3
Eric
It’s a little after nine when I arrive at D’Agostinos Inc., the headquarters of the Syndicate.
I rush inside and head to the large meeting room where we hold Syndicate meetings. There I find both Aiden and Maksim, his cousin and Sovietnik of our brotherhood, sitting around the Arthurian-style table with the other guys.
Massimo D’Agostino, the Syndicate’s leader is here. He’s at the head of the table. Next to him is Dominic, his brother, and consigliere. Across from them is the cartel king himself, Alejandro. I’m surprised to see him. He’s not part of the Syndicate, so whatever intel Dominic found must involve him for him to be here.
I was told he helped in my rescue from the compound I was being held at in Brazil.
We haven’t spoken much before, just a few words here and there in greeting. Of course, I thanked him for his assistance when we were introduced.
He’s an old family friend of the D’Agostinos, and Massimo has been trying to get him to join the Syndicate since he reformed it six years ago, but Alejandro has always declined.
He looks nothing like he did when I last saw him and nothing like the powerful man he’s supposed to be with his multimillion-dollar gas company and control over the weapon and vehicle trafficking contracts in Brazil.
His salt and pepper beard looks fuller and his hair longer, as if he hasn’t had time for a trim in a while. His unkempt appearance and that coldness in his dark eyes make him look like he’s ready to kill.
“Hey,” I say, acknowledging them all.
“I apologize we couldn’t bring you in earlier,” Aiden remarks. “We still had a lot of things to check out. Getting the girl was a priority.”
“No worries. What’s happening?”
“Sit here,” he replies, pulling out the chair next to him.
When I make my way over and sit, Dominic pulls up a recording on the flat-screen computer that’s hanging on the wall.
Instantly footage of Robert walking into a bedroom comes to life, and my blood boils.
I rivet my gaze to the screen and watch him; part of me stares in disbelief that I’m looking at Robert—alive and well. The other part of me that wants him dead is ready to end him right the fuck now. If I could magically reach into the fibers of space and time with my gun, I would fire one bullet between his eyes. Just one bullet. That is all it would take to annihilate him.
Robert looks the same as he did years ago. The same mid-length, unruly black hair covers his head, and he has the same evil look in his eyes.
Dominic pauses the recording, and I switch my focus to him.
“I’ve searched every corner in Hell for Robert. Who were you tracking when you found this?” I demand.
“This guy.” Dominic takes the recording back by fifteen seconds showing a well-dressed Italian man I’d peg to be in his late forties. He’s walking into the same bedroom as Robert.
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Micah Santa Maria,” Alejandro fills in, speaking with a hint of a South American accent. “It would appear he and Robert are working together. Micah is one of the clan leaders in the Camorra.”
Camorra?
Fuck.Well, that confirms the big connection Robert has and a key reason why I haven’t been able to find him.
“Six months ago, Micah murdered my brother and his wife, leaving behind my newborn niece,” Alejandro explains further. “I’ve been trying to find him ever since. Dominic has been helping me. Our efforts were to no avail until this.”
“Where was this recorded?” I ask.
“Fourteen nights ago in Monaco,” Dominic answers.
“Monaco?” I grit my teeth. Fucking hell. So that’s where the fucker is. All my attempts to find him here would have been fruitless. Robert is on the other side of the fucking world.
“That’s an apartment in Monaco Cliff that belongs to Summer Reeves,” Dominic says, and the pieces of the puzzle start fitting together. “My facial recognition bots found the recording early last night.”