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That was how Colin looked in the two pictures I found of him.
The moron was friends on his social media with multiple members of his organization, so everyone could link them together if they did a small bit of digging.
Done with social media, I headed to other areas of the internet. Darker areas for shadier people.
The North West End crew had always been into drugs of the designer sort, so that was no surprise that they were still fucking around with that.
What was surprising was how wholly they had neutralized the competition in the area.
The North West End area had always sported a lot of well-established organizations. The kind of small, but long-reaching groups that had been around for ages.
Cody had never touched the local organizations, no matter how big he got his own crew. It seemed like, to an extent, each crew chose their drug of choice, and everyone else agreed not to deal that shit.
Colin, though, seemed to be flexing his muscles. To get more of the money, most likely, but also to keep the other crews from trying to step to him.
What I could find written about Colin as a leader was that he was absolutely fucking ruthless and sadistic, not caring who he hurt, rather relishing in it. And by all accounts, he loved the fear the community had toward him.
I had to respect Cammie for not giving him what he clearly wanted from her because she knew he couldn’t be trusted with any more power than he already had.
That couldn’t have been an easy decision, given her situation, but she’d gone for what was better for the masses than just herself and her people.
I was just letting out a sigh when I realized I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
Looking up, I saw the two middle brothers—behind Nino and me but before our sister and August—standing there.
There was no clear rhyme or reason to the eye colors in the family. Some of the siblings got brown, some got blue.
Dante had the gray-blue, a color about the same as my one eye. Santo had the light, kind of honey-brown eyes like our mom.
Both of them were black-haired and tall, though. Dante was a bit more solidly built whereas Santo had a frame like mine.
They both had on dark gray suits, but Dante played his down a bit with a few buttons opened, revealing some of the dark black ink that covered damn near every inch of his body.
Dante’s hair was short, but Santo kept his long and usually pulled back.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked, since no one would ever accuse my brothers of being wine connoisseurs.
“Ma wanted us to remind you that Valley’s birthday is this weekend,” Dante said.
“Sounds like something that could have been a text.”
“But then we wouldn’t have walked in on you doing some light internet stalking,” Santo said, smirking at me.
“I don’t internet stalk. I’m not a teenager,” I reminded them.
“Still, can’t imagine checking the books or filling out a spreadsheet would have you that focused,” Santo said, shaking his head. “Do we need to check your search history?”
“It’s work shit. You know work, right? That thing you do to actually earn the money you bring home.”
“Hey, we’re on our way back from a job,” Dante said, shrugging. “What kind of work shit are you doing from the winery?” he asked.
And, yeah, that was a valid question. Since we tried like hell not to let our legit businesses and our less-than-legit one interconnect much. That was just asking for trouble.
“Research,” I told them. “Which is business for Luca, not you two,” I told them as I got up from my seat.
“Sounds almost personal to me,” Santo said, smirking. “Don’t you think, man?” he asked, looking over at Dante.
“Massimo? A personal life? I don’t think so,” Dante shot back.
