanting to think of either plan, I start to really comb through the notes that Connor made. There are street names, building names, and coordinates.

  “I never fancied myself a detective, but nobody is going to look for Emilyn or even attempt to find her,” I whisper to myself. “I am her only advocate.”

  I will find my sister. She’s not dead. I can feel it deep in my bones. She is alive, and she’s waiting for me. I know that she must be frightened. I know that she must be hurt, but I will find her. I will not rest until she is where she said she always wanted to be.

  Living with me.

  RENZO

  “Ireland?” I grunt. “Why?”

  Gavino leans back in his chair, his gaze catching mine from across the desk. His lips are in a firm line and he closes his eyes for just a moment before he opens them and focuses on me.

  “I don’t trust this man. I need you to go and see what he’s truly doing. Some of these girls, they don’t seem to be here voluntarily. I think he’s trafficking, truly trafficking girls, and that is not what I signed up for or agreed to. I’m sending him warm, willing bodies and I’m getting scared young girls in return.”

  “And what happens when I find out the truth of it? What’s going to happen then?”

  He leans forward. “He dies. But not before you find out where all of my women have gone.”

  I shake my head. “Vino, it’s been years.”

  He smirks. “I don’t care, cugino. I want what I want. I’m trying to run an empire here, and this is another cog in the wheel that I want handled. I can trust you?”

  He poses it as a question, but I’ve known Gavino Santoro my entire life. It is not a question. “You can.”

  “Good.”

  There is a soft knock on the door and he calls in whoever is on the other side, our conversation apparently finished. I smirk at the sight of the little brown-haired beauty that runs straight for her father.

  “Is this Paola?” I ask.

  She turns to me once she’s climbed up on her father’s knee and perched herself right where she belongs. Gavino wraps one arm around her middle, keeping her steady on his leg. She reaches forward and places her hands on the desk, lifting her eyes to meet mine.

  “I am Paola Santoro,” she announces firmly.

  “I am Renzo Pagano, principessa,” I say with a small smile.

  Her serious face lights up and a smile widens on her mouth. “Would you like to have tea with me? Mamma has made tea and cakes. She does it once a week. You are lucky that is today.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head. “I am sorry, little principessa, I cannot today. Perhaps next time?”

  She tilts her head to the side, as if she is truly thinking about the offer. I watch as she presses her lips together, then shifts her gaze toward me. She nods her head once, her mouth curving up into a grin.

  “Si, next time,” she states.

  “Grazi,” I murmur as I rise to my feet.

  Gavino jerks his chin, his green gaze finding mine. “You do this, you take care of this, and the payout is high.”

  “The payout is important, but I do this out of loyalty for the famiglia.” I make
sure that he’s looking at in my direction before I continue, that he’s looking directly into my eyes. “For you, Vino.”

  He dips his chin. “Meet with a man named Sullivan. He will pick you up at the airport. He is my only contact. I know that I don’t have to tell you, Renzo, but I will anyway. Trust no one. You are there to get information, to report back to me, and to get rid of a problem, should one be found.”

  With a jerk of my head, my lips twitch. “Next time, principessa,” I offer with a smile.

  She grins up at me. “Si.”

  Shifting my gaze back up to meet Gavino’s, I level him with my eyes. “If what you suspect is true and the problem is eradicated, what next?”

  Gavino slowly shakes his head once. “I do not know,” he simply states. “I will have to wait on the outcome first, then go from there.”

  Leaving him, I head outside toward my Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV. I love this car. Every year I buy the new model and black it out, just like the previous one. It’s the one thing in my life that constantly changes, yet stays the same.

  I prefer things to be comfortable, constant, and flow. My apartment is one that I’ve had since ending my father’s life. Once he was gone, so was my attachment to him and being forced to live under his roof.

  Once he was gone, his money was automatically transferred to me as his sole heir, and naturally, he had no will in place. At least that’s what Salvatore, the Consigliere promised me. I used a small portion of his money and bought a condo in Brooklyn overlooking the East River, right by the Williamsburg Bridge.

  I hired someone to decorate the place, simple and masculine, which means no fucking throw pillows in sight. It’s a two-bedroom, two-bath, with an outdoor patio space.

  All the things I wanted, because when you were raised by Lorenzo Pagano, Sr., you want some fresh fucking air sometimes. I wanted to be by the water just so that I could look out at the world, look out at the city and just breathe.

  You don’t realize what a simple pleasure breath can be until it’s been restricted. Until you’ve been forced to sit in a dark, dank, small space and oxygen is a commodity that you simply do not have enough of.

  Starting the engine of my Benz, I roll down the windows, also something that I do quite often, keep my windows rolled down. I clear my throat and shift the car into drive, heading toward the last place I should be going.

  What I should do is head toward home and start to pack for this trip. What I actually do is make my way toward a bit of physical relief.

  Chapter Two

  RENZO

  Normally, I have several regular women that I visit. All are professional. All provide a service that I pay for. I’m under no illusion that being Made makes their service discounted or free. Typically, I visit one of the houses, pay my respects and fee to the Madams and climb the stairs.

  This time I am doing something different. I am going to kill two birds with one stone. Sure, Gavino gave me what he had on Orin Murphy, but what is in the file is minimal. I want to know more and until I get there and actually research it myself, this is just one way that I can find out more about the man himself.

  Mia lifts her head as I walk into the room. Her lips twitch into a small smile and she shakes her head once.

  “You don’t normally grace me with your presence, Renzo. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she purrs.

  Her lips are painted red, her dress black and tight. She’s ready for the evening, obviously doing some work before the guests arrive.

