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Stefano leaned against the porch, smoking a cigarette. He stubbed it into an ashtray and followed us into the house.
“Who is it?” I asked, coming into the room.
Orlando sat at one desk and Emilio at another. A bank of computer monitors had images frozen on the screen. Another monitor was flipping through images in a virtual environment.
“I have the package running.” Emilio took a breath. “Basically, I took the image of Alex Ferraro and asked the system to show me repeat associations, ran searches on those connections, marking any hit that included the characteristics we know about the woman called Tinker, and I also did a search on any association between Luca and Alex.”
“Did you find her?”
Emilio pulled up a grainy image. With a few keystrokes the image became clearer. The petite woman had long blonde hair. A large man stood protectively, next to her, erect but relaxed. His arms were at his sides, hands crossed in front of his groin. Professional muscle. Dark glasses shielded his eyes.
“I don’t have a definite match on her bodyguard, but eighty percent chance his name is Keith Hudson. Former Navy Seal in the American military. I have confirmation of the two of them going back more than a decade.”
“Is that the woman?” I’d only spent a few minutes with her over a couple days. I couldn’t be sure. “Have you found anything connecting her to Luca?”
Emilio leaned back in his chair. His gaze connected with mine, then turned to Stefano.
Orlando moved out of the chair for me to sit next to Emilio.
“You need to sit down, Marco.”
I ignored the chair. “Who the fuck is she?”
“Her name isn’t Mia Toliver,” Stefano said. “She goes by Tinker in the club, and she’s the last person to see Luca alive. And she’s definitely an enemy of the Bruno family.”
My hands balled into fists. “Who. Is. She?”
“Mia Thomas.”
A hot ball of rage exploded in my gut. “Fuck. Fuck!” I yelled. “Was Luca retaliation?”
Thomas. I hadn’t heard the name in five years. Not since they were executed along with my uncle Sammy. Husband and wife diamond dealers, smugglers, American, and dead because my father refused to pay the ransom. “How is she related?”
“The daughter,” Emilio said. “The son is dead as well. He buckled under the pressure of the business. She’s worth billions. That’s not all. For years, there was no activity on her. In the last few weeks, she started making connections, all former military. Heavy guns.”
One by one, the images on the monitor became clearer. I stood next to Emilio and leaned my hands on the table. “Is she working with the Irish?”
“If there is a connection,” Emilio said. “I’ll find it.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. My enemy wasn’t in Italy, wasn’t Adami, and if the Irish were involved, Mia Thomas had brought them into the fight.
“Find her.”
Stefano stepped away from the wall. “Marco, you need to hear the rest. Mia isn’t working alone. She knows a fucking lot more about us than we do about her.”
Another image materialized on the computer screen.
Recognition slammed painfully into my chest. I dropped into the chair. My throat tightened.Fucking breathe. I tried to inhale.No. Fuck no.
Reality warred with perception. Impossible. A ghost in the system. “When was the picture taken?” This couldn’t be a recent picture. There was no other explanation. The picture had to be months old. “When?!”
“Last week.” Emilio’s voice was barely a whisper.
A knife of betrayal twisted in my gut. There was no doubt the whiskey-colored eyes were those of my brother. Dark hair, tall, Italian, mafia. Like looking in the fucking mirror. Luca was alive.
I roared, surging to my feet and tipping over the chair. “Where the fuck is he? Where is the woman? What the fuck is he doing with Mia Thomas?”
In one of the pictures, he had his arm around her. The situation didn’t make sense. Why would Luca let me believe he was dead? No. He wouldn’t traumatize Savio.
