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My mouth drops open at his brutal crudeness. Flames erupt over my cheeks.
Having dealt that low blow, he turns and strolls away, his snicker lingering in my ears as he rounds the corner of the house.
How can he be so crass? Isn’t he ashamed of himself? Then again, just because he’s fighting on the right side of the law doesn’t mean his methods are clean. He proved that in Marseille. He’s nothing if not as determined as Angelo. He’ll deploy any weapon and any means to achieve his goal, even if he has to use innocent people. He’s not the savior he pretends to be. I’m not that stupid. To him, I’m nothing but collateral damage.
Seething with anger, I go inside. Embarrassment burns hot under my skin, but I’m shivering like a cold person.
I play our meeting over in my head, thinking what I could’ve said or done better. As I dissect our conversation, another disturbing thought enters my mind.
If I didn’t send that message to Lieutenant Lavigne, who did?
ChapterEighteen
Angelo
“It’s best we melt the gold and sell it with the gemstones on the black market,” my broker says. “That way, there’s no question about how the jewelry was acquired.”
“You’ve got the original warranties, don’t you?”
We found the paperwork at the bottom of the crate. As it turned out, the old man had bought all that bling.
“Without receipts, you can’t prove it hadn’t been stolen,” he says.
“The stores should have a record of the sales.”
“Not if he paid cash. Most of those stores are pawn shops. The last thing you want is to sell a ring that’s been reported stolen. You don’t want that kind of trail leading to you.”
He’s right, but it’s a lot of gold to smelt. Selling twenty-four-carat gold bars and bags full of cut diamonds, emeralds, and rubies without attracting attention will be tricky. I’ll have to split the yield and send different buyers across the globe a few kilos each. It’s delicate work that requires calling in a few favors, which will result in me owing some favors too.
Suppressing a sigh, I say, “Do it.”
Just as I end the call, one of my men enters with the drone recording. My body tenses. This is it, the point that will make or break me. Whatever is on that video will decide how my future with Sabella plays out. For a fleeting moment, I consider not taking it, but I’ve been putting off facing the truth for too long.
“That it?” I ask, tidying a stack of papers.
He jumps at attention. “Yes, sir.”
I nod at my desk. “Leave it.”
He places it carefully on a vacant spot.
I lift my gaze to his. “Did you detain him?”
“Yes, sir. We pulled him off just before the bridge.”
“Out of sight from the house?”
“Yes, sir. We chose a distance that’s not visible from the upstairs windows.”
I nod. “Where is he?”
“In the cellar, like you instructed, sir.”
“Thanks,” I say, turning my attention back to the contract in my hand.
Once he’s gone, I drop the papers and stare at the USB key on the corner of my desk. I don’t touch it. I reach for the bottle of Scotch instead. I pour four fingers and take my time to sip it, appreciating the notes of dried fruit, vanilla, and spices on my tongue. I’m not only stalling but also fortifying myself for what awaits.
When the glass is near-empty, I snatch up the key and plug it into my laptop. The drone is equipped with powerful video and audio recording technology. I anticipated that Sabella and Lavigne would go outside. The drone was ready. The minute the men informed me that Lavigne had entered my property, I’d instructed the pilot to launch the ultra-silent, state-of-the-art piece of equipment that’s used in military combat.
