1
Angelo
Chaos reigns supreme. Loose cables snake over desks and floors, no longer connected to computers. There are empty coffee cups abandoned on every available surface, and the employees still here stand around looking shell-shocked.
Agent Lincoln has been in his element. The man clearly believes he’s a heartbeat away from the biggest result of his pathetic career.
I forced myself to remain calm while Lincoln’s team ran through the place like a swarm of locusts, but inside, I’m livid. When I find out who this informant is, they will regret the day they crossed me.
There’s a nagging voice in my head that says Chiara could be the informant, but I refuse to believe my wife betrayed us. Besides, when would she have had the opportunity? She doesn’t have a phone or access to the internet, and I never let her leave the house without guards.
Chiara might be a pain in my ass, but she would never be so disloyal. She knows damn well that taking me and my father down would hurt Fina and Luka. Not to mention Kane.
Yes, Chiara might hate me, but she has a soft spot for my sister. And much to my annoyance, she definitely doesn’t hate my brother or Kane.
Kane wanders in with a fresh cup of coffee for me. He ignores Martin, who’s busy making phone calls.
“Have you spoken to Lorenzo?”
I shake my head. Dad will find out soon enough. “Did Chiara arrive back safely?” I sent her home ages ago.
“Let me call Carlo.” He taps his phone and waits for Carlo to pick up. Long seconds pass, and my sixth-sense flares to life. Carlo knows to pick up when we call.
“He’s not answering.” Kane tries Tucker, and then the other team. Still no reply. So he calls the house and has a terse conversation with the guards on duty. “Fuck. They never got there.”
I no longer care that I’m facing financial fraud charges and decades in jail. None of that matters if my wife is missing.
“Let me see where the cars are.” Every vehicle has a GPS tracker. My fist clenches as Kane opens the app to check the vehicles’ locations. Whatever he sees makes him swear loudly.
Martin glances up, concerned. Not wishing to distract him, I walk into my inner office with Kane and slam the door shut. Then I snatch the phone from him to see for myself where the cars are.
If the data’s correct, both vehicles are deep in gang territory. A poverty-stricken area where many of the lowest street gangs live and work.
Some of them are loyal to us, but not all.
She’s in danger. Not only because she’s an attractive woman caught in the middle of a pack of feral wolves who’d sell their own grandmother for a hit, but also because she’s my wife and some of the more desperate fuckers will see her as a bargaining chip.
If Carlo has betrayed me and deliberately taken her there, he’s a dead man.
My men maintain a secure perimeter as we step out of the car. I glance at the gang graffiti daubed on crumbling concrete walls. The stench of deprivation hangs heavy in the air as I gaze around, searching for any sign of my wife. A used condom dangles from a scrubby bush like a fucked-up Christmas decoration, and I grimace in disgust. This is probably where the local hookers bring their johns.
The wind picks up, lifting loose refuse and sending it swirling skyward. The warm breeze helps cool the sweat prickling my skin.
I should be with our lawyers right now, discussing strategy, but I can’t find it in me to care about the mess I left behind. If the FBI had enough evidence to arrest me, they’d have done it by now.
My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. Dad has tried calling a dozen times. Fina too. They must have heard the good news.
“Angelo.” Kane gestures toward a burned-out car. The wreckage still smolders. I swallow hard as we approach, all of my senses on alert for a possible attack. Kane doesn’t look at me. His focus is on the vehicle.
The GPS chip signal died while we were driving here, but we already had the location mapped. This is the car Chiara left the office in. We passed the other SUV half a mile back. Both of the men were dead.
I can barely breathe as I reach the charred wreckage. Kane points to a corpse in the front passenger seat. It’s obvious from the skull damage they were shot before the fire, and from the build, it’s not Chiara.
“Must be Tucker. Carlo was driving,” Kane says in a low voice. Like me, he’s close to losing his shit.
Vinnie calls my name and hustles over.
“Bruno’s found Carlo’s body,” he pants. The fat fuck needs to lose some weight. He points to the half-open warehouse door to our left.
