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"Whoa, do you need a woman to bring out your lighter side, or what?" He smirks.
"Speak for yourself,brother."I crack my neck. "Moving on," I glance toward Luca, "what’s the latest on the mole? Have we found out who’s been spying on us and passing information to the Seven, yet?"
The Seven are amongst the richest, most powerful men in England. They were also the men that my father had kidnapped and held for ransom when they were very young. One of my father's informants had ratted out the details to the cops in exchange for being allowed to leave the country anonymously. The man had never been found, but the Seven have never let up in their vendetta for revenge. So far, they have not been able to confirm who was behind the kidnapping either... That is, until someone on my team started sharing our secrets with them.
"You’re not going to like it," Luca warns.
"Don’t let that stop you." I raise a shoulder. "I assume that means we have a suspect?"
"One of the accountants on my team, as it turns out." Christian elaborates, "He was caught trying smuggle data from the London office."
"The systems there are virtually impenetrable." I tighten my fingers on the chair.
"Nothing is impenetrable. You should know that," Luca reminds me. "Anyway, we brought him here."
I straighten. "He’s here?"
"In the usual place." Luca frowns. "I took the opportunity to work him over."
"Of course, you did."
Luca shifts in his seat. "He’s refusing to give anything up."
"Ah," I crack my neck, "clearly, you weren’t persuasive enough."
"Why don’t you have at it?" He scowls.
3
Michael
I stare across the length of the garden at the man who’s tied to a straight backed wooden chair. He’s at the perimeter of the garden, where the lawn slopes down to meet the sea.
I have no neighbors for a mile on each side of the shorefront. Which means the people I bring in here for questioning can scream all they want. They won't be heard by anyone else. It's one of the reasons I had chosen this specific building for my residence. It's just outside of Palermo, with a view of the sea I appreciate most mornings when I have my espresso on the terrace of the house.
When the weather doesn’t permit, and if I still need to carry out questioning of the sort about to take place today, I have a soundproof room in my basement, tucked away two levels below the house.
For now, though, I prowl over to the man who is slumped in his chair. Blood drips from his temples and his nose, splattered on the front of his no-longer-white shirt, which is torn in places.
"Untie him," I order, and Antonio walks toward him. He loosens the restraints and the guy almost falls over. Antonio props him back up on the chair. The man’s eyes flicker open; he glances up at me and pales. He opens and shuts his mouth, but no voice emerges. He blinks rapidly, then wets his lips.
"Get him over there," I jerk my chin toward the rectangular coffee table with the settees on either side of it on the terrace.
I walk toward it and Antonio and Sebastian support the man between them as they bring him over. I take a seat and they lower him onto the sofa opposite me. The man sinks into the back of the settee.
"Get him some coffee and food," I order. Antonio walks away and the man glances up at me. He can’t be over thirty, but his hair is already thinning. His shirt outlines a paunch over linen pants which still retain their careful pressing.
"You’re close to your mother, aren’t you?" I murmur, and he gapes at me.
"How…how do you know?"
"Probably the only son?" I take in his pale features. "Father passed away a few years ago and now your mother cooks dinner and waits for you to come home so you can eat together. She has a circle of friends she plays card with every Saturday, has dinner with them, comes home a little tipsy and is occupied enough that it’s the only day of the week when you don’t feel guilty about leaving her alone, so you can head out and meet your girlfriend."
"C...capo," the man gulps, "please don’t hurt them."
"That’s in your hands entirely."
"I… I didn’t do it," he whispers
