Daemon smirks. “Some rich kid. William Jones. Moved out here from California. Mommy and Daddy pay little Billy’s tuition for him to go to college, but he got himself caught up in gambling on his favorite sports teams. Rossario said he started out making good money, then took a hit when Bama took an unexpected loss to Vanderbilt last season.”
“That was last season. He’s still in the hole?” I ask out of curiosity. That’s a long time to let someone owe a debt and not like Rossarioat all. Usually after a couple of weeks, the kid would have a broken finger or limb at the very least.
“Billy took up gambling on other sports and interests. Even tried his hand at the fight circuit. He was doing okay until aboutthree weeks ago. He had a bad beat. Billy thought his pick, a new Russian that just joined the circuit, had won. Hell, we all did. But Rossario’s fighter, McCain, came back in the last round and KO’d the Russian.”
“Everyone took a hit that day,” Angelo says, shaking his head, his voice laced with regret.
“Billy has been on a downward spiral ever since,” Daemon continues. “Rossario got word the kid was here slinging dope to make back some cash to pay his debt. Unfortunately, that means he’s working for someone else and not the Venatti. Which, in Rossario’s eyes, means he needs to be taught a lesson in loyalty and respect.”
“And that’s where you come in.” I smirk. There’s something about the guy. The more he talks, the more I find myself liking him. I need to call Rossario and see what else he knows about Daemon. He might be of better use to Naz here in Dallas as a collector. He could also keep the fight gig if he wanted. Although if he’s doing it for the money alone, I can promise he won’t need it so long as he does his job right.
Daemon looks around the room, then stops when his eyes find mine. Something tugs at my chest. A familiar feeling, but I can’t place it.
What is it about this guy?
“You’re a tracker?” Angelo chimes in.
“I’m trained to do a lot of things,” Daemon replies. “Rossario uses me in whatever capacity he needs me. I don’t mind. The pay is good.” He shrugs.
“And where did you say you found Billy?” Naz speaks for the first time since we started. He’s been quietly observing the guy, not showing any signs of emotion.
“I found him at the Landing Strip. He’s been slinging drugs in the area and uses the club as his office. Rossario also got word that Billy had found a new bookie. Someone they call TheBishop. I guess he works out of that back office there or some shit. I don’t know. He’s not really my concern. But it’s been rumored that if Billy’s spread wins, he drops a couple hundred on a night with one of the girls to celebrate.”
“Wait.” I lean forward, slamming my fists on Naz’s desk. He doesn’t flinch. His hands are clenched tight where he sits. The tension in his neck and jaw alerts me that he’s probably on the same page as me with this bit of information.
“You’re telling me the asshole who shot Santo was in a strip club where The Bishop has been hiding out?” My body is vibrating with anger. “This can’t be a coincidence, Naz. The guy who’s been causing all kinds of shit for us with the Cartel, andthe asshole who tried to kill Santo are working together. They have to be.”
“Wait. Who’s been making trouble with the Cartel? The college kid? What am I missing?” Daemon questions.
“No. Not Billy. The Bishop.” Mauro fills in the blanks. “He’s been making life difficult for us. Appears he’s turned a couple of our men and uses them to get intel on our business arrangements.”
“We don’t even know how many of our men have been turned,” Angelo points out. “There could be more.”
“You leave that to me, Ang. I’ll vet them all.Personally,” I promise.
“Why don’t you just go get him?” Daemon asks derisively.
We all look to Nazario. His eyes are narrowed. His jaw is tense.
“Are you sure The Bishop would be there tonight?” Naz asks, his voice thick with fury.
Daemon shrugs. “Probably. I’m supposed to hit up Billy there tonight to collect. I can go in and find out if the guys you’re looking for are there. They won’t recognize me.”
“Give me a few minutes to get our men ready.” I don’t wait for Nazario to issue orders. I’m already on my phone texting three of my men, since Stavros is currently occupied with Althea. That reminds me. I need to find where they went.
I make a phone call to Roman, one of the dungeon monitors at The Mansion. He’s loyal as fuck and won’t hesitate to shoot anyone on sight if given the order. I tell him where to meet us and to bring extra firepower, just in case. Mauro is already on his feet, with Angelo following behind him. Nazario follows Daemon out of the office while speaking to his guards on the phone.
Looks like we’re all going.
I hang up with Roman and jump in the passenger side of Mauro’s ride. He pulls out behind Nazario’s SUV, and the convoy follows us out. I’m fucking around on my phone trying to locate Stavros’s SUV, then barely hold my shit together when I finally get his location.
“What the fuck?”It comes out as a growl. Mauro spares me a quick glance, his brows creased with confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“We aren’t the only ones who will be at the Landing Strip,” I grit. “Looks like Miss Drakos and Stavros have already beaten us there.”
15
