There was a bar about two miles from the cottage where Finley and Letizia were living. After he dropped them off at the airport, Ricky made his way into town to grab a beer. Just as his hand touched the door knob, he heard a woman’s voice.

“You’re friends with my neighbor,” she said from behind him.

He knew who it was before he turned around. His holster with his gun was hiding under his jacket. “Friends?” He turned to face the woman.

“Yeah, your one friend is a real asshole.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You sound much nicer than him.”

Ricky wanted to laugh. “I don’t know about that.” He pointed to the door. “Going inside?”

“It’s happy hour, right?”

“It’s always happy hour somewhere.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and let her enter first. “Are you a beer, wine, or straight-up hard liquor type of woman?”

“Keep it hard for me.”

Ricky’s eyes went wide. “My kind of woman.” He raised his hand to the bartender and asked for two shots of bourbon.

“I’m Cara,” she said and held out her hand. He knew her name was really Ella, but he planned to play along.

“Ricky.” He grabbed his bourbon the bartender had just placed in front of him. “Cheers.” He took the whole shot in one gulp and shook his head as the liquid burned the back of his throat.

“You new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Yeah, needed some solitude.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “Oh, excuse me. Should I leave you alone?”

He let his mind wander back to when he worked undercover for the mob boss almost a decade ago. There was a woman on each arm and one keeping his bed warm every night. Something felt different now. Vikki.

“Leave me alone? No. I’m enjoying your company.” He raised his hand and ordered two more shots of bourbon.

“Who’s your friend?”

Ricky turned to the person asking the question and knew things just switched from okay to dangerous. Dego was easy to recognize with his perfectly kept dark brown hair, toothpick resting on the side of his mouth, and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hey, honey, this is Ricky. He just moved into the neighborhood.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ricky said, pointing to his bourbon. “Need one?”

“Make it two, so I can catch up.”

Ricky’s phone started to ring. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He stepped outside and leaned against the side of the building. “Hey.”

“They are safe and sound here,” Miles said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just met some new neighbors,” he whispered. “I’ve been dying to meet them.”

“Fuck. That didn’t take long.”

“Not when they’re already watching you.”

“Jesus. Be careful.”

He noticed Ella step outside. “Yeah, take care.” He placed his phone in his back pocket. “Needed some fresh air?”

“Maybe. Hey, let’s get out of here,” she said, moving her hands up his chest.

Ricky didn’t want to go down the path he did all those years ago, but how could he avoid it? “I don’t know, Cara.” He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his chest.

“Fuck you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

“I need to go,” she said and stormed off.

“Pissing her off already?” Dego stepped up beside Ricky.

“I guess. Does she get pissed off easily?”

“Only when she doesn’t get her way.”

Ricky thought about Vikki sitting in the safe house in Upstate New York. He wanted her and only her. This undercover gig didn’t have a requirement to fuck all the women he came in contact with. His goal was to find Ella, Dego, and Giano. He was two for three so far.

* * *

There was a continuous pounding. Ricky opened his eyes and realized the pounding was on his door. “Yeah, hold on.” He threw the sheet back and reached for his pants. The pounding continued. “I can hear you, hold on.” He threw the door back, and two men pushed their way inside. “What the fuck?”

“Hey, Ricky,” Dego drawled. “Maybe next time you should pick an undercover name.”

He was still half asleep and had no clue what the asshole was talking about. When he was undercover before his name was Ryan Andrews. His hair was long, and he had a beard back then.

“Undercover name?”

“Yeah, like Ryan maybe?”

Ricky knew something was off and his plans had just backfired.

Dego sat down on the edge of the bed. “You thought we were stupid, eh?”

“I don’t think it.”

“You really are clueless.”

His phone was sitting on the end table on the other side of the bed. He had no way to send an alert to Miles that he fucked up. “What do you want?”

“You know what we want, and you’re going to get it for us.”

“And if I don’t?”

“There is this really nice studio and several band members that like to go there often.”

He leaned against the wall and shook his head.

“Giano wants Letizia and Cristiano delivered to him by Saturday at twelve midnight.” Dego stood up. “Think you can handle that, Ricky?” The asshole stepped closer, invading his personal space.

“Will we get to meet up with Giano personally?”

“Maybe, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Dego turned to walk out of the motel room. He stopped. “You arrive one minute after twelve and the band members are dead.”

Ricky slammed the door shut and went to grab his phone to alert Miles. He stopped about half-way around the bed and thought of something. He grabbed his duffel bag and rifled through the photos until he came to one specific one. He stood there, staring at the image of a young girl with a man. Ella had to be five or six in the image. The guy she was with was currently on the most-wanted list.

Ricky needed to find him, and Ella was just the person to help him.