Chapter 11

I hang on for dear life, dangling from the edge of the rooftop. The muscles of my arms and biceps burned from the effort as I tried pulling myself up.

Once I was at chest level of the roof, I propelled my booted feet against the wall, and let my elbows lay flat over the edge of the rooftop before raising the rest of my body over the flat surface.

I rolled over, looking up at the night sky.

My breathing was a bit erratic from all the running, jumping, vaulting and somersaulting from building-to-building.

I noted how I'd chipped a nail. It was my right ring finger's nail, dang it!

After I had recovered from the exhaustion and adrenaline rush, I got back up to my feet. From the rooftop, I could clearly see the city lights shining like stars from a distance.

This area was pretty dangerous, that's why I travelled roof-to-roof, to avoid all the dangers that the night prowlers represented altogether.

I had sifted through Mikee's file on Sarah what's-her-last-name. After some in-depth research, I found out she worked at this bar. Not like Victoria's Bar though. It was the kind of bar where felons and gangsters would likely hang out.

So to say, I am at the very bad part of Toblerone town.

Yes, the town's name is Toblerone. Nobody ought to laugh. It's rude.

Also, the bar where Sarah works at is called Mafioso, which kind of gives a clear hint of who the owner should be. He or she might even be truly linked to the Sicilian Mafia.

I leaned down at the edge of the roof to get a view of the bar's entrance. There were well-built men loitering there, probably even armed.

I also checked the back, and found shadows of a group of people using a random guy as a punching bag. It was a good thing that rooftops exist as my third option.

Before I left though, I took out my dart weapons and shot all the felons from the rooftop. The lone man from the alley sagged against the wall afterwards.

It was too dark so I couldn't see clearly how he looked or if he was alright. But that exit point was clear, so I guess I'll meet him later if he fails to leave before I did.

Tucking my weapon back under my skirt, I took off my jacket.

The cold immediately bit my pale skin, wisplike white clouds forming from my lips.

My dun-colored dress was backless exposing too much skin for my liking and the straps clung to my frail shoulders, but it hugged my bosom and waist quite comfortably that I don't feel too exposed.

I let my jacket make a freefall straight to the dumpster of the back alley before heading over to the door that led downstairs.

The last thing I wanted was to leave any evidence that I had been here. I've never had any encounters with the mafia before—this was my first time ever penetrating their territory. Hopefully, this wouldn't be the last.

I took a huge intake of breath, trying to collect myself.

I can do this!

Then, I unlocked the door and made my way down the bar.

☆☆☆☆☆

Three Hours Earlier

I've already found my sender—the one who had delivered the letter from the V.A. dude.

I was seated by the veranda, overlooking the garden, and eating baked potatoes and beef patty with gravy.

If having a meal around ten in the morning is called brunch, then what do you call having a meal at past three in the afternoon?

Is it lunner? Dinch?

Anywho, I was right to presume that the man was a gardener and had worked here at the hotel. It was a piece of cake trying to look for the gardener, you just locate where the garden is, duh!

My phone suddenly vibrated thrice in my pocket.

Reading through the three new text messages, I found they were from Kassy telling me she wanted to postpone our visit to Samantha's family.

“Hello Milady.”

“Can we postpone our visit today? The police found a dead body of a woman in the forest.”

“Samantha’s family really thought it was her. It was so frightening to even think of the possibility. Can we move our visit to another day please?”

I was kind of expecting and hoping for this. I quickly typed a response before discarding my phone back into my pocket.

“Sure thing Kassy. No worries.”

The lanky guy whom I had seen thru the CCTVs was too busy to notice me at the moment. He was currently talking to a blue flower, watering it and cupping its petals gently like someone who's gone completely mental.

I was still gauging my next move.

Should I confront him about the letter? Or do I shadow him for a bit? I don't even think I've seen this man before.

I suddenly found movement in another area of the garden and found Timothy, Mrs. Olive's son. I could see his profile perfectly and easily recognized the kid. He was staring into the woods.

I frowned.

As if sensing that someone was watching him, Timothy Jr. looked up to meet my eyes.

