67

Ghost tapped his feet impatiently as he stared out the window, “Something’s up.” They were parked near the Carianno house.

Ryder had a nonchalant expression on his face as he reclined in his chair, “You mean aside from the fact that your boss, Don Carianno, is dead?” he asked in a flat tone.

Ghost frowned, he had been shocked to the bones when he picked up the paper on the airplane. Pictures of Don Carianno were littered all over, with witty captions declaring him dead. They had said he had been killed by a small weapon in his own warehouse. He had been too stunned to speak or say anything throughout the flight. Ryder had been the one asking all the important questions while his brain did the overload, “He was more than that to me...”

Ryder merely shrugged in response.

“I don’t know how I didn’t get any information about this. Why did no one tell me? Scar? Ci...” He hesitated.

“Well, you didn’t exactly have any means to communicate with them,” Ryder explained. “When your people tried