She’s My Queen

14. Who did it?

14

WHO DID IT?

SEVERIO

I wake up to a man wearing a baseball cap kneeling between my legs and fixing something near my groin. I grab my gun and point it at the same time that he snaps his head up. A mere second before I pull the trigger, I recognize the Order’s finest hitman and my trusted friend, Drago.

Brown eyes, clipped brown hair under the cap, clean-shaven. He stares back at me from the other side of the barrel. Leaning in, he kisses the barrel. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

I groan and try to sit up, but he pushes me back down. “I’m almost done.”

“What are you doing?”

“Changing your dressing.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Three days.”

I close my eyes and contain my anger by grinding my teeth.

Drago taps my shoulder. “We’ll get them.”

He thinks I’m mad about the attempt on my life (he’s right about that), but not right now. Right now, I’m furious with Corrado for sedating me for three days. I’m still in the villa on the island, so that’s good. If Corrado had transported me, I would have been even more upset with him.

I wonder why he didn’t.

I look in the direction of the bedroom and see that the bed’s made. Which doesn’t mean much, but I’m sure Cristina’s not here.

I find my phone beside me, ignore the thousands of notifications on it, and dial her number.

“Hello,” she answers. People are shouting in the background, so she must be at work.

I hang up.

Drago throws my old dressing into a plastic bag and takes a seat on a bar chair. He’s wearing a pair of beach shorts, a white tank top, and flip-flops. He’s blended into the island crowd quite well.

Once, I asked him why he doesn’t wear black on black all the time like in the movies. He told me it’s about staying invisible and being the least noticed in a group. His profession came from ninjas, who wore whatever they needed for camouflage.

“When did you arrive?” I ask him.

“As soon as I could.”

“Corrado and family are at the estate?”

He nods.

“Did you feed me?”

“Only fluids. A nurse visited, but I sent her back and told her you’d left.”

“Nobody knows I’m still here?”

He shakes his head. “They think I’m your private investigator.”

“Thank you.” Drago’s here to figure out who shot at us and to remove them once and for all. He works alone, but will work with me if he must. Now he must, because I want answers.

“One thing: I don’t like this location,” he says.

“Why? It’s isolated. Perfect for setting up our base.”

He shakes his head again. “Too isolated. Makes me think your uncle set you up all along. Was he alive after the attempt?”

I nod. Corrado ended him.

“He could’ve ordered it,” Drago says. “In which case, we’re chasing a ghost.”

“He’s too cowardly for that. Too close of a call for him. He wouldn’t have used drones either. It’s someone else.”

“I have an idea,” Drago says.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want to investigate Rocco Capone. We need to get inside the lion’s den. Lie in wait. Draw him out.”

Cristina’s father. “He died, so that’s another ghost.”

“Not his body.”

I take a moment to parse out what Drago is telling me, but can’t. “What?”

“They didn’t bury him.”

I need coffee for this conversation. “You dug him up?”

Drago nods. “Closed-casket burial. Coffee?”

I nod at the coffee he’s already fixing. “He died of a heart attack, so why closed?”

“We have to ask Maria Capone.”

“Her mother could’ve done it,” I say, but realize my mistake the moment it comes out. I referred to Maria as Cristina’s mother, when I should’ve referred to her as Capone’s wife. This detail would be negligible to most, but Drago picks up on the smallest of details. In this case, I was thinking of Cristina.

Drago doesn’t react, but I’m sure he files my words into an archive in his mind for later use when he deems it necessary.

“Could’ve, but she and her daughter aren’t close. A lot of the plan depends on the daughter marrying Gio. It’s the perfect wealth scam. Transfer wealth to Gio and make him think he’s won, then marry off your daughter to the man with wealth, kill the man, and now you control both his and your own wealth.”

“But Gio never married Cristina Capone.”

“Yes, but Rocco doesn’t know that. The marriage looked legit. Another idea is if he knows you got in the way, all he had to do was eliminate you. Gio marries Cristina as planned.”

“We’ll find whoever did it,” I say.

“I know. But I want to make the calls from now on.” He hands me the cup of coffee and leans against the boarded-up wall that leads to the terrace.

He thinks I’m compromised because I mentioned Cristina by name. He’s a quick study, this man. It’s why I won’t let him retire.

I’m trying to think of places we could set up a base of operations, but I’m sure he’s already found options and is only waiting for me to hurry up and drink my coffee.

“Our doctors sent experimental salves that speed up the healing process,” he says.

“How?”

He raises an eyebrow. “How did they send it?”

“No, how does it work?”

“Connective tissue repair. It works like a glue until our body heals. They use it on the battlefield already.” During special ops, he means.

I sit up, stretch my upper body, and crack my neck a few times before attempting to stand.

Drago offers me a hand. I take it before applying pressure to my wounded leg. I try to walk and manage a few steps, then a few more.

“It’s still swollen,” I say.

“It’ll subside. You need another week of rest.”

I curse.

“No way around it, my friend.”

“Where do you want to set up base?” I ask.

“Gio’s.”

“Why not in the lion’s den?” I ask, meaning: why aren’t we setting up our base inside a Capone home? If that doesn’t draw him out, nothing will.

“Because you seem to have formed an attachment to Cristina Capone that can cost you your life. It’s why I need to call the shots.”

“My attachment is exactly what will end this coup.”

Drago purses his lips, thinking. “Are you sure?”

“Certain,” I lie. “Cristina Capone is a means to an end.”