But I can.
I’ll have to have a chat with her men.
And then I’ll add a few of my own men to her detail.
“What did you find on those phone numbers?” I ask, my eyes still on the screen before me.
“Burner phones,” he replies.
“So, there's nothing really to go on.” I straighten to my full height, brushing imaginary lint from the front of my shirt. “That’ll be all. Tell the others I’m not to be disturbed this morning. I have a lot of work to do.”
And a woman to spy on.
Stavros takes his leave, and I return to mystalking—reviewing of camera footage.
I skimmed through all three days. Watching her walk to the café and eat her breakfast. Althea spends the first two days quietly eating and people-watching while watching phone videos. The first morning, when a woman comes in with her young son in tow, he waves at Althea, and she smiles wide and waves back. The second, she seems to have a lighthearted conversation with the waitress. Something she says makes Althea laugh, and I take note of the way her eyes sparkle when she does.
On the third day, however, a man invites himself to sit at the table across from her and strikes up a conversation. I watch for clues of familiarity. They do seem to know each other, but whoever he is, Althea doesn’t look interested in speaking with him.
Was she expecting him?
He drops into the chair, leaning back, comfortable in his own skin.
For now.
I can’t see his face, but I know the maker of his five-thousand-dollar suit.
Is he trying to impress her with his money? Does he know who she is?
Althea makes a show of ignoring him and enjoying her Danish, ineffectively trying to dismiss him. Something he says or does catches her off guard, causing her to still. Her food stops short of her mouth, and her eyes subtly scanning the room tell me she’s suddenly become very aware of her surroundings. She’s turning her head ever so slightly while replying to him, as she continues to watch the people around them.
She’s looking for her fucking guards.
Anger claws its way up my chest in a low growl.
The stranger doesn’t stay long. I study their exchange and pay close attention to their body language. He is relaxed andfamiliar, with an air of arrogance. Whereas Althea’s is closed off and reads as if she’s not buying whatever it is he’s offering. But there’s something more. Something in the way her eyes have widened, and her lips turn down at the corners. He’s upset her.
And now I have a motherfucker to find and have a chat with.
Their conversation is over in a matter of minutes. I watch as he stands and quickly pause the frame and move to another camera. This one is closest to the door. I move that recording to another screen and open the same time signature. I catch his face as he turns to leave.
Sebastian Malgeri.
What the hell is she doing with a sleazy bastard like him?
Scenario after scenario flickers through my mind.
Are they seeing each other?
Her body language and discomfort say they’re not, unless there’s a marriage contract that I’m unaware of. It wouldn’t matter.
They could be in business together.
But what could Malgeri offer Drakos that would be of benefit to them? He’s a low-level criminal organization. Since his father died, their business has been dwindling. The cartel took over most of the drug distribution. The Venatti own the gun trade. Rumors have surfaced about Malgeri dipping his hands in the skin trade, but he knows not to do that shit here. Not in Venatti territory.
We don’t get ourselves too heavily involved it what other organizations do. It keeps us clean when shit goes south. But that doesn’t mean we don’t keep tabs—oneveryone. It keeps us a step ahead and prepared for anything. And after Marcello Sr. was killed just a couple of months ago, we’ve been hypervigilant about keeping our eyes and informants on everyone.
5
