“I can agree to a favor as long as you tell me what it is,” I state.
Hetsks. “I only accept open-ended favors. Don’t worry, it will be something within your skill set and means to fulfill. When the time comes.”
I hesitate. Under any other circumstances, I’d never give someone a favor—carte blanche. But this is Blake, theBlack Baron, and the only man who can possibly get me what I need. Beggars can’t be choosers and all of that.
“Deal.” Why do I feel like I just sold my soul to the devil?
I can practically hear his triumphant grin as he says, “What can I do for you, Pontrelli?”
I swallow my pride. “Someone is trying to kill me and I need to know who it is. Can you tell me?”
“Do I look like I own a fucking crystal ball?”
“No,” I respond, my patience slipping. “But you have your… sources. I need you to look into it.”
“The man you need for this job is Niall Bane. I’ll text you his number.” The call ends.
Motherfucker. I suppose he still thinks I owe him a favor even though he’s passing this off to someone else. I groan.
My phone pings with his text message. It’s just a shared contact, no note or anything. With a sigh, I tap the number, hoping this call will be more fruitful than the previous one.
It rings three times before a masculine voice answers, “Bane Security.”
“Hello. Blake Baron gave me your number and—” The line goes dead.
What the fuck is wrong with these people?If I ran my businesses like this, I wouldn’t have any customers.
My phone rings. The screen shows an unknown caller. With a sigh, I answer, “Hello?”
“This is a secure line. State your business,” Niall Bane barks. At least I assume it’s him, as he sounds like the guy who just hung up on me.
“As I was saying,” I slowly growl. “Blake Baron gave me your number. I asked him to look into something for me and he referred me to you. But I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you can help me.” My annoyed tone doesn’t seem to offend him one bit.
“You need information. Intel of some sort. Tell me what it is.”
“Hold on. Who are you exactly?”
He heaves a sigh, as if I’m wasting his precious time. “I’m the man who doesn’t do this type of work anymore, and yet Baron keeps dragging me back into it. The only reason we’re talking right now is because he called in a favor. Which means Ihaveto help you, don’t mistake that forwantingto help you.”
He did? I’m surprised Blake would do such a thing for me—I guess I really do owe him one now.
The guy continues, “I’m Niall Bane, owner of Bane Security. This call, and any future correspondence, never happened. And we don’t know each other. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Pontrelli?”
I’m hesitant to trust this stranger, but Blake’s left me no other choice. It’s not like I have a lot of options either. The clock’s ticking and I need answers before those fuckers strike again. Before someone actually gets seriously hurt.
“Someone’s trying to take me out. The last attempt was yesterday while I was on my yacht.” I give him the details, everything I remember, and answer his numerous questions. He’s all business and no bullshit, which I appreciate.
“And who within your…organizationdo you suspect?” he asks.
“Unfortunately, several people who are closest to me. To start with, Lazaro Achilli, Julius Fabini, and… Portia Rizzo.”Though that last name doesn’t sit well with me. She wouldn’t betray me, would she? I can’t bring myself to believe it. Though she did put Elena up to it, so I just don’t know what to think. Or what the hell is going on there. Better safe than sorry.
“I’ll be in touch if I need anything else from you, or when I have information.” He hangs up.
I set down my phone and pour myself a cognac from the car’s minibar. I just named my potential enemies aloud: My underboss, my consigliere, and my mother’s best friend.
CHAPTER 40
Elena