I held my breath as the boy's unreadable gaze pierced me, and then, for a fleeting second, I think I saw him smirk. It could have been my imagination since he was so far away. But I swore, I saw a devilish glint in his eyes that sent shivers down my spine.

Seriously! What in the world is wrong with that kid?!

For a child, he is so creepy. I think he's gonna grow up to be a good psychopath one day, in a way.

Carole, the hotel staff I had encountered on my first day here, appeared from behind the kid and spoke to him. She then gently guided him back to the hotel.

I followed them with my gaze until they disappeared from view.

Sighing, I quickly gobbled down my patty. After I was done with my meal, I stood up and finally made a subtle approach—mimicry.

I feigned amazement, talking to random flowers like what the lanky guy had done.

"Oh my, what a pretty flower," I spoke to no one in particular, keeping my peripheral view of the gardener.

We were just adjacent each other, and with my dyed hair, who wouldn't notice me in an instant?

"They're all pretty, right?"

Internally, I smiled to myself, before raising my head to meet the gardener's eyes. I watched him carefully, waiting for a look of recognition. But there was none of that. Instead, I found interest.

"Hi," he greeted me with a shy smile.

"Hello," I smiled back at him, wondering why he hadn't recognized me. "I'm Milady."

"Fred."

"Oh," I exclaimed, "What a coincidence! I just met a guy yesterday with the same name as yours. Do you know him by any chance?"

I was aiming to make him feel comfortable enough to disclose any information of importance to me.

"Yeah, I know him." His eyes were sparkling with humor now. "There's actually three of us in this town who have the same nickname. My full name is Frederick."

"Well, that sounds fun. One of you could be easily mistaken for the other."

"Yeah, those guys are troublemakers." He shook his head in reminiscence.

We talked for a little while. Fred told me he had been a botanist, but then decided that he much prefered taking care of plants rather than studying them. He had also just moved into town six months ago. I also told him a bit of myself, however vaguely.

Fred was easy to talk to. After telling a few jokes and laughing together, I decided to take a chance. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Eagerly, he stepped into my trap. "Anything for a fellow flora-lover."

"Can you fill my vase with some of these?" I gestured to the flora what-they're-called's. "I really love their fragrance."

"I think I can spare a few Erysimum arkansanum for a lovely young lady such as yourself."

I laughed, although quite confused as to what erisimumu and arkaminini were.

"Where might I deliver them, madame?"

Ah, the question I've been waiting for.

"Room six, first floor please." I batted my eyelashes for effect, but he was already frozen in his place. His hand that was about to reach for an Erysimum arkansanum paused in mid-air.

Slowly, I watched him turn his head to face me. "Y-you stay there?"

"Of course. Is there a problem?" I gave him a lopsided grin, weighing my next move.

"There... there was a guy..." he trailed off, making my heart skip a beat. He was willingly disclosing information to me. "He paid me to slip a letter in room six, then told me to take the fire escape..."

"Will you describe him for me," I asked him with a serious tone. Being the smartypants that he is, he easily caught on the situation. Realization dawned upon him, whence he knew I hadn't approached him for mere flowers.

Fred, the botanist, swallowed. "I don’t know his name but he was very tall and muscular. Brown hair and long beard. And I think he sported a scar on one of his brows."

“Did he smell like grease and nicotine from too much tobacco?”

“Err... yes. How did you know?”

Evading the question, I added, “Has he had traces of grime on his skin or clothes?”

“Yes.” Fred frowned, eyeing me curiously. “He did have dirt on his forehead.”

"Thank you, Fred. Your honesty is greatly appreciated."

"I didn't read the letter," he quickly added, his face flushing deep red. "In case it was a love letter... or not."

I waved a hand off. "No worries."

I then bid him goodbye and walked away, contemplating over VA’s profile match.

I believe Fred has just described Jeremiah Rodgers.

☆☆☆☆☆

Three and A Quarter Hours Later

I found Sarah. It wasn't really that hard since she was wearing the skimpy uniform that the workers had to don.

