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Four
Damian started at the beginning.He didn’t know how much Locke knew, how much he’d been told by Nico and the other Syndicate leaders, and he wanted the other man to be in possession of all thefacts.
Locke asked the occasional question, but other than that, he listened without comment as Damian took him through everything that had happened. He glossed over his relationship with Aria, but he’d seen the flicker of interest in the other man’s eyes when Damian mentioned that she was Primo Fiore’ssister.
He wasn’t crazy about the fact that Aria had to sit in on the conversation — the last thing she needed was to relive everything that had happened in the previous months. But he hadn’t even tried to convince her to stay in New York. She wouldn’t have agreed, and the truth was, he didn’t feel safe leaving her there with everything that was going on with Malcolm andStefano.
Not after what had happened onCapri.
It was one thing to leave her well-guarded while he was less than an hour away, but another thing entirely to leave her on one side of the country while he traveled to theother.
The hit on the Tribeca apartment had been too close for comfort. It hadn’t been under guard like the house in Westchester, but he wasn’t taking any chances when it came to Aria’ssafety.
And he hadn’t been lying — the sunshine would do hergood.
Still, he hated having to explain her kidnapping to Locke, having to tell him that Primo had been in on it from the beginning. He hated even more to relive the night of Aria’s shooting. Just saying it out loud produced a traumatic response in his body — the image of her stepping in front of him after Primo fired the gun, the horror blooming through his chest as she fell to theground.
It was still too fresh. Tooclose.
He said it anyway. If Locke was going to help them, he needed to know itall.
When he was done talking, Locke’s gaze travel to the Pacific, stretching out beyond the edge of theterrace.
Damian took advantage of the opportunity to study the other man while he processed everything Damian had toldhim.
Even Damian’s impressive cyber capabilities hadn’t been unable to turn up a photo of Locke Montgomery, but when Nico and the others had used the word “mercenary”, Damian had immediately conjured the kind of gung-ho, ex-military who usually went into that line of work. They were typically beefy and bearded, unmitigated testosterone seeping from their pores like booze from a drunk the night after abender.
No wonder he wassurprised.
Locke was lean and muscled, with the physique of a world-class athlete. Even without the boards lining the terrace, Damian would have assumed Locke was a surfer. He had that look about him, a combination of ease and recklessness that spoke of rogue waves and long days in thesun.
The Buddha pendant around his neck was another piece of an already strange puzzle. Damian should have had doubts. He was a New Yorker through and through. He believed in violence and muscle, in intellect andstrategy.
A meditative surfer shouldn't inspire hisconfidence.
And yet there was something about Locke Montgomery that did inspire confidence. It was a barely contained, chaotic energy that made Damian think of a hurricane; it looked like any storm when you were in the middle of it, but seen from above, a structure emerged that was designed for maximumdestruction.
“And they weren’t off the grid before?” Locke finally said, returning his eyes toDamian.
“No,” Damian said. “We were picking up a lot of chatter, intercepting emails and texts, shipments throughcustoms…”
“That will help,” Locke said. “They’re not used to working off-grid. They’ll makemistakes.”
“We haven't caught any,” Cole said. “We’ve been too busy cleaning up afterthem.”
He’d been silent while Damian explained, but Cole was right: they’d been forced to play defense, their offense rendered impotent by their inability to find order in the New Yorkattacks.
Locke nodded. “And what about Gatti and Anastos? Are they in NewYork?”
“It’s hard to say when we’re working blind,” Damian said. “But buzz from the few men we’ve been able to pick up is that Anastos, at least, is inGreece.”
“And Gatti?” Lockeasked.
“He’s a ghost right now.” It was hard for Damian to admit. Malcolm wasn’t as erratic as Primo, and he wasn’tstupid.
He also wasn’t any kind ofgenius.
That Damian had been unable to track him was a source offrustration.
