baby [h.s.]

forty four

BEFORE YOU READ: I have a question for you! I'm thinking about starting a Billy Hargrove / Stranger Things fan fiction. I want to know, is that something you would be interested in? Comment here, let me know your thoughts. If I get enough interest, I'll post an excerpt of a first chapter before the next chapter of Baby. NOW READ ON!

            Riddle made me eat when he woke up. I didn't want to, but he buttered a piece of toast and tossed it on the desk in front of me. He pointed at it, and I slowly picked it up to take a bite. It had been six hours since we had heard from Vinny. I had the team at London looking into what they could, but there wasn't much we could do without eyes on the ground.

"Don't call him," Perkins had told me. "You wait for him to call us."

My fingers itched to pick up the phone, but I did as I was told. I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn't stop thinking of Harry. I didn't know if he was in pain and I didn't want to think of the worst. Riddle kept me busy with pointless tasks. Calling this person, checking on this flight. Anything to keep us busy.

It was near six that evening when Vinny finally rang Perkins. Perkins emerged from his office, pointed at me, and turned back around. My heart jumped and I jogged to follow.

"Close the door." He said, sternly. "Vinny did some digging. Ricci's always been harmless, helpful even at times. But he owes money to Marco Abramo."

"Abramo?" I echoed. I sat in the seat opposite of Perkins' desk.

"One of the main reasons Vinny sent Styles' father into hiding. Fucker had it out for his head."

I felt numb. "So you think-"

"If we're right, Al tipped him off on Styles' whereabouts."

"We didn't tell my grandfather about the party." I said.

"Didn't have to. Abramo got the Americans involved, they did the dirty work. Don't know why yet."

I gripped the arms of the seat. "So, what the fuck are we doing about it?"

"There's guys on the ground in Italy that are investigating what they can. We have to be strategic, though, Caine. We're not some fucking amateurs. I know you're upset but get your head in the business. That's the only way you're going to get him back."

I pinched my nose. "My fucking grandfather."

"Right. That part's quite shit."

I scowled at him. "Quite."

He sent me off to relay the information to the team Riddle was working with. Riddle stared sternly, but grabbed my shoulder when the group dispersed.

"Your grandad ratted his own out." He said.

I shook my head. "Treated him like family over the whole holiday. I'm sick, Riddle. Betraying blood for a debt."

And I was sick. I didn't want it to be true, when I thought about it for the first time, but part of me knew. Even worse was that my grandfather knew I was involved. He took the thing I cared about most away from me and practically threw me beneath the barrel of a gun.

After another hour of waiting, biting my nails, and pacing, Perkins finally emerged again. He pointed at Riddle and me.

"You two, have one of the cars take to you the plane. You're flying to Venice to stay on standby. Nothing's certain, but we know they're based just outside of Venice. There will be a car waiting when you land. Go. I'll be in touch."