What was hard was evading every man-sharks in the room who've tried to grope me and get me alone with them. Their offers will seriously haunt me in my dreams.

For a moment, I had regretted on willingly entering the lion’s den, instead of waiting for the lamb to get out and tail it. If I had done that though, I wouldn’t have gotten a good look at the said lion’s cave and plot an elaborate scheme for its ultimate destruction.

Besides, I was curious. Plus, I got an inside view of how Mafioso usually works.

There were actually a lot of gambling, drinking and pole dancing. Men in suits and women in fancy dresses loitered about. Thank heavens I didn’t flunk the dress code part.

My goal is to blend in and not get noticed tonight. Hence, the dun-colored dress, brown contact lenses and black, shoulder-length wig.

Some of the gamblers, despite my efforts to stay invisible, approached me and tried to engage me in a conversation. I was well aware of the gamma hydroxybutyrate that the men have tried slipping into my drinks. They thought I'd be stupid to accept any free drinks from them.

I declined their offers in the most inoffensive manner and grace I could muster. It was quite suffocating to act all nice and calm in such a dangerous place. If they wanted, they could just pull me to the side and do whatever they wanted. Even if I would scream for help, no one would help me. I had to be extra careful.

“Mi scusi. Vorrei usare il bagno,” I told the three men who had currently been surrounding me like predators trying to corner a lone, vulnerable prey. This time, I was certain that no one would stop me or make me stay for longer. Who would ever want to stop someone from peeing in the bathroom?

“Si, pegro bella donna,” one of them replied smoothly, quick to wedge flattery to his words.

I gave them a soft laugh, before waltzing past the three morons.

When I finally got rid of all the nuisances, I almost barrelled for Sarah's direction. The longer I stayed in this place, the more anxious I felt. I was getting more and more desperate to get out.

I didn't speak to Sarah. I just silently manoeuvred past her and slipped a note into her hand for which she could feel. Sarah threw me a surprised glance, which I had returned with a meaningful look.

The brief exchange all happened within the span of five seconds. I can’t risk gathering intelligence in a manner that is less than covert.

The short note only contained the word, “Restroom. Two minutes.”

I moved away from her and sauntered over to the female restroom to wait for her. I made sure to check every stalls before the door opened to reveal the awaited witness.

"Lock the door please." My voice sounded surprisingly calm despite my nerves.

"You don't have to tell me that," Sarah answered, her Irish accent evident as she locked the only entrance behind her. "You're here looking for Samantha? Who are you?"

"Milady Sinclair."

Sarah’s eyes widened in recognition.

Wow. I'm that well-known huh?

"I was informed that you have been to the police department in Sylvan. You stepped forward as a witness. Why did you leave?"

Sarah looked like a bundle of nerves, I could even see her fingers shaking uncontrollably. "I was hoping to speak with your partner," she began, referring to Mikee. "But the sheriff was there, and the detective was nowhere to be found."

I frowned. "That was my fault, sorry." Sarah shot me a questioning look. "I found a dead body in the woods. He dropped everything and came straight to me."

I almost jumped when she gasped. "Please don't tell me it's Samantha," she cried. "I won't ever forgive myself!"

"No, it's not her. We haven't identified the body yet. But Doctor Martin is on it," I assured her. "Please tell me when Samantha had been here and what she had been doing in this kind of place. You said you worked in a restaurant, not a bar."

"I'm sorry. I had to lie because of Mr. Olive." There it is again. That name... "If he knew I had come forward, he would—" Sarah stopped then started sobbing.

"He would what?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you," she helpfully answered. Notice my sarcasm there? "But I can tell you about Samantha."

I nodded, satisfied with that.

"Samantha was looking into the Mafia." My body stilled as I heard that. Up until now, I couldn’t tell for sure if they were members of the mafia, but Sarah’s words had my suspicion verified. "She's my friend and a good person. But she had to do certain things to get what she needed."

"Needed for what?" I prompted. I noted hesitation in her pale features, her dainty fingers rubbing against the side of her skirts.

“To bring the entire Mafia down the gutter.”

