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As he calls Daza, his brows tighten together, twisting harder when he tries the number again and again. I don’t like that look on his face. All the toughness seems to fall away as he coughs and tucks his phone away.
He sighs as he tugs on his shirt, trying to air out some of the fresh sweat that’s pooled on his chest. “Straight to voice mail.”
I smack the back of my desk chair. “Son of a bitch.”
“Do you want me to grab a few men and look for him?”
I shake my head and tap the desk. “No point. He’s probably not in Queens. Or anywhere.” I tug on my collar and nod toward the door. “Go on, Lucio. I have a call to make. Come on; get Donnie over here. Get me ice. Get me afanfor fuck’s sake.”
When Lucio disappears, I slam my fist on the desk. How the fuck could things go sideways so fast? I had everything under control, all my bases covered. And some sly hitter waltzed up to home with a ratty bat and knocked me out of the park somehow.
I can’t make a call now. I’m too pissed off. I have tothink.
“Pavel is pushing me over,” I mutter. “He’s fuckin’ knocking all my chess pieces off the board.”
I grab the closest object—a cup of pens—and hurl it across the room. A few more items go with it—paperclips, a planner, a stapler, a box of notepads. I’ll pile the entire office on the other side of the room if it makes me feel better. It won’t change a damn thing about what Pavel is pulling, but it’ll help.
I rub my head. And this fucking heat is about to make me blow a fuse.
It’s oppressive and sticky, reminding me of my younger years spent in Brooklyn. No central air, just a shitty box unit in the window and enough fans to blow us off the building if we put them on too high. One moment is all it takes for me to feel like I’m trapped in that sweltering room again.
But I’m better than that now. I’m on top of this city—practically own it. I have hundreds, if not thousands, of men under my thumb—both inside and outside of these walls. Enough to build an army if I want.
I yank the blinds up and pop open the window. City noise pours into the office. Air swarms the room as I loosen my shirt, recline, and try to cool off. It’s a warm breeze, but it’s still a breeze, and it’ll work until that moron gets here to fix the A/C.
Pavel’s smarter than I thought. I dab my head and cheek with my handkerchief while staring at the intersections below me.I need to change my strategy. Stop fucking with pawns and start putting my knights into action.
I massage the cloth into my chin. Guys like Daza fuck off occasionally. It’s just their nature. Some whores and drinks are all they need to get distracted. But they always come back like well-trained dogs. It’s why I keep them around. They stay busy, but I keep them busier.
But that’s not what grinds my gears.
The timing is what sets me off. Those five galleries got hit a week ago and then one of my guys gets wiped from the map right after? If it’s just one thing, then it’s a coincidence. But both? That’s a pattern. Daza might be a hedonistic prick, but he at least has the consideration to tell somebody where he’s at, even if it’s a quick text. And it’s always within a day or two of him disappearing.
He’s probably sleeping at the bottom of the East River.
Which means some changes are in order.
When I calm down a little, I grab my phone from my pocket and make the call. The line trills twice and then clicks live to a host of background noises—papers shuffling, phones ringing off the hook, keys clacking. It’s a goddamn mess.
And through that mess comes a confident voice that booms, “Captain Howard Sharp.”
“Captain, it’s Felix,” I say. “We need to talk.”
“One moment, please.” It’s quiet until he comes back. The background noise has ceased. A chair creaks and then he says pleasantly, “Don Cardona, what can I do for you today?”
I sigh. “We’ve got a problem, Captain. I’ve lost one of my men.”
“Do you want me to put out a search with my guys?”
“No, I want to change some things around. Just for a short time. We need to send clean cops and not our own whenever a business gets hit, understand?”
He clears his throat. “With respect, Don, why in the world would I do that?”
“We got a problem with some local scumbag who thinks he can rob me.” I dab my forehead and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Daza is missing. He was supposed to move some money, and he got whacked. He usually watches the fake businesses to make sure things are running smoothly.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
I shake my head. “No, but his phone goes straight to voice mail, which means it’s been smashed.”
