Elect

Chapter Thirty Nixon

I pulled up to the building and made it three steps before I heard the sound of footsteps lightly tapping against pavement. It took less than a few seconds for his men to grab me by the arms and drag me the rest of the way to the large wooden door.

“What do you want?” a man in a thick accent demanded.

“He’s here for me,” a crisp voice said from the doorway.

I looked up into Luca’s eyes. “That I am.”

“Do you have what we discussed?”

“Right here.” I pulled out the journal. “Let’s talk inside.”

He nodded and we walked into a small kitchen.

Luca poured me a large glass of wine. “You work faster than I expected.”

“I had help.” I sighed and pointed at the journal. “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.” It sounded like a taunt, when it was more like a plea.

“And what do I have to gain in this little exchange?”

I took a large gulp of wine. “You’ve been trying to cover it up for too long, Luca. At least admit that much.”

“It has become… trying.”

“She should know you’re her great uncle.”

“Trace does not need to know these things. It is best to keep them… private.”

“Like how you fell in love with her grandmother? Things like that?”

Luca slammed his fist onto the table. “That woman should have left well enough alone! To write about it in a diary is beyond my comprehension.”

“Wasn’t as if she could tell anyone.” I sighed. “But, you have the diary, you have something you need… and I still have a problem.”

“The killers? You haven’t found them?” Luca paced in front of me. “I thought that you were coming to celebrate! Finally, we can put the past behind us, yes?”

“Soon.” I drummed my fingertips on the countertop. “I have discovered some information about my parentage.”

“And?” Luca took a seat. “Why does this concern me?”

“Because my real father killed Trace’s parents.”

“I see. And who is he?”

I played with the stem of my wineglass. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you. I need more proof than someone just telling me. I need to catch him.”

Luca nodded and took a tentative sip of his own wine. “You mean to catch the fly.”

“I mean to make such a damn good web that everyone within forty square miles will know he’s a rat, but it’s complicated.”

“Our business always is.”

“Right.”

Luca pulled out a cigar and sniffed it. “Let us speak plainly. What can I do for you, Nixon?”

My heart hammered in my chest as I looked into his eyes and said, “I need you to kill me.”