Catching Bianca: A Dark Mafia Romance (Shadows of Obsession Book 4)
Catching Bianca: Chapter 7

Nights at Scarlett are my favorite. Not just because I’m laptop-less here—and after almost three months of staring at the screen, I’m getting sick and fucking tired of my tech-whizz job—but also because I can forget the mayhem.

Hailey and Violet are tucked in the booth opposite Broadway, Koby, and me. None of our enemies can get inside the club. There’s enough security that the three of us are rarely required to help end a brawl in the main part of the club.

Usually, it’s Broadway who jumps straight into action, even if he’s not needed. He’s brimming with pent-up energy that doesn’t let him sit still for long periods.

Fingers crossed that once the kill list is complete and not a single man who raped his girl is still breathing, he’ll start enjoying his time with Violet while she’s growing his baby.

Her tiny bump is showing whenever she wears tight dresses, and Broadway doesn’t stop touching it, refusing to miss the moment his baby kicks for the first time.

It’s odd watching him do such a profound one-eighty whenever Violet’s around. He’s unhinged when she’s not within sight. The elaborate killings are proof of that, but as soon as she’s close, that grizzly bear morphs into a teddy.

Well, almost every time.

Right now is a prime example of Broadway’s untamable, uncontrollable wrath. He’s vibrating beside me, his knuckles white around the glass of Bourbon.

The reason? Carter’s not here. He’s in the office with one of his many informants. Once Amadeus Tipton heaved his soul out, the light in his eyes dying forever, Broadway reiterated the gossip he spilled about Grey’s rage and Noretto’s failing business.

Carter called in his informant, looking for more details, and by the look of Broadway, he’s worried Carter will end his extracurricular activities.

I wouldn’t be surprised. The tension between Carter and Grey has been growing exponentially. Escalating the conflict—read: forcing Grey’s hand—is not a wise choice.

It’s always best to take your enemy down on your own terms than risk a full-fledged war you’re not prepared for.

Carter told the three of us to stay back and secure the girls. It hiked Broadway’s anxiety far beyond reasonable levels.

No wonder. We’re usually kept in the loop…

“What do you think he’ll do?” Broadway asks, setting his empty glass on the table.

“Hard to say.”

“There’s just Vincent left. He can’t stop me now. Not when I’m this—”

“He can,” I cut in before he gets too worked up.

Hailey’s busy gossiping with Violet, and the music filling the air masks our conversation, but Broadway’s volume is too high.

“Keep it down,” I chastise. “He’s the boss, Broadway. He’s already done a shitload to accommodate your vendetta.”

Broadway huffs, his knee bouncing in a nervous tick, fingers balling into fists then unclenching slowly. “They hurt Violet. They deserved to die. I need Vincent’s head, Ryder. You know that. You know Carter wouldn’t stop if it was Hailey—”

“Nah, ah, ah,” I tut, shaking my head. “He gave you the green light to kill while he refrained from killing Grey and Noretto even though they hurt Hailey. I bet taming his bloodthirst cost him a few gray hairs, but he knew killing those two would mean a war we’re not ready for.”

Broadway grumbles under his breath before getting the attention of one of the lower-ranking soldiers nearby. “Get me a refill,” he orders.

“Carter’s the boss here, but don’t forget he’s a new boss,” Koby pipes in, joining our conversation, his hushed tone a cue that we’re still too loud. “He’s being watched. Judged. Everyone who ever eyed Rhett’s seat waits for one bad decision, one mistake.”

Broadway nods, raking a hand through his hair, eyes darting briefly to Violet. “What about Carrow? Having him as an ally must mean something.”

Koby’s derisive snort hits my ears. “Carter and Dante are thick as thieves, but not even Dante would send his cavalry if Carter started a war started through poor choices.”

Hailey glares at me over the table, clearly annoyed that we’re chit-chatting in hushed voices, leaving her in the dark.

She’s the nosiest little thing I ever met. While we’re not discussing any taboo subjects right now, nothing hits her ears without Carter’s explicit permission.

The soldier Broadway used as his waiter comes back with a tray of drinks. He’s new. New enough that I still haven’t learned his name. New enough that, judging by his triumphant expression, he thinks fetching drinks for everyone, not just Broadway, will earn him brownie points.

“He already did the unthinkable for you, Broadway,” I say once the guy moves away and the girls snatch their drinks: a mojito for Hailey and a virgin version for Violet. “He handed the evidence over when Violet was on the line, right?”

Broadway’s back straightens as he gives me a tight nod.

“Exactly. If he says your killing spree ends here, you’ll nod, thank him for his fucking patience with your temporary insanity, and you’ll stop.”