“Samantha is that brave to attempt that?” I was utterly confused about Samantha’s true personality.

“Yes, she is.” Sarah nodded. “Our towns have been unjustly ruled by the members of Mafioso. Mr. Olive has connections with them, so Samantha used him to get inside. I’m here...” She paused, looking around the neatly polished restroom as though someone could walk in through the walls at any moment. She whispered, “I’m here to spy on them too.”

“On whose orders?” I asked with an undeniable tone of curiosity.

“That’s the thing, I don’t exactly know who’s leading us.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” My voice raised a decibel, though I didn’t mean it to. “You mean you willingly jumped into this dangerous place without knowing who’s giving you orders? Am I getting this, right?”

“Not exactly,” she quickly defended. “You don’t know what this entire town is going through, even the neighboring cities. Many people are turning up dead and nobody would care. Everyone’s scared.”

“How about the police?”

“The police in this entire region are corrupt, Milady.”

The entire region?

“And the Mafioso has connections everywhere. Nobody has ever dared to take them down. The last inspectors and prosecutors that tried to entervine end up disappearing along with their entire families.”

“If they are that dangerous and powerful, then why are you here, Sarah?” I eyed the Irish woman critically, inspecting every bit of her physiological aspects. “I mean no offense, but if many have tried and failed to bring the Mafioso down, what edge do you think you have to ascertain your success?”

“Because we found someone. Samantha found someone more powerful than the Mafioso.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe after everything you’ve told me.”

I was a bit skeptical, yes. Who wouldn’t be? I mean, who could be more powerful than the freaking Mafia?

“You shouldn’t underestimate him. He’s done a lot of things that many would have deemed impossible. When he introduced himself to us, at first we didn’t believe him. But then, he managed to convince us quite astonishingly. He already had everything planned out and there are others whom he told us was working with him and had a common goal.”

“All of us knew the dangers, but I wasn’t worried. We are fighting for a good cause and that was enough for us.” Sarah’s eyes reflected sadness for a split second before she continued, “Besides, I don’t have anyone. So, I’m not afraid.”

“So, there are more of you? Do you happen to know who the others were?”

Sarah shook her head. “Our leader is careful in everything he does. He wouldn’t tell us whom the others were in case one of our group decides to betray us. I only happen to encounter Samantha because he asked us to work together. I’m not even supposed to tell you anything… but somehow, I know you’ll be able to help us.” She sighed, looking back at the door. “They’ll be looking for me soon. Is that all you wanted to know?”

“Wait a minute.” I had so many questions, but I chose the most relevant and crucial in the time-sensitive inquisition. “This leader of yours… what’s his name?”

“I don’t exactly know his real name. We call him by many names but he told us to call him Mr. X.”

My face paled at the mention of the familiar noun. I staggered backwards as though hit by an invisible force, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mr. X?” I echoed back, not believing the notion that I had uttered his name for the first time in a long time. I was the one who named him that, for lack of any sufficient knowledge on his identity. “Did he say why?”

Sarah frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

A knock startled us both, making us jump. "Stronza! I'm about to pee here!" a feminine voice complained from the other side of the door.

My heart felt like exploding from the shock of his involvement and the palpable tension in the atmosphere.

Sarah turned to me again, her eyes frantic. "You have to find Samantha, detective."

I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to calm down despite my own nervousness. "When did you last see Samantha?"

Another loud and incessant banging against the door which was followed by a series of Italian curse words.

“Incazzato!Merda!”

Sarah and I shared an anxious look. We couldn't risk being found out by anyone.

"Get inside the stall," I instructed her which she obliged willingly.

When she was safely hidden, I moved to open the door, being greeted by an angry blonde woman. "Porta la tua attività altrove, puttana," she grumbled, pushing past me rudely into one of the stalls.

I tried to ignore the fact that she just called me a whore. The last thing I wanted was to draw any unnecessary attention. So, I decided I had to leave for the meantime and wait for Sarah to come out.

I went back to the bar, trying to stay low.

Slow music played in the background as the women on stage danced seductively. I was partially glad they were there, to distract all the men in the room, but disturbed at the meantime for such sheer exposure.

