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“Can everyone sit? You’re making me nervous,” she says as I chuckle.
Angelo settles at the head, then Rocco and the rest follow suit.
“That’s better,” she says. “So, Vaughn and I, we’ve managed to acquire footage from the shipment’s cargo hold. Just before the raid, you’ll see strange activity when this van pulls up to the dock. Then we see some large boxes being removed from a compartment within the shipping container, and the boxes are moved into the van.”
We all stare at her in unison.
It can’t be as simple as that. Fuck me dead.
“Vaughn, by some kind of miracle, managed to get a good facial shot of one of the men hauling the goods from when he first drives up to the security checkpoint. He enters the code then proceeds down to the dock. He ran his face through the facial recognition database and got a hit. We’ve got a location for him.”
I feel my fist clench against my thigh. It’s a fucking hard limit hearing this. These were the assholes who were only too happy to ship both Mia and Katiya off to the Middle East, along with a whole container full of women, some not even older than our teenage cousin, Bria. It’s a sickening thought.
“How the fuck did these assholes get away in the first place?” Angelo interjects. “Why didn’t Rombaldi’s men keep watch on the security surveillance?”
“Who knows,” Enzo replies. “Maybe they tampered with the footage so they didn’t see it. Seems like the only likely outcome.”
“Agreed,” Marco says, fired up. This affects him just as much, if not more, than the rest of us.
“This is a pretty big deal to go unnoticed,” Fynn adds. “Had to have been an inside job from the get-go. They knew what they were doing.”
“Correct on all fronts,” Sloane says with a small smile. “You boys have been doing your homework.”
“Do we get an apple from the teacher?” Fynn mocks.
Rocco flips him the bird.
I slap Fynn upside the head. “We’re the ones supposed to give the teacher an apple, dipshit.”
Angelo is still staring at Sloane. “Out with it,” he prompts. “I know you have something to say.”
She glances at him, then swallows hard, glancing at Rocco as he nods once.
“Fynn was correct,” she begins. “It was an inside job, an associate of the Colombians.”
“Never start a sentence with Fynn was correct. It’ll go to his head,” I mutter, attempting to keep light of it.
Sloane smiles, giving me a grateful look. “They betrayed the Colombians and blamed you guys, in a nutshell.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Angelo runs a hand through his hair.
“They wanted that footage to go missing,” she goes on. “For their sake, it would be obvious that you took the shipment along with the cargo hold of humans. It makes sense to blame you. It puts to bed all those rumors about the feds being corrupt as hell, at least in my mind anyway.”
“Why, they’re more corrupt than politicians,” Enzo adds. “If they work for us, anyway.”
Angelo snickers, but Marco looks lost in thought.
Angelo can deal with it, Marco too, but it affects him on a much deeper level.
This is a hard limit for him.
“Great, so we ram that down the Colombians’ throats before we rip their vocal cords out,” Marco says, like it’s that straightforward.
“Having this kind of evidence is key,” I interject. “Despite how we feel about the Colombians. They’re not warring with us because it’s ‘their turn,’ they genuinely think we have the fucking drugs.”
“No shit,” Fynn mutters, still pissed I took a swipe at him.
“Doesn’t excuse a car bombing,” Angelo growls. “I have no mercy for that kind of vigilante act in my city against me or anyone in my family, including those I employ. I don’t fucking care if they got the wrong family or are too fucking lazy to get a better grip on their security. They are all going to pay for that mistake. Imagine Ma burying all four of us and Rocco and Darko…” His fingers twitch like he’s dying to use that favorite blade of his...None of those are reasonable indications that Angelo will be merciful. He won’t be.
