“Don’t bother thanking me. You’ll probably be killed by your own father.” I holster my gun and turn back to my car. “Good luck.”
Several miles down the road, I park and pull out Andreas’s phone. I took it from his body before I left the church.
The passcode is easy enough to guess. His birthday, the careless fool. And what I find inside makes interesting reading. Messages, dozens of them, to contacts saved under innocuous names that don’t match anyone in the Montoni organization.
One thread in particular catches my attention.
Zana is fucking hot. Is she seeing anyone?
She doesn’t date. But she likes pretty things. Buy her something sparkly and see what happens.
Zana.
Zana Sokoli. The Sokolikrye’sdaughter.
Tommaso thinks I haven’t been paying enough attention to Malus matters since I returned, but I know who Zana Sokoli is. Her father runs southern territories that he’s clawed away from the Barones and Lucanias. He has a reputation for cruelty that rivals that other Albanian psychopath, Dashamir Dervishi.
What I didn’t know was that my cousin was trying to fuck the Sokolikrye’sdaughter.
I scroll further. More messages. Plans to meet. Flirtatious exchanges that make my stomach turn. Andreas was being played like a fiddle, and he was too stupid and too horny to realize it.
They were meeting at a place called Paradise, a club in Sokoli territory that’s technically a bar but functions as a high-end brothel. The kind of establishment where powerful men go to indulge appetites they can’t satisfy at home.
I dial Nico.
He answers on the second ring. “Boss. I heard about the wedding. Crazy shit.”
“While you and Paulo have been dealing with Sokolis, did you ever meet Zana Sokoli?”
“I saw her a couple of times. Beautiful woman. Curly hair, big dark eyes, maybe twenty years old. She spends most of her time at Paradise.”
“Thekryewhores out his own daughter?”
Nico laughs. “I wish. Then I might have fucked her. No, she sort of just…hangs out there. Watches. Listens.” He pauses. “It’sstrange, actually. The girls all seem to respect her like they would thekrye.”
Interesting.
“Thanks, Nico. I’ll be in touch.”
I hang up and open Andreas’s messages again. My thumbs hover over the screen.
Then I type to Zana:Need to see you. Urgent. Tonight.
The response comes within minutes:Paradise at ten.
Paradise won’t do. I need to get her away from all the security guards who’ll be inside.
I type a reply:Not Paradise. I’m being followed. Sending an address. Meet me there.
Zana:Fine. Don’t keep me waiting.
I smile, but there’s no warmth in it.
I won’t.
Paradise doesn’t liveup to its name, unless your idea of paradise involves neon signs in pink and purple, a red carpet leading to black double doors, and groups of noisy men coming and going.
I wait in my car in a dark section of the lot, watching the entrance. The club is busy tonight, a steady stream of clientele coming and going. Most of them don’t interest me.
