“We’ll go together,” I say.
Tony flinches for the briefest moment, but covers it with an overenthusiastic nod. “Then let’s roll out.”
The few patrons in the gallery stare at us like we’re a pack of wild animals as we walk across the open room. We push into the back staircase and stalk up toward the office. I just hope that Ava isn’t working today or, if she is, she’s out on a job that will keep her away from the office.
My worlds are colliding, and I don’t like it one single bit.
I slam my fist against Adrian’s office door. After a pause, Tony grunts, “Fuck this.” He shoulders the door open and barges in. Dante glances at me as if to say,He needs to chill. And he’s right. The last thing to do when blood has been spilled is to lose your cool.
Adrian leaps up from his desk, snatching off his headset. His eyes pop when they land on me, and his face drains of color. “What the hell are you doing?” he demands.
Tony pulls out his gun and points it at Adrian. “We’re asking the questions here!”
“Fucking hell, Tony,” I snarl. “Put that thing away.”
Tony reluctantly shoves it into his waistband. Dante leans against the wall near the door, and I walk to the other side of the desk. Tony stands at my side, seething.
“You need to tell me why one of my men was butchered like an animal,” I growl. “And why the painting you outbid me for is sitting in that motel room.”
Adrian narrows his eyes, staring at me like I’ve just spoken a foreign language. “Jesus Christ, Bellini. I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”
Tony starts walking around the desk, reaching for his gun again.
“Stop,” I snarl. “Right fucking now.”
Tony stops, moving from foot to foot, glaring at me, then at Adrian. “He’s lying, cousin.”
“Maybe so, and if he is, we’ll make him sing,” I snarl. “But onmyterms.”
Adrian looks at Tony in disgust, then slowly turns back to me. “I literally don’t know what you’re talking about… or how many goddamn ways I can tell you I’m not involved in the mob. I’ve got afriendwho’s in the mob, that’s it.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that the painting is there, like a signature, like a damn threat. Is it?”
“Let me call my warehouse. They can check the CCTV. Someone must’ve broken in and taken it.”
Tony throws his hands up. “Cousin, are we seriously going to listen to this shit?”
I drop into the seat opposite, shrugging. “Hell, it can’t hurt,” I say. “Have them send the video through.”
“He could’ve staged a theft,” Tony says. “That’seasyto do.” My cousin’s face is going red, sweat sliding down his forehead in glistening beads.
“Relax,” I say. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Tony paces, running his hand through his hair. Adrian makes the call, talking to his people at the warehouse. I turn, look at Dante, see if he’s clocking the same thing I am… Tony is too damn nervous about this.
My mind begins to churn out possibilities. If someone wanted to frame Adrian and the Hungarians for this, stealing the painting would be a good way to do it.
Adrian hangs up. For two minutes, we sit in this awkward in-between state, Tony pacing, Adrian staring, and me hoping that my cousin hasn’t betrayed me, that he hasn’t been behind every goddamn bad thing that’s happened to me in this city.
Adrian’s phone rings. He answers. “Right, good, thank you. Yes. I get you.”
He sets the phone down, chewing the inside of his cheek, glancing at Tony.
“Apparently, someone threatened the security guard,” he says carefully. “A man with bleached teeth, perfectly combed hair, and a neat, clean suit.”
Tony stops pacing, glaring at Adrian. “Nice try, you Hungarian fuck.”
“They’re sending the footage through now,” Adrian goes on. “Apparently, whoever this was didn’t realize we have internal security cameras. In the office. Hidden in case anything like this ever happened.”
