1.

LUCA

"What the fuck is up with Zach?" I asked my brother as our friend lost his shit on someone who had called him. "Overreact much?"

"Right? Just hang up the phone. Damn," Matteo mumbled.

Finally, Zach did just that, and Sam raised his eyebrows and asked Zach, "A little rough on the poor guy making cold calls, no?" His official title was Hotel Security Manager, but in reality, Sam was the glue that held the four families together.

"They're not cold calls! Every fucking time the phone rings, it's someone else trying to confirm an appointment for one thing or another, and they all have to do with my ass!"

"Your ass?" Matteo asked him.

"Colonoscopy, rectal exams, colon cleansing . . . You name it, and I've had someone call me about it in the last week."

"Maybe it's the universe telling you that you should get a checkup," I suggested. "On average, more than thirty-five hundred people under the age of fifty die from the disease each year."

"How do you know this shit?" Zach asked. When I shrugged, he looked at my twin before he said, "It's so weird when you seem like the normal one."

"Isn't that the truth?" Sam mumbled before he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. Trying to get us back on topic, he said, "I've got some information on the surrogate as well as Genovese and Frank."

"You found her?" Zach asked.

"I think so."

"Are they connected?" Zach asked. "That's really going to fuck with Brett if they are."

The new woman in my friend's life had really thrown him for a loop. Brett and her daughter had swooped in like a tornado and turned his life upside down. He had been resistant at first, but I saw that the changes in him were for the better and was honestly a little jealous knowing that he was working his way toward a future with them.

Zach's father, a worthless and abusive son of a bitch whose death my brother and I had helped plan, had a girlfriend named Rebecca before he died who was now trying her hardest to get a slice of the Campana fortune. Her last-ditch effort had come up short when she died suddenly while waiting on the surrogate she hired to give birth to the twins she was planning to use to usurp Zach's family legacy.

Oddly enough, the surrogate wasn't a woman she found through a service but the best friend of her estranged and grown daughter, Brett - a woman who hated Rebecca with a passion. The surrogacy had put a rift between Brett and Tabitha, and they had lost contact just a few weeks before Rebecca's death. Now, Zach was scrambling to find the surrogate before his enemies did, and luckily, Sam had a lead.

Brett had mentioned that the source of their argument was Tabitha's connection to Rebecca, a woman who made the vengeful and greedy stepmothers from childhood cartoons look like sweethearts. I couldn't imagine what she'd think if she found out that Tabitha was connected to Frank Bovino or his brother, who wasn't much better.

It hurt Zach to know that his godfather, Genovese Bovino, a man he had trusted for so long, had gone to the dark side, per se. Of course, Geno might have always been coordinating with his brother Frank, but I liked to think that Geno was sincere in his concern for all of us when we were younger. He'd been a pivotal influence in our lives and taught us a lot over the years. At the same time, he had shielded Zach from some of the harshest truths about his father.

We now knew that Geno probably wasn't doing that for Zach's benefit but for his own since being the right-hand man to Zach's father had given him influence he wouldn't have had otherwise.

"In a way," Sam hedged. "Okay, it looks like they are. I'm not gonna lie."

"Shit," I said succinctly.

"What did you find?" Zach asked.

Sam looked up and said, "She's bartending at The Cork."

Zach wrinkled his nose and asked, "How is that place still open?"

"It's changed some since you were younger," Sam said mysteriously. "It's a hopping joint now."

"A ‘hopping joint'? What decade are you living in?" Matteo asked. "Are Frank and Geno still the owners?"

"I believe so. The property was transferred to a shell corporation that I've tracked to France. I've still got some research to do, but I do know that's where Geno went after he faked his death. There were some whispers that Frank lived just outside of Paris at about the same time, so it makes sense."

"I don't remember that bar," I said thoughtfully.

"It was a shithole," Zach said with disgust. "I always assumed he was using it to launder money."

"And you were right. However, it was rebuilt into a totally different establishment after the fire, and the new management team has been turning a hefty profit since they took over."

"It burned down?" Matteo asked Sam.

"Arson," Zach answered. "Geno pissed off the Cubans, and they torched the place because they thought he was inside."

