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Waiting for Marco to talk to me about the text and clue me in on what else he’s hiding hasn’t panned out. Most of our time together these days is spent constructing the gym and the clinic.
There’s nothing wrong with hearing what Mason has to say.
My hand reaches for the phone. “Give it to me.”
Jenna hesitates, her eyes meeting mine. “Lu.”
“Give me the phone.”
I take it, and as I press it to my ear, my pulse hammers in my throat. “Mason.”
“Lucia.” His voice is tired, urgent, and scraped raw. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I found information about Matteo and the trafficking ring that changes the picture completely.”
Every instinct screams at me to end the call and walk away. But he said Matteo’s name, and I can’t let that thread go, not when it’s the only one I have left.
“Where are you?”
“Our usual coffee shop. I just need five minutes of your time. Please.”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” I end the call.
Jenna’s watching me, her face pinched with worry. She rests a hand on my arm. “Lu, whatever he’s selling, you don’t have to buy it.”
I’m already grabbing my bag, my jacket, and my keys. “If he has answers about Matteo, then I should see him.”
“He could be lying just to get you there.” Jenna’s eyes follow me. “You know he never moved on. That’s why he’s always sticking around.”
“He could be telling the truth.” I hold her gaze to show her how serious I am. “I have to know, Jen. I have to.”
She shakes her head in resignation.
“Don’t worry. It’s just Mason. I can handle Mason.” I glance around the room, checking for the incognito Benedetti soldiers who I know watch over me. “Jenna, I want you to go out there and distract my guards.”
She sighs as she walks toward the men. “Okay, but you owe me.”
The coffee shop is nearly empty when I arrive late in the afternoon.
Mason’s at the table in the back corner, the same one he always chose when we were together. His drink sits untouched, going cold.
He stands when I approach, and relief flickers across his face.
“You came.”
“You said you had information about my brother.” I keep the table between us. “Talk.”
He gestures to the chair across from him, and I sit down reluctantly, perching on the edge.
“I’ve been investigating the Benedetti family, and I found things I couldn’t tell you before because they would have put you in danger if I’d spoken too soon.” He slides a thick, worn folder toward me. “I found the trafficking ring Matteo was investigating before he died. And I found out who’s really in charge.”
I open the folder. Grainy photos spread across the pages, shadowed and indistinct like surveillance shots taken from too far away. In the center, I find a photograph of Marco, Nico, and Enzo in a warehouse I don’t recognize, their faces half lit and their postures familiar.
“What is this?”
“Proof.” Mason speaks with careful, measured words in the voice he uses when delivering news he knows will wound. “The Benedetti family isn’t just connected to the trafficking ring, Lucia. They’re operating it. Marco, Enzo, and Nico are the ones in charge. They’ve been using you to get to Bruno Caruso and make him the fall guy. They want to cover their own tracks.”
His claim doesn’t make any sense. He hands me witness statements with portions of testimony starkly highlighted. Six arrested felons mention Marco and Enzo in relation to kidnappings.
“That’s not true.” I push the papers back, and when he won’t accept them, I drop them on the table. “Marco would never—”
