Page 28 of Code Name: Grit

“What are you thinking about?” Grit asked.

I raised my head. “Alliances.”

He raised a brow. “You’re wondering where the money’s coming from.”

“Exactly.” I stood and took the seat next to him. “Someone has to be underwriting what they’re doing.”

“Who makes the most sense?”

I thought it over for a few seconds, mentally running down the list of families. “Let’s work in the opposite direction. If it were the Magaddino or Palmary organizations, we’d see a presence from them. At least at the capo level. Plus, I doubt either has the kind of money this expansion must be costing Cassio.”

“Still ruling out the Patriarcas?”

“Yes, but less because of their mutual hatred than their lack of presence. No way in hell would Rafael Patriarca let Cassio do this without his participation.”

“Because he doesn’t trust him?”

I smirked. “To put it mildly.”

“What about the other big three? They have enough presence here in the city that we might not notice the difference from one family’s capos to the others.”

“Why would the Genoveses, Columbos, or Bonnanos allow the Belcastros to take over the Castellano territories? They’d each want it all themselves.”

“Who does that leave?”

“The Russian mob, Japanese yakuza.” I tapped my cheek. “But with the expanded drug trafficking…”

“Mexican cartels.”

“Bingo,” I said as our gazes collided.

Grit’s phone vibrated. “It’s Tank,” he said, accepting the call and immediately putting it on speaker. “Hey, Lumi’s here with me.”

“Good. Atticus picked up some chatter about a big pow wow at Galliano’s in Little Italy.”

“When?” Grit asked.

“Tonight. I can position three of our guys near the restaurant, but I figured you’d want to be in on it.”

I nodded and zoomed in on the map. “There’s a vacant apartment on the third floor of the building across the street. It’sthe perfect vantage point for the establishment’s main entrance and the one on the side alley.”

“Copy that,” Tank responded. “I’ll make the arrangements and get back to you.”

When the call ended, Grit stood and walked over to the window. His shoulders tensed as he stared out at the city.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

When he turned to face me and his eyes bored into mine, the suite suddenly felt too small. “I’m distracted.”

“By?”

He raised a brow.

“Err, the cartel connection?”

He cocked his head and smirked.

“Guess not,” I said under my breath. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with me?”