“Of course I’ll stop.”

“But you’ll sulk, right?” Koby lets out a chuckle before his face falls. “Oh, I’m so looking forward to your whining.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not tonight. I have my eyes on a different prize.” He gestures ahead, pointing out a group of young women. “The blonde one,” he clarifies, staring at his target.

While they bicker about Koby whoring himself out on a weekly basis, I flick through the apps on my phone. I may as well check whether Bianca’s popped up.

I’d love to switch off while we’re relaxing at Scarlett, but my compulsive, obsessive side won’t allow it. I’d hate to miss a hit because I was adamant not to check my phone every hour.

I open the monitor app feeding data from my laptop and sit up, my heart’s rhythm accelerating. I’m so used to seeing a blank screen that when I replace three clips from three separate security cameras in Dayton showing Bianca’s tear-stricken face, I refresh the app three times, making sure this is fucking real.

My fingers shake as I play the first video, watching her lean against a liquor store’s wall, her chest heaving, body shaking as if she ran a marathon.

Or as if she’s terrified.

The clip runs for twenty seconds until the camera turns, scanning the street, the time stamp in the corner telling me there’s a lag in my system. Over an hour’s passed since this was recorded and I only just got it.

That won’t do. The face-recognition software, as accurate as it is, should be faster. An hour is a long time. Bianca might be anywhere by now. Off our radar again.

“Is that—?” Broadway starts, his voice tight.

“Yeah.”

I click the next clip: Bianca rushing down another street. She keeps looking over her shoulder as if she’s being chased.

The panicked look on her face twists my insides.

I’ve been after this girl for weeks. I scoured her social media accounts, read through every single post she’s ever written, and flicked through a thousand pictures. It’s only natural that I’ve gotten protective along the way.

The next video shows her in a convenience shop, snatching a few protein bars and a water bottle from the shelves.

“What the hell is she doing?” Broadway mutters, keeping his voice low so as not to alert Hailey.

We don’t want that.

She’s been crawling out of her skin since Bianca’s existence was announced.

We all thought Hailey was unbearable while we were looking for Violet, but we were sorely mistaken. She’s ten times worse now, and I bet it’s because her sister’s been missing ten times longer than the week we spent replaceing Violet.

“Where is this?” Broadway asks, summoning Koby’s attention by kicking him under the table.

He catches my shin in the process; that’s how I know.

“Dayton,” I reply, returning to the app’s home screen only to replace another clip.

This time, Bianca’s looking straight at the camera like she’s making sure her face gets recognized. Vaughn must’ve told her about the system both we and Grey use.

“If we’ve seen this, so has Octavius. And Blaze,” I say hiding behind a glass of whiskey from the two nosey girls opposite us.

They’re deep in conversation, but if we’re not careful that’ll change, and Hailey will expect to tag along for the ride.

“It’s over an hour away,” Broadway says, leveling me with a pointed stare. “Two from Pennsylvania. The sooner we move, the better, but not until Carter’s done with his informant. We can’t leave the girls here without security.”

“That’s why you’re staying.” I jut my chin at Broadway, simultaneously urging Koby to get moving.

Two wrinkles dent his forehead, the short exchange between Broadway and me not registering while he was salivating over the blonde he’d like to bend over any flat surface.

“No fucking way,” Broadway protests, his hands in tight fists.

I get why he’s not taking this well.

A: I’m not his boss so I shouldn’t call the shots.

B: He probably hopes Vaughn is there. He hopes the man will accidentally offer him a compelling reason to put a bullet in his elbows.

He’d love to cripple Vaughn further since he can’t kill him. A bullet between the eyes is out of the question, but Broadway could exact his revenge on Vaughn by making his life infinitely worse than it already is.

It must be hard running from his past while being wheelchair bound. How much harder would it be if he couldn’t use his arms?

Fucking impossible.

“What’s going on?” Koby asks, glancing between me and the blonde he won’t touch tonight.

I restart one of the clips, press play, and pass him the phone so he’s in the loop. Three seconds go by before a deep “Fuck” leaves his mouth, his posture changing into the battle-ready mode he assumes whenever we move out.

We’re only supposed to catch Bianca before Octavius or Blaze can get their filthy hands on her again, but we should be ready in case the fuse burns down to the dynamite.

After all, this might be a trap

Vaughn’s mind is as dangerous as when he had full use of his legs. I can’t rule out a big ruse.

Bianca’s kept her head down for weeks, or else we would’ve found her sooner. And now she’s boldly staring into the camera, wanting to be found…

I don’t like this.