“And you hoped to accomplish this by questioning whom, exactly?” the Dai Lo asked.
“We thought we’d start with the men who attacked me,” Mal answered. “We wanted your permission since our…interrogation methods can sometimes be…violent.”
The Dai Lo frowned once again. “You think these men know where your missing woman is?”
“Not necessarily, but we really have no other leads and the window for finding her alive feels like it’s closing rapidly,” Nico said. “We thought, even if they didn’t know where she was, they might know which of the twins was harassing her.”
The Dai Lo’s head quirked with interest. “The twins? Are you referring to Frankie and Jason?”
“Yes, sir. The rumor is that one of them had taken some kind of interest in her and was harassing her. We think, perhaps, whoever this man was, he might know her whereabouts.”
“Are you claiming one of my men harmed this woman?” the Dai Lo asked.
Nico shook his head. “Not exactly. But if he was that obsessed with her, maybe he could at least give us some ideas of where to look for her.”
“Are you sure you’re not just out to get revenge on the men who attacked you?” the man asked Mal.
Mal made eye contact, then quickly looked away. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t like some payback, but this is hardly the first time I’ve taken a beating. My need for revenge isn’t so great that I’d risk starting a war with the GTB.”
“Did someone imply you were attempting to start a war?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Mal shook his head. “No, but the men who attacked me seemed to think we’d questioned the people at the market on Jericho’s orders, which isn’t the case. I’m looking into this because my student is very worried about her mother.”
The Dai Lo glanced at Jericho. “Well, he is the head of your clan. It makes sense that he would have given the orders.”
“We did ask permission from him, but we were not acting on his behalf,” Nico said. “If that makes sense,” he added begrudgingly.
The man’s lips twitched in a barely-there smile. “It makes perfect sense.” Then, after a beat of silence, the Dai Lo said, “So, you’re asking my permission to question the two men who attacked you?”
Mal nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The man curled two fingers over his shoulder. Another man with two face tattoos and a shiny black ponytail bent down so the Dai Lo could whisper into his ear.
“Let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this right now.”
“Right now?” Nico parroted, voice raising an octave. “As in?—”
“I refuse to waste my time with low-level lackeys. I prefer we go straight to the source. I’ve asked them to fetch my son.”
Nico choked on his own spit. “Your son?”
The Dai Lo looked at Jericho. “Your children are quite amusing.”
“They have their moments,” Jericho said, sounding both exasperated and fond.
The Dai Lo grinned, revealing teeth so perfect they had to be veneers.
“How about a drink while we wait for Leo?” Mama Conti asked. “Thomas has brought a bottle of fifty-year-old Moutai Baijiu from his personal collection.”
The Dai Lo looked at Thomas. “The Pu’erh Tea was more than enough. You’re spoiling me.”
“I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion. Very few people I know can appreciate its unique taste,” Thomas said.
“How could I refuse?” the Dai Lo asked.
Francesca turned and whispered to the son who sat opposite Lorenzo. Dario? Lucky, maybe? It was hard for Nico to remember them all. He stood and excused himself. While they waited, Thomas, Francesca, and the Dai Lo exchanged pleasantries. Nico learned that the man had attended an international school all throughout his teens, learning English from several British instructors, and that he’d attended Tsinghua University, which was China’s version of MIT.
When Mama’s son returned, he held a mustard yellow box with red writing on it. He showed the box to each of them before opening it and pulling free a cylindrical bottle. He cracked the seal in front of them, then poured glasses for everyone at the table, including Mal and Nico.
