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I raise my hand to silence the two from bickering. “Argentina?”
Miffed for being interrupted, Piero scowls at me. “Did I stutter? Yes, Argentina. What I’ve learned from my contacts is that Esteban bailed the country after your father’s SEAL team recovered your mother. He still controls Colombia’s drug market, but his home base is far away from his homeland. He’s got quite the hoard of cash crops there.”
This is fucking news to me. We suspected he could be residing in Brazil, Ecuador, or Venezuela, possibly even Peru, but never Argentina. They’re opposite ends of the continent.
Chase is already running back to his Batcave. The rest of us rush into the room behind him, finding him already pulling up a new search grid.
Piero trails in with the feisty brunette in his grasp. Rowan struggles to break away from him, but he’s got a death grip on her. “What about the brat?”
“You handle her,” I say, completely tuned into my work.
The mafia boss scoffs like I told him to go roll in pig shit. “Why do I have to handle her? Isn’t interrogation your area of expertise?”
Annoyed, I scowl at the young Don. “I think searching for my wife who is in the clutches of the sadist takes precedence over your need to get answers about your twat cousin’s accounts.”
“Extract answers from her, and I’ll supply you with anything you need for the mission.”
Every Mercy Ravens’ ears perk up. “Anything?” we ask in unison.
“Yes, anything,” Piero repeats adamantly.
Punk scrunches his nose. “Nah, Prez. He’s talking out of his ass.”
“I agree with Punk,” Gauge seconds. “Anybody can promise anything until showtime. He’ll back out.”
“I’ll fund the entire expedition with Bianchi dirty money if it sweetens the deal,” Piero counters, yanking out his phone. “Give me the account you want the funds wired to and it’s done.”
Now we’re cooking with grease.
Chase whistles low between his teeth before looking at me. “Keeps your pockets cushioned.”
Right he is. Chase use to do our accounts before Simone took over the books. He knows my net worth, and he knows I’m more than willing to drain my life savings dry to get my woman back. But now it seems I won’t have to. Not one for taking handouts, but using Lorenzo Bianchi’s spoils to get Josephine back seems like a fine way to flip the fucker off in his grave.Double win.
Gauge and I exchange a look before nodding in agreement. Rowan wouldn’t be the first woman we’ve interrogated, but we certainly won’t treat her as harshly as we would a man. Dragging a chair toward her, I point at the seat. “Sit.”
The poor woman cooperates, biting her lip nervously. Her eyes scan the room and my crew, her eyes growing wider with each face she passes over.
Spinning a chair around in front of her, I straddle the seat. I need to see her face to read her expressions. “Is your name Rowan Emerson?”
She gulps. “Yes.”
Nerves are normal.
“Are you an accountant with Donavan & Walt?”
“Yes.”
All truths thus far. Time to shake things up.
“Do you think my mafioso friend is handsome?”
Piero chokes and tries to cover it up as a cough. My brothers snicker behind me.
Rowan blinks several times, surprised, before sneering. “No! Absolutely not. He’s vile.”
The first lie—displays too much emotion for a simple yes or no question. “Are you sure?”
The young Don seems genuinely curious about me pressing her for the truth. Rowan shifts in her seat, refusing to answer.
