15. Antonio

15

Antonio

Erico was playing golf . That meant he was in a shitty mood, but then he was in a shitty mood most days, since the rumors of the trial started. When he saw that I’d arrived, he slapped the guy he was playing against on the shoulder and told him to go ahead without him. We walked out of earshot and then stood pretending to watch as the guy teed off or teed up or whatever the fuck it is you do in golf.

“I got a job for you,” said Erico. “I want you to find Tessa.”

I blinked and fought the urge to say what? because that’s one of the many things that annoys Erico. “How?” I said at last.

“I don’t care how. Just find her. I got the FB -fucking- I crawling up my ass. The house is probably bugged. The trial isn’t just a rumor, any more. I got word this morning—it’s happening.”

My chest tightened. If the Feds were really going to move against Erico, I was probably on the list, too. “I looked for her when she left,” I reminded him gently. “We couldn’t find her then.”

“Well, try fucking harder. You want the Feds to find her first?”

I thought back to the little bitch’s friend, the one we’d suicided. “No.”

“Then get to work.”