"He ended up making a bundle off the insurance, so I've always wondered if that wasn't a planned event," Sam mused. "But that's neither here nor there. Their new bartender is a heavily pregnant woman who has all the patrons eating out of the palm of her hand. Rumor has it that she's even living with the manager."

"At least she's still in the States," Matteo said as he relaxed in his chair. As he tipped his head back, he said, "One of us should go in and get to know her . . . try to attain some information about the Bovinos' location and their connection to the Russians."

"I'll do it," Zach said firmly.

"I don't think that will work," Sam argued. "She was living with Rebecca when she died. She's probably at least seen your picture in some of your father's things. I think it would be better if one of the twins handled this."

With a shrug, I offered, "I'll put on the charm and see what I can find out."

"Are you going to tell Brett that we might have found her?" Matteo asked Zach.

Zach shook his head. "Not until we know for sure that it's her. And I'd like to see what information Luca can get before Brett goes storming in to rescue her friend."

"I'm on it," I assured them as I pushed my chair back. "Are we finished here?"

"That's really all I've got," Sam said with a shrug.

"I'll stop by this evening then."

"Good luck," Matteo told me. "Let me know what you find so I can jump in if I need to."

"Will do."

I wanted to change clothes before I went to visit the bar in question, and since I hadn't slept much last night, I thought a coffee might help perk me up for the task ahead, so I took the elevator down to the hub that connected the four towers of The Castello.

The towers were for permanent residents, and the top of them were reserved for each of the four families. My brother and I shared the top floor of the southwest tower which had been split into two large apartments so that we had our own spaces. Our homes were two stories and connected by a large foyer that split off into our private offices, a conference room we used on occasion, and a private gym. Matteo and I also shared the rooftop space just like Cento and Tonio Moretti shared the northwest tower, Rico Romano and his brother, Ziggy, shared the southeast tower, and Zach shared the northeast tower with Rico's daughter, Constance.

The Castello was so large that even if we were all out on our rooftop gardens at the same time, we wouldn't be able to communicate with each other. It gave each of us our own little corner of the world, secluded from the bustling city, so high up that we could barely hear the traffic on the busy streets below, but also safe from those same streets and the enemies we had made on them.

Right now, the rooftop was an oasis I'd like to enjoy, but there was too much going on to relax. I needed to gather my troops and get them updated on what needed to be accomplished tonight - making contact with the elusive woman we'd all been searching for. We'd been looking for Tabitha for almost a month now with no luck, and I hoped that she was the woman I'd find tonight at The Cork.

But first, I needed to get coffee to recharge.

The hub was a large space that held a state-of-the-art gym, a few restaurants, a bar, and a coffee shop for the long-term residents of the hotel. Guests of the hotel couldn't access this floor or any of the ones above it, so it wasn't nearly as busy as the ground floors of The Castello where there were even more restaurants, bars, and boutiques along with many other businesses.

To get from Zach's office where we'd held the meeting with Sam, I had to use his private elevator to go down to the hub, exit the secured hall he shared with Constance Romano, who had the other apartment in his tower, and then cross over to the hall where my own bank of elevators was located. I'd use the private car to go up to my place and then take it all the way to the ground floor after I'd changed. As I was walking toward the coffee and pastry shop, I passed several residents that I recognized either from personal business or because they were famous for one reason or another.

The Castello housed celebrities, musicians, athletes, and business people from all over the world and was known for protecting their privacy whether they were a guest or permanent resident. That came in handy on occasion since there were cameras everywhere that tracked who went where and with whom just in case we ever needed to use their adventures against them for some reason.

I passed a seating area with couches, chairs, and a few small desks for residents to use, and recognized my friend Constance's profile.

I leaned over the back of the couch and whispered, "Boo!"

She didn't jump, but she did crack a smile before she said, "Hi, Mattuca."

I rolled my eyes at her nickname but knew that as soon as I walked around the couch to stand in front of her, she would be able to recognize me.

"Are you going to be here for a minute?" I asked.

Stan laughed for a second, but it didn't take long to realize there was no humor in it. That was confirmed when she said, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Let's get some coffee and go up to my place. You can tell me what's going on."

"I'm sure you have other things to do."

"Not right this minute, Stan. You're more important than what I had planned anyway."

