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Vito nodded and adjusted the volume.
“You were right, Mr. Sinclair,” an unfamiliar British voice said, coming through the speaker clearly.
“Bloody hell,” Sinclair sighed. That was Heidi’s curse; it was just fucked up to hear it coming from this man even if it wasn’t exactly uncommon.
“The Luciano family seemed to have scooped her up, sir.”
My spine stiffened, and my adrenaline amped up another three notches. It seemed Sinclair had been keeping a close eye on Heidi.
“But it’s strange,” the unfamiliar voice continued.
“How so, James?” Sinclair asked.
“You saw her at the cemetery, sir; she didn’t look injured or scared. She hasn’t left their estate for the past four days, but I have a feeling that has something to do with the boy. Nothing about this feels like they’re holding her against her will.”
If you’d been here two weeks ago, you might be singing a different tune.
Sinclair sighed. “So, they’re trying to use the same approach Bianchi used.”
“I think so, sir. The eldest Luciano son was with her every night before the move to their estate.”
All eyes stayed fixed on the blank screen, but I could feel the fucking smiles on their faces.
Stronzi.
“So,” Sinclair continued, “they know what they found at the Regalton Arms wasn’t all William had in his possession, and they’re trying to get the rest out of her.” Sinclair sighed again. From the frequent sound, I got the feeling there was a lot of weight on this man’s shoulders.
The unfamiliar voice said something, but it was too quiet for the mic to pick up.
“We’re going to have to put an end to this, James. The less digging they do, the better.”
“How would you like me to proceed, sir?”
I sat up straighter, silently begging Sinclair to say the words, to send this asshole after a Luciano. The second he did, this fucker was all mine.
“Perhaps it’s time to stop playing games, James.”
“Do you want me to find a way to retrieve the girl, sir?”
Silence.
Say yes.My hands bunched into fists. If he went after Heidi, he was just as dead as if he’d threatened my family.Say it, goddamn it.
“No, not yet,” Sinclair replied.
Damn it.
“Let’s find out all we can about the Lucianos first, shall we? They’ve been useful so far.”
“Of course, sir.”
Sinclair hung up a few seconds later.
“I want to know everywhere they’re poking around for information,” my father told Vito the second the call disconnected. “Limit the flow as much as you can.”
Vito got up and headed for the door. “I’m on it, boss.”
“I could talk to Hack,” Greta offered. Hack was the Old Dogs’ resident tech guy. He knew just about everything there was to know about computers and networks and all that shit. “He could probably lock a lot of shit down and let you know if anyone’s trying to get in,” she continued.
