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A sly smile spreads across my face. “We’re going to call for a truce, Cortez. They give us Mallory and they can have the ports. I know they’re cowardly idiots, so they’ll come. Then we make sure they don’t leave alive.”
Cortez nods his head again, the thought of having Bruno Moretti in his hands probably running through his mind.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Ask for confirmation of life every single day. The girl is our only chance. As long as she’s alive we have everything it takes to bring those fuckers down.”
Cortez nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Thank you, Brother.”
He leaves the office and I sit there for what seems to be eternity when I receive a call.
“Elio Donatelli,” I say into the mouthpiece.
“Mr. Donatelli, it’s Jack.” One of my guys from the NYPD. “I’m afraid I have bad news, sir.”
My teeth clench together even without hearing what he has to say. These days, bad news has become the order of the day for me.
“Just spill it already.”
“Sir, the men at the office have taken that button they picked up to forensics. They’re convinced that the button must belong to one of the people at the crime scene.”
My fingers reach up to knead at my throbbing forehead.How the hell did I get into this mess again, for fuck’s sake?
“What else?” I ask.
“That’s it, sir.”
I waste no time killing the call. Total silence hangs over the atmosphere for a full minute. For the first time in my life, I think I’m under some kind of jinx−if that is a thing.
I call for Cortez, and he walks in briskly. “They’re taking the damn button to the forensics, as we knew they would.” I don’t need to explain further. He understands.
As he makes his way out of the office, my head drops to my palms. I don’t care how long it’s going to take me. I’m going to sort out all the troubles suddenly showing up to haunt me and chase them back to the shadows where they came from.
Only this time, the shadows are darker, and the enemies are more cunning. And this time, the troubles aren’t just knocking at the door. They’re kicking it down.
***
I’m still sitting at my desk, reviewing a few documents, when the door suddenly swings open and Aria walks in.
She softly closes the door behind her, walking stealthily as her footsteps graze the hardwood floor. I don’t look up. Instead, I stare at the faint scuff marks left by Cortez’s boots when he walked out.
“Elio,” she begins, her voice soft but steady, “we need to talk.”
I glance up, meeting her gaze. Her dark eyes are full of something I can’t quite place: concern maybe, or doubt. “What’s on your mind?” A flick of my hand sends her back into the chair Cortez just rose from.
“Remember the list of mafia families I gave you the last time? I went to check in on my dad, and I saw him with it. He was ordering his men to hand over all information they’d gotten from the investigation on the second mafia family. He also said he has started on the Ezra-headed family already…” Her wordshit me like a freight train. My mind races, piecing together the implications. With her father on our tail, if the NYPD connects this back to us, it’s… over.
“...by the end of today, at most, he should have enough information to go after the two mafia families.”
I cannot let her father go ahead with whatever leads he must have gotten regarding my family. Whatever all this is about, I have to end it as soon as possible.
“Aria, your dad cannot lay his hands on anything that would implicate this family.” There’s no prearranged plan. The words just roll off my tongue as they’re forming in my brain, “I need you to stall his access to these documents.”
One of her neatly carved brows jerks up in question, “Even if I wanted to, how am I going to do that? My dad doesn’t involve me with anything that has to do with his job.”
“You will spend the night at your father’s house.” Her lips part quickly, probably to protest, but I don’t spare her a chance, “Those documents must be destroyed.”
“What makes you think he wouldn’t trace it back to me?” Her tone is fierce now, her eyes shooting lasers at me.