Page 14 of Mafia Scars

Demarco was the leader of the gang Amelia and her team were investigating. Demarco had put out a new type of class A drug that was becoming popular on the streets.

Amelia knew the whole of that was just a distraction to flesh out her identity, but everyone else thought they were trying to get the biggest drug lord ever. The thing was, just like Victor, Demarco was a pawn. Not like Montgomery, who worked for Demarco, but a pawn nonetheless. Despite what this was all about, the threats still needed to be eliminated.

As far as I was concerned, Victor was the worst because he was a man who would stop at nothing to finish a job. It was always killings of the worst kind. He took pleasure in it.

If I could get to Demarco, maybe I could get Victor and enough intel so that I wouldn’t have to go to Chicago.

It was ridiculous. I could have sped things along with a phone call, but Raphael wasn’t taking any calls from anyone. I didn’t know what was going on back home, but it couldn’t have been good, and I was sure that suspicions had now been raised particularly with my father.

Pa had to have known by now that there were things Raphael wasn’t saying, that this was more than taking over the business, and that there were some elements of this whole fiasco that were entrusted only to me.

“Can you get me an address?” I’d try to see if Demarco could lead me to Victor, try to eliminate him and then head back to Chicago to see Raphael.

“You know I can.” Maurice cracked his knuckles and nodded. “Just give me twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours seemed like a lifetime when you were in a hurry to get everything sorted out.

Seemed like infinity when another man was moving in on the woman I wanted.

* * *

Maurice was true to his word, and even better.

In less than twenty-four hours, I not only had an address, but I was boarding the Belle Lamont. Demarco’s yacht.

He was hosting an auction, and not the usual kind where you bid on priceless art or one-of-a-kind objects.

This was an auction of women. My, how the times had changed. The men on the yacht were billionaires, and the women were all young. I doubted that the oldest was twenty-five.

Since I wasn’t here for that, I kept my focus on Demarco, who had been sitting at the head table while the auction took place. He was going into what I presumed was his office because I’d told one of the guards at the door that I wanted to see him. I gave my name, assuming full well he knew who I was.

“He’ll see you now.” A pretty, blond woman said. She came up to me and gave me that once-over look I usually got from most women. The ones who wanted my attention.

She locked her gaze on mine, but I looked away, focusing ahead of us toward the passageway, so she could see I wasn’t interested.

She led the way, wiggling her hips to draw attention to her ass.

We went on the upper deck and into another passageway that led to a series of offices. Demarco’s was the biggest one.

She let me in, and there he was, sitting behind a desk, smoking a Cuban cigar. That entrance he’d gone through earlier must have led to that door behind him.

He smiled when he saw me, and the woman left.

“The infamous Lucian Morientz. Wow. I can’t believe it.” He spoke with the hint of a Brazilian accent.

I walked up to his desk and sat down in the chair in front of him.

“I guess I should show you the same enthusiasm,” I replied with a crude smile.

“I’m more underground. You, on the other hand, are well known.”

“In Chicago, yes.”

“Here too, especially in the last few weeks. The mobster dating a cop. That’s big news. Although I suppose she didn’t really know who you were.”

I clenched my fists trying to remain calm. “No, she did not.”

“Do you want a drink?” He motioned to a bottle of Chardonnay.