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I dip my chin with respect. “Yes. I will have Jane arrange a meeting with Diaz to tell him our family’s presence in Harlem ends today.” I rise from my chair. Jane and Joseph are quick to follow suit while the rest of the table remains sitting. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me. I have work to do.”
In an uncharacteristic move, I leave the meeting without waiting for my grandfather’s dismissal. There was a time when I never would’ve been so disrespectful, but it’s about time I started showing my grandfather that I’m a leader in this family. Whether or not he wants to accept it.
I am halfway down the wide hallway leading to my office when I hear Joseph call after me. “Boss.”
“Not now, Joseph.” I need a moment to reign in my lingering frustration. I can’t afford to act impulsively.
“But boss,” Joseph says with urgency, “Gasso is on the line.”
I stop and turn to see him jogging up to me, Jane’s cell phone extended in his hand. I wonder where my cousin is, but then I hear her feminine voice elevate as she argues with my grandfather back in the meeting room.
I’m too riled up from the meeting with my grandfather to register how unusual it is for the Police Commissioner to be calling, let alone calling my second.
I bring the phone to my ear just as Gasso barks, “MacKenzie?”
“What is it, Gasso?”
“There’s been an incident at Isaiah Morgan’s gallery.”
My shroud of anger disappears in a blink. It’s replaced with trepidation. “What do you mean ‘incident’?” I pull out my phone and look at the screen for a message from Nolan or Liam. There’s nothing.
“One of the patrol cars you requested was driving by your fiancée’s work when they noticed neither of her bodyguards were posted at the entrance. He decided to investigate.”
Dread threatens to buckle my knees, but I lock them and grit my teeth. “I would appreciate it if you got to the point, Gasso.”
All too aware of where I am, I resume my walk to my office, waving for Joseph to follow.
A sigh crackles through the earpiece. “My man went into the gallery, and there was no one there.”
My grip on the phone tightens. I wait for Joseph to step inside my office before closing the door behind him and demanding into the phone, “What the fuck do you mean? Was the gallery locked and closed? Or open and empty?”
In my gut, I already know the answer before he replies, “Open and empty.”
Fuck.
I tell Joseph, “Liam and Nolan are missing. Send men to the gallery to investigate. Now.”
My third immediately gets his phone and dials a number, moving to the far corner of the office to give the order.
Gasso clears his throat. “That isn’t wise, MacKenzie. I have officers still on the scene.”
Like I give a damn.
“What did they find?”
“The security footage was tampered with, but there were signs of a struggle in the back office.”
“Enough to warrant an investigation by police?” Worry for my fiancée grows. I knew I shouldn’t have let her return to work. I should’ve listened to my gut rather than try to keep her happy.
“Yes.”
I growl. The police won’t allow my men to investigate the property while they’re there. They can’t afford to be seen openly working with one of the city’s crime families.
“What about Morgan? Any word from him?” My men have informed me the gallery owner often leaves Catarina to run the gallery on her own. There’s a chance he wasn’t present during whatever happened, but my instinct says otherwise.
“We haven’t been able to reach him.”
“I’ll send men to search for him,” I tell the commissioner. “After we’re through with him, I’ll send him to the nearest station for your officers to question.”
