Silence.
“So, something in her phone, or on her clothing,” Dominic mused. “Nahh, she’d know it was on her phone and if she wanted to sneak off anywhere she’d leave her phone behind. Maybe something on a piece of jewelry?”
There was a long pause. Arturo’s voice sounded surprisingly mild – for him. “Don’t tell her.”
“Of course not, sir.”
Not just because it was a direct order from his boss. Also, because Giuliana would rip her uncle’s face off or die trying. Or she’d try to run away, and Arturo would catch her and lock her up for a month and Giuliana would make everyone’s life hell.
Arturo’s voice turned brisk and business-like. “Right. Attack on a pack member. We’ll have to answer.” By which he meant, kill someone from the Bianchi pack or sabotage their property. “Meet me at my office in forty-five minutes. Don’t bother fetching Giuliana, I’ll text her.”
Dominic headed straight for the Arena. Giuliana was already there, with Otto and Arturo, sitting in chairs arranged in front of Arturo’s desk. They were skipping the socializing today; Arturo was pissed. His ears had gone pointy and furry, and he didn’t even bother smoothing them out.
“Are you all right?” Giuliana asked Dominic, with genuine concern. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I’d have -”
“You’d have stayed out of it or I’d have grounded you until you were dead,” Arturo snapped.
“You can’t treat me like I’m a damned cub,” she muttered rebelliously. Arturo twisted to the side to fix her with his icy gaze and the temperature all around them dropped several degrees. He wasn’t a weather wizard; how did he do that?
“What was that?” He snapped.
“Nothing,” she said stiffly, and inclined her head to the left, exposing her throat in a show of submission.
“Yes, that’s what I thought you said. Nothing.” Then he addressed Dominic – making a big show of ignoring his niece, which Dominic knew infuriated her.
“We’re going to hijack one of their armored trucks tomorrow morning,” Arturo said. “Hit those bastards where it hurts – in the wallet.”
Dominic nodded. “I’m going to suggest that if possible, we take his men prisoner rather than kill them. That way we -”
“Bullshit!” Ottavio barked, interrupting him.
“Let him finish.”
Dominic continued as if Ottavio hadn’t said a word. “We actually make ourselves look better this way. We’re not just fighting the Bianchi’s, we’re fighting a war of perception. Right now, the Bianchis are presenting themselves as the aggrieved party. To the Council of Mages, by choosing not to kill, we look as if we’re showing restraint. But we take the men hostage, we hold them for ransom, and that’s double humiliation for the Bianchis. And if they don’t ransom their men, then their pack members start to question their leadership.”
Zoey would like that,he thought. He didn’t know why thoughts of her were popping into his head at a time like this, but he remembered the look on her face when he told her he had to go kill a man. And he hadn’t liked the way it made him feel.
“Can I suggest another option?” Ottavio was vibrating with anger.
“No.” Arturo dismissed him and turned away. “You will be in charge of this,” he said to Dominic.
“Sir?” Ottavio’s voice went up in scale and his face went furry with the effort to restrain his wolf. His clenched fists turned into paws.
“This is a situation that calls for diplomacy,” Arturo said curtly. “You tend to kill first and ask questions afterwards.”
Poor, simple Carlo sounded confused. “But Ott, how else would we do it? Ouch,” he added, as his brother punched him in the head. Then he let out a giggle. “That tickled.”
Chapter Eight
The community center was crowded, because the neighborhood residents were getting desperate. Even with the windows and doors shut, the sour smell of garbage permeated the air. Jordan sat in the front row, in his flashy suit and nice shoes.
Zoey, Danielle, Stewart, Lorenzo and Andrea were up on the podium in the front of the room, facing dozens of business owners and frustrated renters and homeowners.
They let Zoey do the talking about her plan for the community gardens, because her enthusiasm tended to be contagious. She had organized several successful fundraisers. Danielle, who had taken the night off from work, stood next to her and drank coffee, with her usual sour expression.
“We’ll have the greenest space in all of Encantado! And we can use the fruit and vegetables that we grow to set up a free community kitchen!” Zoey finished. That had been her favorite part.
But apparently the audience didn’t agree. They just stared at the women with expressions of horror on their faces.
