Cruel Summer

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: WINTER

I’mtiredofsitting around in this bed.

Walking is still an issue but when I use the crutches, I can get around myself. Which is why there’s no reason I’m just sitting around here waiting for something to happen, anything to happen.

I may have been stabbed and assaulted, but its only a matter of time before Giovanni’s attention narrows back in on me and then I’m going to be fucked, probably both figuratively and literally.

And then he’ll finally kill me once and for all.

I carefully swing my legs off to the side of the bed, reaching for my crutch and using it to help me get to my feet. I keep pressure off of my right leg. It’s not feeling near as bad as it did a week ago, but the more pressure and weight I put on it, the worse it feels.

The doctor, Sophia, I finally learned, says that it’s going to be a slow process but fortunately no major blood vessels or nerves were hit. The scar isn’t pretty, it’s thick and jagged. My stomach sinks every time I see it, but I’m trying to get used to it. The physical therapist that has been coming in daily to see me seems to have positive hopes for the injury as well. He thinks I’ll only have to use the crutches for no more than three weeks. That should give it time to heal up without the possibility of making the injury worse.

The crutches clunk against the floorboard and I ease my bedroom door open, peeping out. Amadeo has only been coming around to check on me every now and then, but I’ve also caught him keeping up post outside of my door a couple of times when I’ve gone to the bathroom.

I don’t know who they think is going to come in here and get me now that Sheffield is dead, but honestly, I guess you never know with the Costas.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Giovanni has him on me to make sure I don’t get up to anything.

Fortunately for me, there’s no Amadeo when I open the door. Determined, I hobble down the hall.

I haven’t been allowed to stay in my room since I’d have to go up the steps and those are still a little tricky to navigate. I hadn’t been happy about that at first, but today I definitely am. I’d probably go falling down the steps in a heap of limbs and metals, giving away my snooping.

My current room isn’t a long trek from Giovanni’s office and I’m thankful that I don’t run into anyone on my way there.

I take a deep swallow when I get to his door, debating for a long moment. I press my ear up to the wood and I don’t hear anything, but I know that the doors could easily be soundproof. I’d be less surprised if they weren’t.

I stare at the keypad next to the doorknob. I’ve seen the guys put a code into the door before and I’ve always tried to act like I wasn’t looking. In the beginning, I wasn’t, but after speaking with Diamond, I started paying closer attention, knowing that a day like today could come.

What I don’t have is a key and a lot of the doors around this place have double security measures in place.

What if they’ve changed the codes?

It's not out of realm that they could possibly rotate the codes out often for everything, but the ones I’ve seen put in have always been the same.

Well, here goes nothing.

489017

A green light flashes and the lock clicks. A whoosh of breath leaves my lips. I struggle to turn the knob without dropping either of the crutches, but I make it work.

The office is empty and it's cool, as if somehow Giovanni has managed to leave his presence behind.

Where to start?

I limp over to his desk, dropping down into his chair. My crutches clatter to the ground. The chair is nice and comfortable, smelling faintly of cigar smoke. There’s a bottle of liquor on his desk, and what the hell? I’m already going to be in deep shit if I get caught, so I may as well enjoy myself.

I don’t bother looking for the shot glasses I know he keeps in here. Instead, I pop the cork off the top and take a long swig of the bourbon.

It’s smooth, yet it still burns as it glides down my throat.

The temptation to kick my feet up on his organized desk is strong but I push it away, taking one last sip. I pull on the first drawer and I’m unsurprised when it isn’t locked. Files sit on top of each other. I pull them all out, slamming them down onto the desk.

The manilla files aren’t labeled so I just open the first one on top. It’s about the Rossis, the father, I realize as I look the files over. The file almost looks like it’s some official government file as it details the whole case and everything that the FBI has on him. It’s not important to what I need, so I toss it to the side, moving onto the next file.

I don’t know how many files I get to before I open one up and the first thing I see is The Drake. I swallow, moving over the file. It holds detailed killings of everyone the drake is suspected to have murdered.

Amarie flashes through my mind.