I called out for food around seven in the evening we'd been poring over her notes for hours. I had her sitting next to me so I could feel her, know she was safe, because each time I read how she had broken into some place or the other my blood ran cold. The fact that she'd been in danger all this time, in my own backyard made me see red. When I got to the part about someone breaking into her bedroom back at home in Chicago I wanted to tear the motherfucker apart. Luckily she'd been out gathering information that night and had escaped whatever the fuck had been in store for her. She'd left the next day, no wonder. Now we knew the Staccos had tried to make good on their kidnapping threat. Dead motherfuckers, they were getting more and more dead by the minute. I pulled out my phone at the end of my rope, fuck this shit. "Where the fuck is Stacco?" I listened to the voice on the other end of the line. My men knew better than to make any excuses to me, especially when I used that tone of voice.
