“Where is she?” Mateo’s voice was low, sharp enough to cut through the thick silence of the abandoned warehouse.

The two men standing in front of him, De Luca guards stripped of their arrogance now that their guns were on the floor, shifted uncomfortably. One swallowed hard, the sound loud in the echo of dripping pipes.

“I…I don’t know,” the taller one stammered. “Signora Isabella doesn’t tell us where she goes. She’s clever like that.”

Mateo stepped closer, his shadow ...