  Making my way up to her counter, I place my palms flat on the top and lean over. “Usually, I would follow that greeting up with some kind of response about pleasuring you, but I have something else on my mind tonight.”

  She laughs softly, reaching out, the tip of her red-painted nail slides up my index finger and stops before she touches the back of my palm. “You think highly of yourself, Renzo.”

  I snort. I don’t need to think highly of myself, but whatever. Arching a brow, I clear my throat then lean forward slightly and grin over at her.

  “I need an Irish girl. Someone fairly new.”

  I watch as she presses her lips together, then she shakes her head once, her brows drawing together as she shifts her gaze away from mine for a brief moment then shifts her eyes back to meet mine.

  “Renzo…” she begins, her voice in a warning tone.

  I don’t relent or back down. I watch her and I wait, my desire clear. I don’t need to explain shit to her, but if she thinks that I’m going to somehow hurt one of her girls, she obviously doesn’t know a fucking thing about me.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask.

  Mia sighs, then shakes her head one single time. “No. It’s just, they aren’t very well trained. The only one I have available right now, she’s timid.”

  I smirk, my tongue sliding across my bottom lip. “I don’t mind, Mia. I can be patient.”

  “Somehow I highly doubt that,” she grumbles, taking a step back from her counter. “Come on.”

  Turning to face her, I follow as she makes her way over to a door. She does whatever it is she needs to do to open the door and makes her way inside. Once I’m past the doorway, I notice that we’re in a hall.

  It seems as though it’s a long, dark hall, with nothing but doors on either side. “These are private rooms, and then in the back are the offices. Each room is already cleaned and dedicated to clients for this evening. You’ll have to use one of the public ones,” she announces, clearly irritated at me for showing up and demanding someone at the last minute.

  “Are those any less clean?” I ask on a chuckle.

  She stops, then looks over her shoulder at me, lifting a brow. “Renzo,” she sighs. “Don’t be vile.”

  Laughing softly, I reach out for her and take her wrist in my hand. “You know that I am only joking, Mia. Don’t be like that.”

  Mia grunts, then turns her head, shakes my grip away, and continues down the hall. She turns toward a door and touches something there, causing it to open. There is another hallway, except this time the rooms on either side have clear glass windows that you can see inside of.

  “For others to watch?” I ask.

  She shrugs a shoulder. “We aren’t the BDSM club, but people will have their kinks, Renzo. There is a curtain on the other side, you can close it. They have been cleaned, which means I’ll have to have yours re-cleaned once you’re finished,” she announces with a heavy sigh.

  “Want me to pay extra, is that what this is about?” I ask.

  Mia shakes her head once. “No,” she grunts. “I’m mostly irritated with your demand for a woman immediately and of a newer Irish one at that. You don’t know what you’re asking and I’m frankly a bit uncomfortable with it all.”

  “Would it make you feel better to call Gavino? He’ll approve of my request.”

  “Will he?” she asks, then she takes a step toward me, tipping her head back. “What are you up to?” she asks.

  I shrug a shoulder. “Can’t tell you the details. It’s famiglia business, but trust me when I tell you that this isn’t just about getting off,” I explain.

  “But you’ll be getting off?” she asks.

  My lips twitch into a smirk. “Do you need to ask that?”

  Mia rolls her eyes. “That’s your room. I’ll send her over in just a few minutes.”

  She leaves me and I watch her sweet ass in her tight skirt as she walks away until she rounds the corner and is out of sight. Only then do I slip inside of the room and close the door behind me.

  Making my way over to the plain wrought iron bed, I sit down on the satin black fitted sheet with a sigh and tug my phone out of my jacket pocket. Logging into my bank, I send an email to my bank account manager to let her know that I’ll be accessing my money from Ireland for the foreseeable future, so not to flag my cards as being stolen.

  Then I send an email to my housekeeper to let her know that after tonight, I won’t need her services for a few weeks, but that her checks will conti
nue being direct deposited in her account. I know that she has a family to feed and me leaving on short notice and not paying her would be a dick move.

  My next email is to my grocery service asking them to cancel future orders. I’m a creature of habit, my grocery list is never changing, the same foods being delivered on the same day, every single week.

  There is a soft knock on the door that alerts me to my guest’s arrival. Tossing my phone onto the small table next to the bed, I clear my throat and call out for her to enter. The door slowly opens and I’m taken aback at the sight of her.

  She’s beautiful, but young. Typically, I prefer a woman closer to my own age, or at least somewhere near legal enough to consume alcohol. This girl looks exactly like that, a girl. She slowly makes her way toward me, sinking down to her knees at my feet without saying a single word.

  Reaching down, I cup her cheek with my hand. “What’s your name?” I ask.

  Her lips twitch and she shakes her head. “Does it matter?” Her accent is as thick as her curling blonde hair.

  “It doesn’t, but I’m here for more than just a chance to get off.”

  “Are you?”

  Chuckling, I press the pad of my thumb against her bottom lip. “I am, but we’ll talk after. Still like to know your name, girl.”

  Her tongue peeks out, tasting my thumb before she sucks my digit into her mouth. When she releases it on a pop, her lips turn up into a timid smile.

  “Robin. It’s my name.”

  SIOBAHN

  My stomach cramps as I crouch down behind the bushes and watch. It’s freezing cold, the grass, bushes, and dirt that surround me are damp and making it seem so much colder. I can’t move though. I have been here since before dark.

  I have been here lying in wait.

  I’m not sure if he will be here tonight. I have no clue if this is even where he will appear, but I do know that if I don’t try, I will feel as though I could have known. I’ll feel as though I could have seen something.