"You said you had information."
"Straight to business. I appreciate that." He gestures to a chair. "Sit."
I do, but my attention is split between Antonio and Saint. The latter is watching me with barely concealed amusement.
"How's the little wife?" Saint asks. "She pop out her little heir yet?"
My jaw tightens. "Watch yourself."
"Just making conversation." He leans back, hands behind his head. "Must be hard, having a brother-in-law who's a rat. Embarrassing, really." He laughs, leaning his head back. "Though I suppose you are about to have one who's about to breed your sister, and you seem fine with that."
I'm out of my chair before I can think, hand on my gun. "Say that again."
"Saint," Antonio says sharply. "Enough."
"What? I'm just saying?—"
"You're being an asshole. Stop." Antonio turns back to me. "Ignore him. He's in a mood."
"I'm always in a mood," Saint mutters.
I take my hand off my gun. Bianca will fucking kill me if I kill Saint.
I ignore him, focusing on Antonio. "You said you had information about Gabriel."
"We do." Antonio leans forward, his expression serious. "One of our dock workers came to me yesterday. Said Gabriel was asking around a few weeks ago. Looking for hired muscle. Men who could handle weapons. Men with military experience."
My blood goes cold. "Mercenaries."
"Seems like it. He was vague about what he needed them for, but he was willing to pay well. Cash upfront."
The safehouse attack. I suspected that Gabriel had something to do with it, and now I know.
He planned it.
Fuck, he knew his sister was going to be there, and he didn't give a fuck if she was caught in the crossfire, as long as he saved his own sorry ass.
"Do you have names?" I ask. "The men he hired?"
"We're working on it. My people are asking around, but these types don't exactly advertise." Antonio's jaw tightens. "What concerns me is why he needs a crew at all. The Gabriel I know is a coward. He runs, he hides, he makes deals. He doesn't fight."
"Because he's caught between the feds, the Morozovs, and me," I say. "And he thinks he can fight his way out."
"Or he's planning something bigger," Saint offers. "Maybe he's hoping to start a new syndicate. If he eliminates you and the Morozovs, there'll be a power vacuum." Saint shrugs. "And since he's your son's uncle..."
The idea is ridiculous, and yet, not impossible.
"He's not stupid enough to try that," I say.
"Isn't he? From what I've heard, your brother-in-law is a degenerate gambler with a death wish." Saint's grin is sharp. "Sounds exactly stupid enough to me."
"He tried to sell Sera to the Morozovs twice now," I say coldly. "So yes, he's desperate. Not suicidal."
"Maybe not yet. Give him time."
"I'd rather not give him any time at all." I look at Antonio. "Can your people find him?"
"We're trying. But he's slippery. And if he has federal protection?—"
