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Luca

“This doesn’t answer any of the fucking questions I have.” I rub my temples in frustration. It’s been weeks since Layla’s grandfather had his fall. It’s been weeks of finding nothing. I stare around at my inner circle, where we’re gathered in my office at my club.

All cameras have been wiped.

Not only have the cameras been wiped, but the cameras in a mile radius have been wiped. Whoever did it was no amateur and has fucking contacts.

The questions are still building, who tried to kill me all those weeks ago, why did the Russians set me up, who ironically are still playing the We’re innocent card. Which we all know is bullshit, we saw the evidence on the driver. And finally the icing on the cake; who hurt Layla’s grandfather.

We also have the unfinished business with the Albanians move on Duchess' club. It’s all falling apart, and I cannot have the shipment with the Colombians go wrong, we are back precariously balanced on a knife's edge. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder what the fuck everyone has been doing.

“So how do you want to proceed?” Black asks. “We have less than three weeks before the first Colombian shipment. We can’t afford a turf war at the Thames.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

“We also can’t afford to just sit around and wait for whoever made his move to make the next one.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Asher. I’m also aware of how important that shipment is.”

“We can’t afford to piss about, Luca.”

I want to march over to where the fucker sits on my leather sofa, feet kicked up on the table like he doesn’t have a care in the world and throttle the bastard.

But instead, I clench my jaw and swallow down my annoyance, mentally adding Remind Asher some manners to my to do list and reply “We proceed as planned. Henry.” I look at my friend, and tech master. “Is the app at least ready to go?”

“Everything’s in place for the pilot.”

“What about the Albanians?”

“Covenant crews have started to cause problems just like we had planned,” Rome says from the leather sofa.

“So, if all goes to plan, that should break confidence with the Italians.”

“And keep the Covenant occupied,” Roman adds. “At least something is going right.”

“You really have been busy, cousin.” Levi nods from where he stands leaning against the wall. “I have to say I’m impressed, misdirect the Covenant to hit out at the Albanians, break their supplier chain and move in. Clever.”

I ignore him. “So, we carry on as planned”

“What about the Covenant?” Levi asks.

“What about them?”

“They need to be gone, Luca, I understand your plan but keeping them occupied doesn’t get rid of the fuckers.” Levi says, kicking off from the wall.

“Now, I understand Duchess’ reasons, but why do you want them out so bad?” I ask, hands steepled under my chin. He doesn’t say anything but the tension rolling off him is palpable. Definitely something more. “So, deal with it.” I wave my hand at him, let him have his secrets.

Rome will find out. It’s only a matter of time.

“I can’t push the Albanians out, keep the Colombians happy, deal with the Covenant, and stop a war with the Russians, Levi. If you want to change the approach to how we deal with them rather than let them implode naturally then I can’t help you. I can’t fight four fronts.”

“If I deal with it, you can’t piss and moan after,” Levi says. “I will do this my way.”

“You can do whatever you want in the Covenant. Line them all up and fucking shoot them for all I care. Just don’t fuck off the Colombians in the process, we need their product!”

“So be it.” he utters after a moment and walks out.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Rome asks after the door nicks shut.

“I think Duchess is going to kill her father, her uncle and every last breathing member of her family. Levi, well, Levi will pass her the bullets.”

All eyes are on me.

What does he know that I don’t? I glance across at Roman.

“We’re missing something.” He nods. “Dig deeper and will someone please bring me a god damn Russian!”

Fletcher and Jackson leave the office, hell bent on finding me a Russian, and I’ll make them squeal like a pig.

“There’s one thing we haven’t talked about. The care home,” Isla says quietly, and my head whips to her where she at least has the consideration to look apprehensive.

“It could have just been a fall,” Isla says quietly. “He’s old, accidents happen.”

“Then explain Mr White. Explain to me how there is no video evidence of someone even going to visit. Explain to me why all the cameras in the area are out. Explain that to me. I know you all think I’ve lost it when it comes to her, but there is something more going on here,” I snap angrily. “Don’t fucking question me, you all know what you need to be doing, so I suggest you go and fucking do it.”

They all stand, trudging out the office deflated and pissed. But I don’t give two flying fucks.

Everyone that is but Roman.

I reach into my top drawer grabbing a smoke, flipping my zippo and lighting it.

I would rather be with Layla, but knowing she is where I left her this morning fills me with the only peace this life can give me. Roman faces me as I smoke my cigarette.

“Go on then,” I say, stabbing out the remains in my ashtray. “Have at it, give me your assessment.”

“I’m not giving you my assessment, the fact that you’ve just snapped half our heads off tells me that you already know what I’m going to say. So why bother saying it.”

“You think I’m in love with her?”

“I know you’re in love with her, as do you. Which sometimes means we miss things that are in front of us.”

“Which is what? What about today have I missed?”

“Layla’s found something.”

From Chiswick, Katy and Layla go back to their flat in Kensington. She should be at the penthouse, so why have they gone home?

I’m sitting at the club staring at the dot on the screen of my phone hoping that the blue blob gives me an inkling to what Layla is thinking.

But it doesn’t.

It’s just a featureless blue blob.

Layla’s found something.

Roman's voice echoes in my head, the words pinging around like a fucking pin ball machine. What the fuck has she found?

A garbled message from Katy to Roman that they were going to Chiswick is the only information I have to go on, as my little temptress is ignoring my calls.

I left her this morning going through the vast documents that she had in storage from her parents, so it doesn’t take a genius to work out that it’s linked to whatever was inside. I tap my lips and go over the last few days, racking my brains.

I’ve got a niggle.

I dial Henry, something scratching at the recesses of my brain, something from the gala dinner. After she went to the loo, before we left, she was…distant.

“What’s up?” he answers quickly.

“I need you to go through security footage from the gala dinner.”

“And what am I looking for?”

“I want you to track Layla’s movements from the evening. See who she spoke to apart from us and Levi.”

“Okay. I’ll call if I find anything.”

“No. Send it to me.” I hang up and pull up my maps. Seeing the little blue dot on the move. “Where are you going, my sunshine?”