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“Let a fellow dream. So, can I call the airstrip and tell them to fuel up the jet?”
“Yes.”
Because I’m ready to go home, too.
Ten hours later, the jet touches down in Las Vegas. Hector’s wife is waiting for us on the airstrip and jumps into his arms when he steps out. I have to sidestep them just to get to my waiting SUV. Knowing them, they won’t even make it to their vehicle before he’s fucking her.
Ah, young love.
Inside the SUV, I catch up on emails that piled up while I was out of the country. While I love going to Sicily, it always reminds me of a life that I no longer have. A life that I rarely allow myself to think about. What good does it do to wonder what could have been? I made my choice and now I must live with it. My grip tightens on my phone. It doesn’t do any good to dwell on shit that can’t be changed. As my dear grandmother used to say,tale padre, tale figlio. I was destined to make the same mistakes my father did. The only difference between us is that I didn’t get myself killed. Fuck. I need a drink. Thinking of Sicily, my dear grandmother, and now my fucking father? What’s next— dreaming of my mother, god rest her soul?
I huff out a laugh as the SUV arrives at the Grand Towers. When I moved to Vegas years ago, I was lucky enough to get in on investing in the development. The best part of the deal was that I got a penthouse suite. While most units in the building only have a few bedrooms, mine has six as well as five bathrooms, a private gym, a study, a library that I don’t use enough, and a view of the Strip that is worth millions on its own. There’s even a business center in the building where I can conduct meetings when I don’t feel like going in to the office. Of course, that’s only when I’m dealing with the legal side of things.
The thought has me smiling as I exit the SUV, making my way inside the lobby. In the elevator, I go through a mental list of things I need to do before I go into the office. Shower. Send my bloodied clothes off to the cleaners. Contact the Elite Members. I scrub my hand over my face. I’d rather hop on another flight and be out of the country for a month than to have to call those fuckers. Talking to them reminds me of how I felt trying to talk to my father—it’s unpleasant and often leads nowhere. But it’s my job to report on what I found in Sicily, so that’s what I’ll do.
And then I’m telling them I’m going on hiatus.
My leather boots make no sound on the hardwood floors as I enter my penthouse. My live-in maid and chef are both off, since I wasn’t supposed to return until tomorrow, so I’m on my own. I welcome the peace. Sometimes it feels I never have a moment to myself.
After showering and dressing, I decide to call the Elite Members now instead of later. Blanc, the head Elite Member, answers on the first ring.
“Moretti. This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow.”
“Job finished early. Are the others on the call?”
There’s a rustling, and Blanc curses under his breath. A soft feminine voice that’s most definitely not his wife speaks in the background, trying to help him. I file that bit of information away. Never know when it might come in handy.
He snaps, “I got it!”
I bite back a grin. Blanc is older than shit, so it’s no wonder he can’t figure out how to add other callers to the call. A moment later, the other four Elite Members are on the line.
“Moretti has news,” Blanc says.
“The accountant is dead. He gave me a name and the account where the money is. I’ve already had my people move it back to the Brotherhood’s account in Switzerland.” I add, “I assume our next move is to go after him.”
Him being the man who dared to steal from us.
“No,” Blanc says. “Going after him will bring too much attention to the Brotherhood.”
Zhang, the second in command, says, “I disagree. Even the Crown can’t protect him. Not from this.”
Smith, Jones, and DeLeon are silent as Zhang and Blanc go back and forth. A dull ache throbs behind my eyes. Fucking hell. I need a drink. Once one is in hand, I take a long sip of the whisky, letting it burn a trail down my throat.
Finally, Zhang concedes. “We’ll let this go. For now. But if he does it again, he’ll pay with his life.”
“Agreed,” DeLeon says. He then clears his throat. Twice. “Gentlemen, while we have Moretti on the line, I’d like to bring up a different…issue.”
My jaw tics. If this fool tells us he’s gotten involved in another situation with an underaged child, I’m going to kill him myself. Slowly and painfully.
Blanc sighs. “What have you done now, DeLeon?”
Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s tired of DeLeon’s shit.
“Nothing. Well, that I know of. I, uh, received a letter in the post today. I thought little of it until I opened it. It seemed very normal, you see. I wouldn’t have opened it if I had known what was inside.”
Smith exhales loudly. “For the love of god man, spit it out. Some of us had to get up in the middle of the night for this call and I don’t want to wait for you to yammer on while trying to get to the point!”
I grin. Smith just moved up a few slots on my list.
