"I don't know how he got my name," I state flatly. "I didn't leave anything behind that could trace back to me."
"You left bodies," Massimo states.
"Bodies don't talk," I clarify.
"They do when someone is asking the right questions," he shoots back. I can hear the tension in his voice now. Not anger. Calculation. "Javier Salazar is not asking. He's demanding."
My teeth clench hard enough to ache. "I left no witnesses."
"I believe you." We've been through too much shit together for him not to. He and I are tight like brothers. "Which is why this is a problem."
A sigh. Then. "Walk me through it," he orders.
"They had Audra and her husband at a warehouse," I fill him in.
"Why? Does it have anything to do with the Collector?"
I look out over the Strip. Neon bleeds into the darkening sky. But I don't see it. What I see isher. On her knees. Gun in her hand. Eyes empty of fear.
"No. The husband, Pete, was digging into things he shouldn't have. He had no idea who he was dealing with."
"Salazar knows it was you," Massimo restates. "It's not a guess. Not a suspicion. He knows."
That doesn't sit right. At all.
"How?" I want to know. But my mind is already homing in on suspects. I told Massimo a few days ago that we had a rat in our midst. Looks like I was right.
"If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation," he spits.
Fair enough. I run a hand over my jaw. Think. Fast.
There's only one possibility. "Someone talked."
"Or someone wants it to look like they did," Massimo counters immediately.
Yeah. That tracks with the fucking Collector. But why and how would that asshole be involved in this?
"How the fuck would he know about it?" I curse without explaining whoheis. We both know. El Recaudador.
He's been calling every one of ouremployees, offering rewards for intel, and offering better jobs. He wants us to mistrust each other. My mind goes over the men who were at the warehouse. Alessio. Damiano. Mauro. No. Out of the question.
Brick.
I almost scoff. The man would let you peel him apart layer by layer and laugh at you. That leaves Rivas. The other man tasked with guarding the cartel prisoners.
"One of my men talked," I admit, cursing under my breath. I didn't just pick the guys to watch the prisoners at random. They're trusted. They've been with us for years.
"Who?" He barks.
"Fucking Rivas." I hate saying it out loud. Thinking that he's a rat. But it has to be him. There is no other option other than the Collector being omnipresent, and I won't give him that much power.
"Get on top of it," Massimo orders.
I stare at a cop car racing down the street far below. Blue lights flashing, going after some schmuck. My free hand runs through my hair, while my mind churns.
"The Collector either wants us to eat each other alive, kill Rivas, or?—"
"—force us to make a mistake," Massimo finishes.
