“Fuck me,” I breathed, turning on my cousin, ready to tear a strip off him for that comment. “You—”
“I’m a trophy wife who’s involved,” Mia said smoothly, twisting the negative into something that would suit her. She’d become an expert at reflecting snide remarks. It worked in Angelo’s favour that she stood in front of Luc, blocking any attack at the risk of hurting her. “And I’m hoping this isn’t a wasted trip because I’m beginning to think that you’re all mouth and no trousers.”
Angelo clamped his mouth shut. He hadn’t expected tiny, quiet Mia to fire back at him. She carefully collected insecurities and pulled the cards when she was backed into a corner. It was hard to miss Angelo’s narcissism and it made him an easy target.
“Let us worry about who’s involved and you just tell us what you know,” I said.
“You have answers, right?” Luc asked him. If possible, his tone had darkened from when he’d originally walked in.
“Yes, but not many. That phone,” Angelo gestured to the table where it laid, “has the number for a few different realtors. Was this guy looking at moving?”
“Realtors?” Luc and I asked at the same time, sharing a look.
“What the fuck was he looking for?” I said.
“Local?” Luc asked. “Or further out.”
“Still in the state, if that’s what you’re asking,” Angelo answered.
“Anything else?”
“There was another number from around here, but no one picks up. Probably another burner. I’m trying to trace it to see if I can get you a name or an exact location.”
“Someone here is keeping an eye out for him,” Mia said, looking a little pale.
“He’s got Gabe for that,” I told her.
“He doesn’t trust Gabe,” Luc said. “I wouldn’t either. Gabe’s not going to let that position go easily.”
“Then who?” Mia asked. She jumped as her phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she looked at the screen and declined the call, but Luc had glanced over her shoulder.
“What does Vittoria want?” he asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” Mia said sharply. “If she wants to talk, she can come to the house. She’s been calling me all day.”
“She might be the one feeding information back,” Luc said. “Wouldn’t be the first time Xavier’s played them off against each other.”
The twins may have been close, but they were also vicious. Growing up, Xavier had often pitted them against each other in his subtle manipulative ways and Tori usually fell short, all thanks to her gender. Xavier might have been protective of her, but he didn’t see the use in a daughter other than to spend his cash and keep his wife company.
“She wouldn’t,” I said, but even I couldn’t guarantee that.
“She wouldn’t need a burner,” Mia told us quietly. “She said Xavier calls in to check on Gabe. They aren’t trying to hide that communication. What would be the point? Whoever has that phone was probably behind the shooting,” Mia tried pulling together everything we had at hand. “Xavier might not have been that far away all along. Or maybe he left and came back but he’s definitely still pulling strings around here.”
“I want to know the minute you find out who or where this number is,” Luc told Angelo.
He gave a mock salute, and I resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. I had to give him some credit for making some headway with this. If Xavier was home, then it meant we were closing in on him and we could finish this business sooner rather than later. We could knock Gabe from the top spot without too much damage being done to our credibility.
“D, are you coming for dinner?” Mia was always the one with the invitation, the manners. They were ready to leave and regroup but I wouldn’t be joining them tonight.
I waved her off. “I’m good. I have a few things I need to do.”
“Okay,” Mia said, and she and Luc left.
“I’ll see you in work tomorrow,” Luc said to me over his shoulder.
“Not even a fucking thanks,” Angelo said when they were clear of the room.
“He’s paying you. They don’t need to thank you,” I swiftly reminded him. “I need to make a call.” That was as much of an explanation as I gave him before walking out into the yard, slamming the door shut behind me to get some privacy.
