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That puts me on alert, and I quickly log into the cameras in Aliana’s home, finding her walking through the living room toward her room holding a laundry basket. She’s talking to someone, laughing, but before I can turn the speakers on, Giannis’s name flashes across my screen.
I press answer, and all I hear is a muttered, finally. “Callum? You there?”
“Yes.” Tone annoyed, I snap at the interruption. My need to know who she’s giggling with claws at me. “What’s with the calls and messages?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he starts, voice a bit shaky, and I pause. He’s not one to reach out outside of his reporting, and even then, I can tell he wants to get off the phone quickly. I intimidate him. “She’s left me with no choice, though. Stubborn woman.”
“Get to the point.” Tossing the towel still in my hand and the one around my waist onto the bed, I grab the plain grey pajama bottoms and slip them on sans underwear. It’s a warm night out, the windows are open, and a soft breeze comes in off the coast that isn’t far from here. Between that and the ceiling fan above my head, I find it rather comfortable. “You’re rambling is rather off-putting.”
“Callum, before I begin, please know that I told her to tell you. I’ve been arguing with her over this for the last few days and—”
“What the bloody fuck is going on with Aliana?” My breathing is harsh, my grip on my mobile causing the plastic to strain. “Straight to the point. No more bullshit.”
“Her father is sending her to Brazil on an errand by herself.”
“Come again?” I must’ve heard wrong. Because that’s not what my sweet Venus told me.
Two days ago…
Hey, you got a minute? ~Venus
Her text comes through while I’m sitting in on a meeting with our gun supplier, giving him the courtesy of knowing there’s been a change in power. Not because we have to, but because he’s worked with our family for a long time, and we consider him a friend. Or at least, his father was. This bloke I find to be an obnoxious twit with the personality of a potato.
In a meeting. What’s up? ~Callum J.
Three dots appear on the screen and then disappear. Start up again and then nothing.
Are you okay? ~Callum J.
A throat clears and I look up, meeting Alfie’s eyes. “Are you listening to me?”
His tone doesn’t sit well with me, and I lean back, drumming my fingers on the table. “No. I’m not.”
“And this is who you chose to take Casper’s place?” he questions my uncle and father, that haughty arrogance coming through again, and I exhale roughly. It’s been a busy few weeks between my stepping up while Casper searched and killed the man who shot his mum. I’m constantly traveling to where he is if I’m needed, and also dividing the men between who I will keep, and who will be moving abroad.
Most know what’s going on, but the announcement’s been pushed back for a reason.
I want to go through each person on our roster, from vendor to buyer to the fucking arse that delivers the morning paper.
My uncle vetted his people.
Casper vetted his crew.
I will decide mine.
Of the four people in the room, two move one hand beneath the table at his blatant disrespect while I look at the last message that came in.
I’m fine, just need to talk when you get a chance. ~Venus.
Give me ten. ~Callum J.
Placing my mobile face down atop the table, I meet my father’s eyes and then look at the door. He gets it and stands, walking to it and then locks it while my uncle glares at the git. This makes Alfie nervous, and he shifts in his seat while the man beside him pales.
I feel for the bloke. He truly seems like he abhors his job.
“You’re fired.” At those two words, his head snaps in my direction, eyes wide. He tries to say something, to protest, but I hold a hand up. The same one that now holds my gun. “Our contract is now void, Mr. Buford.”
“You can’t do that,” he gasps, looking toward the older men inside the room for support. There’s none there, and Alfie swallows hard at the other weapons placed upon the table. “We’ve been in business for so long. Your cousin wouldn’t agree—”