"Are you sure? I could really use some advice from a man's perspective."

"Does it have something to do with that stuff I saw online about you and the rockstar?" Constance sighed, and that was my answer. "Come on, sorellina. Let me buy you a drink."

◆◆◆

TABBY

"What are you making for dinner?" Simon asked as he walked into the kitchen.

I used my pinky, one of my only fingers that wasn't covered with pasta dough, to touch the tablet and pause the video that was playing before I said, "Homemade pasta with marinara. Oh! And I made meatballs."

"You're still watching that guy?" Simon asked as he stepped up beside me and looked down at the screen. "Just looking at him makes me want to get things started in the kitchen."

"Pervert," I chided as I bumped him with my hip. "Are you sure you don't want me to cover a shift tonight? I could wait tables."

"No. You need to take time off now and then, Bumpkin. What would people think, knowing that you're baking my little hoagie rolls in there and I won't let you take a night off."

"The common saying is bun in the oven, Si."

"I like buns, but bread is a whole different subject."

"What I need to do is pack a bag and take Ember to Darlene's for a night so you can do something debauched and immoral and finally get your mind out of the gutter."

"It has been a while," Si mused. "No! I gave up one-night stands for lent."

"You're not Catholic, Simon."

"And?"

"Do you even know what Lent is?"

"No."

"Better yet, do you even know when it is?"

"Also no."

"It ended twenty days ago. You really need to get laid."

"You might be right." Simon shook his head. "No! I'm not doing it! If you're not getting laid, then neither am I."

"Look at me, Si. The last thing I want to think about right now is sex."

"It might improve your mood," Si mumbled as he walked around the counter to take a seat.

"I am almost seven months pregnant with twins. Absolutely nothing could improve my mood at this point."

"I have something that's going to make it even worse."

"Shit. What now? Did another customer complain about my attitude?"

"Another?"

I gave him a fake smile and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The customers love you, Bumpkin. Especially when you throw around that Southern charm."

I fanned my face with my hand and, in a syrupy sweet accent that would make Scarlett O'Hara roll her eyes, said, "Whatever do you mean?"

"It doesn't work on me."

I shrugged. "It was worth a try. What's the bad news?"

"There was a man asking about you last night."

"What?Who?"

"He didn't exactly leave his business card, but Reynaldo easily figured out exactly who he was."

"Who?"

"A Russian mobster."

"No!"

"Reynaldo told him that you got on a bus three days ago, headed for Las Vegas."

"Did the guy believe him?"

"I think so. Rey made a judgment call because he knew telling him you were on the run was more believable than trying to lie and say he had no idea who you are, especially since whatever lead he was following brought him to The Cork."

"I have to leave," I whispered.

"No. This is the safest place for you to be right now, Bumpkin."

"I've got enough money to . . ."

"And you've got a doctor appointment next week. It's getting closer and closer, Tab. Now's not the time to rock the boat."

"But they're looking for me."

"In Vegas," Simon said firmly.

"How can you be sure?"

"Reynaldo's got an in with the guy, so he'll keep track of what's going on in his hunt for you."

"He's got an in? How?" Simon gave me a cheesy grin, and I burst out laughing. "Did Reynaldo really take one for the team?"

"Honey, Rey's a giver, not a taker," Simon informed me. "And apparently, Mr. Russia enjoyed every second of the gift he received."

"That means he'll be back to see Rey."

"No. Rey's his dirty little secret, so he'll stay as far away from here as possible."

"But there could be more coming."

"Oh, there will be. Rey enjoyed the hell out of it and plans to see this guy as often as possible. And by doing that, he'll be able to assure him that he hasn't seen you around since you left, but he heard you're doing really well while he gets intel on the hunt for you."

"I need to start making Rey treats," I mumbled as I glanced over at the stack of cookbooks I'd been collecting from thrift stores for the last few weeks. "Does he have any allergies?"

"Yes. Two, I believe."

"What are they?"

"Commitment and plaid."

I burst out laughing and said, "I'll make him some cookies."

"You do that, but make me dinner first. Your baby daddy is famished."

"Technically, my baby daddy has been dead for more than two years."

"That is so morbid."

"I know, right?"