"Un drink per una bella donna," I heard a deep voice whisper against my ear as someone placed a drink on my table. To be completely honest, I was totally caught off guard by that stealthy move.

"No, grazie," I answered politely, ignoring him.

The man slowly stepped back from me, and it was then that I turned my head to face the stranger.

One look and I knew that the man beside me was different than the other mobsters in the room. I could see it in the condescending look in his silver blue eyes and I could smell it in his expensive Armani perfume.

He had silver rings on his fingers, tattoos on his exposed wrists, an ostentatious suit to boot and slick black hair that was pushed back neatly. All of this would seem completely ordinary, but his presence emanated raw power. Plus, I think I could see his goons standing guard behind him.

“Chi non beve in compagnia o è un ladro o è una spia,” he spoke in a flat note, his eyes cold and sharp.

I swallowed a lump in my throat at his straightforwardness and intensity. I even wondered whether he meant his words in the literal sense or in a figurative manner.

I gave a quick sweep around the room, noting how many beautiful women were gathered here. Compared to them, I was like a lily in a labyrinth of roses.

Of all people, why did he have to talk to me?

“Signore,” I began, racking my brain for a plausible excuse. But before I could do so, he already had me figured out.

“I detect a subtle native accent in your words,” he stated plainly. It was a statement, not a question. I spoke one word, and he had me cornered.

Quickly, I lied, “I’m new here.” I tried to mask my fear with a look of indifference, but I couldn’t tell whether he was convinced either way.

“New, huh? No wonder you looked…” Pausing, he eyed me up and down in a way that made me feel like I was being visually violated. “… fresh.”

My cheeks flushed crimson red. I felt like a piece of meat dangling in a small hook above an awaiting great white shark.

“Do you know who I am, little girl?”

Never in my entire years have I ever been so scared. I’ve faced psychopaths and serial killers, but they would never compare to this man standing too close for my liking. They were all predictable, driven by bloodlust and foolish obsessions. But this man is obviously the exact opposite. He is a man of control and power.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid no one has told me who you are…” While I was speaking, he moved behind me. Being reasonably paranoid, I was worried that if he had a gun pointed at me, I would be left completely defenseless.

The stranger stepped closer, invading my personal space. I could feel his body heat from behind me as he leaned down to whisper against my ear, “I am Don Dominique.”

Don?

I felt the sickening sensation of mixed dread and fear. I tried to regain my composure however. If I want to live to see daybreak, I have to remain calm and improvise. One wrong move could lead to my untimely death.

Smiling seductively, well hopefully seductively, I turned to face the leader of the Mafioso and placed my palms against the lapels of his suit.

“Baciami.”

A corner of his lips quirked up, the specks of blue in his grey eyes dilating. In the dimly lit room, it looked like a glinting knife that could easily cut through anyone’s skin.

“What an impatient woman, you are.” He chuckled before swooping down to kiss me.

I wasn’t prepared for the rough and violent manner of his kisses. I’ve never kissed any man in my life before, but I never thought that a single kiss could feel like this. Like a game of power play, he fought for dominance throughout the end. I could only squirm and gasp for air when he finally ended it.

I shivered as his large hand snaked its way around me, resting against the small of my back. The warmth of his touch invaded my exposed skin, so confident, so self-assured. This guy was evidently no common criminal. This was the kind of man who does not take no for an answer.

"I can tell by the look in your eyes, you’ve never been a man like me before," he whispered, his wide jawline rippling with the movement, cocking his head to side like an eagle eyeing a dumb prey.

"I'm sorry. I think I have to go," I quickly and steadily spoke, fumbling for his hands to let me go. Don Dominique remained silent as I threw him a strained smile and began walking away calmly.

Please don't follow me. Please don't follow me...

I risked a side glance and saw a profile approaching me from behind.

Shoot! I shouldn't have—

Two powerful arms suddenly pulled me to the side, making me yelp. I had smelt the distinct scent of mint before I got a noseful of chloroform invading my senses.

I was out like a light.