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“The fucker has to know more than that.” Enzo shakes his head.
“Well, from what we can gather, it seems like he was telling the truth.” Marco waves a stack of papers at us. “And he was pretty forthcoming with the information.”
“He wouldn’t want to be anything else,” Rocco scoffs, cracking his knuckles.
“It’s not like we’re intimidating,” I agree as Dante chuckles.
He and Dante left the warehouse, leaving the guys tied up until we’ve decided what to do with them. I suggested we let at least two of them go and have them followed, if they’re dumb enough to lead us somewhere we aren’t supposed to know about. So be it.
“He sang like a fucking canary,” I go on. “Beats having to point a gun at the man’s head, right, Angelo?”
Angelo rolls his eyes.
“He did say the Whisky Run recently changed hands,” Marco interjects, deep in thought.
“He also knew Uncle Mario,” I add. “Wonder why we’ve never heard of his name before.”
“I never dealt with Roberto’s will or his funeral,” Angelo says. “Mario did all of that. I suppose I should have picked up the name sooner, but it doesn’t change the fact that Il Diavolo’s identity has been kept secret as a matter of urgency.”
Marco raises one eyebrow.
“Let’s see what this uncovers. Vaughn will work with Sloane around the clock to get to the bottom of this, see what they can uncover as they delve deeper.” Angelo strokes his chin. He knows as well as the rest of us that this could be a long, dark rabbit hole. But we have no choice.
“How did Sage take the news she’d have a bodyguard until this mess is sorted out?” Dante asks me on the side, quietly.
“Fucking fantastic,” I muse sarcastically. “Like she has a choice anyway.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” He shrugs.
Couldn’t fucking agree more. I meant what I said; this is me keeping her safe. If she doesn’t like it, too bad.
“Brings me to the next thing, the Medici women, and Sage.” Angelo looks at me briefly, “Apparently, they are meeting up on Saturday to have lunch at Flutes in the casino.”
I smirk, so he does know about it. Of course. As if we don’t all know they’re meeting up to have a bitch about around the clock security, and God knows what else they talk about.
We have bigger fish to fry than worrying about what they’re discussing.
“What’s next?” Enzo asks.
“We wait for Vaughn and Sloane’s findings. Trouble is, like most corporations, everything is buried, but right now, it’s the only lead we have. The employees don’t know shit, even the fucking manager doesn’t know who employs him. The associates, though, I think we can squeeze some more out of them,” Angelo says.
“So, you didn’t get trigger happy downtown?” Enzo muses toward his best friend.
We all saw that wild look in Angelo’s eyes yesterday. He was taking no prisoners.
Lucky for Orlando, Angelo had calmed down some by the time we got to his office.
“No need to, the guy was compliant.” The glint in Angelo’s eyes is amusing. “If only everyone we interrogate could be that forthcoming.”
“It would save quite a lot of trouble, and save all the blood spattering all over your fucking designer suit,” I quip.
“True. I’ll send the fucker my dry-cleaning bill after this shit is done.”
We all laugh. Because we know it’s all fucking true.
Angelo may be composed now, but he’s like a wildcat, and he’s been let loose.
When the meeting is over, Angelo pulls me back by the shoulder, while everyone disperses.
