“Everyone,” Benny, Antonio, and I said at the same time.
Nico scoffed. “That sure narrows it down.”
“It’s your job to narrow it down,” Antonio said. “Anyone talk to the president’s son?”
“I spoke with Secret Service earlier,” Benny said. “The president was in emergency surgery then.”
“Let’s hope his shooter also had bad aim,” Cassian said.
“I have people meeting us at Seven Seconds,” Benny said, referring to the nightclub my family owned.
It had been named after my father’s favorite game, which he’d invented. He used to give his enemies seven seconds to run before killing them.
Benny’s voice turned grim. “Prepare for a long night, guys. We’re not resting until every motherfucker involved in shooting my father stops breathing.” His stare locked on me. “You keep in contact with the president’s son. I want every single update.”
I nodded.
“Let’s keep in touch with Secret Service too,” Antonio added. “We need to know everything they know. I bet my ass these events are connected.”
“Someone is probably unhappy the president is working with us,” Benny said matter-of-factly.
Benny and Antonio had fought through bloody wars over turf and control of the city. They’d survived kidnappings, shootings,and enemies no one saw coming. They had more experience than any of us. I trusted them, and I trusted that we’d find whoever was behind this.
“We should get the Sons involved,” Nico said. “They have some of the best connections in New York. In the world. In every damn sector. That’s why we’re affiliated with them.”
Every man in the SUV nodded in agreement.
Benny looked at his son. “I want you in charge of that, then, as well as going through footage.” His attention slid to me. “Enzo, you keep in contact with Brooks and get all the information you can from the Secret Service.” He looked at Antonio next. “You talk to Liliya and Pippa about the Bratva and Irish.” Cassian was his next line of focus. “You and Cedric are coming with me.”
We were all armed when we stepped out of the SUV and split off to our vehicles to handle our assignments.
“I’m flying back to Saint Vale with the VP,” Brooks told me over a secure video chat fromAir Force Two. “We’re meeting with the Elders. They’re traveling from every corner of the world. They’re pissed off.”
I offered a nod from my dad’s office at Seven Seconds. I’d been in there for at least ten hours, making phone calls and digging for answers. Every hour or so, Benny came in to trade updates and ask what I’d found.
A few other Elders had also told Nico they were reaching out to contacts across the city for any clue who could be behind it.
These were the times when the value of being a Night Son shone through.
“Do you think it’s wise for the vice president to leave DC?” I asked.
“He’s meeting with the other Elders,” Brooks said. “We’re getting revenge on the fuckers who did this. Someone shot thepresident of the fucking United States. They all know if he stops being president, our power shrinks.”
Vice President Kirkland stepped into view, filling the frame.
“Enzo,” he said, “any new information to report?”
“We got intel on the car driven during the shooting. It was registered to a Miami car dealership.”
“We traced the vehicle involved in the president’s shooting to a Miami dealership too.” He lifted his wrist and checked the time. “The FBI is headed there to conduct a raid right now.”
“Who owns the dealership?”
“We haven’t confirmed that yet. We suspect it was registered under an alias because the name ties to an account in Cuba. One of the Elders has connections to their dictator. He’s meeting us tonight, and we’ll have him put us in touch.” He straightened the flag pen on his lapel. “I’ve spoken with every Elder. We’ll find out who did this. Will you be joining us for the meetings?”
While Brooks’s face didn’t come onto the screen, I heard his voice.
“They’re staying in the city,” he told Kirkland.
