issues.”
He nods with a knowing expression. “Say no more. We all have our fair share. Just don’t let it ruin your day.”
“I’ll try.” At that notion, my cell phone rings. “It’s my mother,” I say in a way that says I need privacy for a moment.
He holds his hands up and backs away with an apologetic smile.
I pick up the phone. “Hi.”
“What is this I hear, that you were out clubbing with Sienna?” she screams into the phone.
I have to hold it away from my ear.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“We needed a night to let loose. It’s been a crazy few days.”
“Crazy? You don’t even know just how pazzo this can be! This isn’t a game, Amelia. Rocco is dead!”
My stomach drops, and I think I’m going to be sick. “He’s dead?”
“Your father called with the news. He was beaten to death!” she cries.
My hand flies to my mouth in shock. I saw him last night at the club when he tried to abduct me. Jesse fought him off, but Rocco was alive when we left him in the alleyway.
Wasn’t he?
“Where … where was he found?” I dare to ask.
“I don’t know all the details, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Beaten and bloody. His body was found in his car in some back alley. When we find that brutto figlio di puttana bastardo”—I can hear her pacing and panting as she calls the supposed killer an ugly son of a bitch bastard in Italian—“he’s going to wish he never touched Rocco.” She gasps. “He was a good man.”
“No, he wasn’t,” I say quickly but instantly regret it.
“What are you talking about? Amelia Grace, you do not speak ill of the dead that way.”
I need to tell my mother how he forcibly tried to get me into his car last night, but then she’d want to know how I got away, and I’d implicate Jesse. If Rocco died at his hands, he’ll go to jail, I’m certain.
I rub my forehead and take a deep breath. “He was following me. It took me a while to figure it out. He was always showing up right after I did. I even saw his car at the bus stop. He was watching me, Mom. I know it. Ask Dad if he was having Rocco tail me. I think …” I pause and wonder if my assumption is even worth repeating. I know what happened last night. Rocco wasn’t there with good intentions. I felt it in his force. “I think he was working two sides.”
I’m jittery as I wait for my mother to respond. I can picture her playing with the medallion around her neck. It’s of the Blessed Mother.
“That sounds ludicrous. Rocco was a trusted adviser.”
“And Dad only does sanitation,” I say. I might not know a lot about what my father’s business dealings are, but I’m aware there’s more to the story than I’ve been told all these years.
“Watch your words, Amelia.” Her tone is telling, and I instantly get the feeling that she’s telling me our call is being recorded.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, wondering when my life became a bad movie plot. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Stay alert.”
“I will.”
We hang up, and I lean back in my seat and close my eyes—the exact opposite of being alert.
This week might be crazy, but I’m glad I’m in this office. The fluorescent lights and gray cubicles make me feel like I’m in the most boring place on earth. A welcome location when everything else is so … exciting—and not in a good way.
My bag is sitting on my desk. I sit up and grab it, opening the zipper to get Jesse’s matchbook out. I need to call him and let him know Rocco is dead. It’s possible Rocco’s death is his doing. If not, then someone else was there last night.
I lift my phone to call him. Something holds me back. Could my phone be tapped too?
Lack of control is not a strong suit of mine.
My computer is sitting idle with the work I need to accomplish for the day. I log back in and get on task. If control is what I need, this is a sure way to seize some of it. This job is something I’ve worked hard for. My financial independence means a lot to me, as does a career I can feel proud of.
I work until it’s time for the staff meeting. The select group of people who are