Page 43 of More Tricks

The true heir to the cartel is still out there.

“The fuck?” I blurted. “What does any of this have to do with us?”

When Sprocket didn’t answer, I looked over to see him reading the letter, utterly absorbed in it. Setting the picture down, I waited, glancing over the adoption papers again. The boy had been given up at what they guessed was around six months. He’d been found on the steps of a fire station in Boston. All he’d been left with was a note that said his name pinned to his blanket, Tommaso. The boy had been adopted shortly after into an affluent family who I knew had ties to the Italian mafia. They were no friend to the De León Cartel, but something had always held them back from making a move to take over. Now it had me wondering if it was because of Marco being the true puppet master.

“Whoever this is, really doesn’t want Diego in power. They just handed everything needed to make an official coup d’état happen over who rules the East Coast,” Sprocket explained. “This boy is Diego’s oldest son from his first wife he married, who I might add was the daughter to an incredibly important person in the Italian mafia. It was a way to broker peace, but when his wife suddenly showed up dead and the child gone missing, war broke out. This letter says that’s when he sold his soul to Marco so he could keep his hold over the East Coast. Now it has me thinking his second wife has a connection to Marco in some way. Which is why only those kids take his last name and can inherit.”

I sat heavily on one of the stools looking over the picture of the man who might just have solved all our problems. Yeah, there was still going to be a war, but even after we removed Diego, we’d need to come up with a plan to fill that void. If we had control over who that could be and built a strong alliance, it could change everything. Just imagining the biggest powers in the US who ruled the coastlines working together was mind-blowing.

“We present this to everyone, but I don’t want us making any moves until I look into things more. This paperwork and photos give us a place to start, but I’m not going to take some mystery person’s word as law. That and I plan to watch the security footage to see how the fuck they got to the house without anyone noticing,” I grumbled, tossing the photo on the counter. “Why the hell does this all need to be so complicated?”

Sprocket grinned at me. “With great power…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I laughed, shoving him. “Get the damn water and we’ll tell the others what happened.”

“You know doing that might cut your chances of getting your dick wet tonight,” Sprocket warned.

Shrugging, I gathered up the papers. “I waited thirty-some-odd years for her. Missing out on a night isn’t that big of a deal. Besides, now that she is mine, I have the freedom to wake her ass up later and fuck the shit out of her. Morning sex is a fantastic way to start the day.”

Sprocket smiled and laughed as he grabbed a bunch of water bottles out of the refrigerator. “You make a valid point, man. One that I will have to keep in mind for another time.”

“Yeah, well, you might want to clean up that shithole you call a room,” I suggested. “No woman wants to sleep on a twin mattress on the floor with engine parts scattered all over the place.”

“Guess I’ve never had to worry about it until now. I’d always go back to their place since Eagle didn’t allow fucking sweet butts in the house. He always said when we found the person we wanted for real, we’d appreciate not having mucked the palace up with other women,” he sighed, pausing at the top step. “Fucker was right, but you never heard me say that.”

Miming, I zipped my lips, tossed away the key, and grinned. “I told her the same thing, no fuck buddies at our house. There’s no way I would’ve been able to hold my shit together knowing someone was fucking the woman I’d always considered as mine in our house.”

“Ah, so that’s why she had the apartment,” Sprocket commented as we entered Cognac’s room.

The guys had their boxers on and were lounging on the bed watching something on the television while Dax sat in the middle of them all buck ass naked, glaring at us. “Where the fuck have you two been?”

“Calm down, shortcake,” I said, waving the envelope. “We got a surprise delivered. Sprocket and I were just making sure it was all clear. Last thing we need is another bomb making us homeless.”

Dax crawled forward and snatched the envelope right out of my hand. “Too soon, Westly, too soon.”

Sprocket flipped on the lights, making everyone mutter and swear at the sudden brightness.

“Shit, man, a little warning next time would be nice,” Eagle snapped.

It took them a moment, but they seemed to realize something had happened. Apparently, they’d all lost their brain power after sex. Dax read over everything, then read it again before looking up at us. “Is this true?”

“That’s what I plan to look into tomorrow. If it is, then this job got a whole lot easier but far more complicated,” I answered.

“We knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but if what these papers say are true, then it solves one part of this we hadn’t figured out,” she mused, handing over the papers to Cognac. “Does this mean we need to change the whole approach? Is the fight still necessary?”

“It will be even more important,” Cam interjected. “If the plan is to put the Italians in power, we need a reason for them all to be in New York without building suspicion. Everyone who's anyone is getting an invite. We just need to make sure those who can be trusted are informed.”

Glancing at the clock, I flinched, seeing it was two hours away from sunrise. “Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll deal with this after I’ve had a chance to do some fact-checking.”

Everyone nodded and while Cognac’s bed was big enough for us all to fuck on, it wasn’t to sleep on. Plus, we kind of made a mess out of it. I'm not sure anyone would want to sleep on it.

“Where’re you sleeping, little demon?” Void asked, brushing a hand down her arm.

She looked at me, then Cognac. “Wherever those two land, they were the only ones who didn’t get their happy ending.”

The guys snickered, but Picasso slapped Cognac on the back. “You three take my room in the loft, it’s big enough for the three of you, and I’ll take Weston’s bed.”

Cam leaned forward, invading Picasso’s personal bubble. “Does that mean I get to cuddle with you like I do dearest Westly?”