One last scream, and he shoots her in her head. As she crumples to the ground, I wonder what the hell I’m watching. No fucking way is that Summer Reeves, the woman at my apartment. Unless she’s some kind of mutant with a head made of steel like the fucking Terminator, she wouldn’t have survived a bullet to the head.
I return my focus to the recording when Micah walks up to Robert and strikes him across his face with the back of his gun.
“You better hope she didn’t talk to anyone and ruin our plans. If she did, you’re dead,” Micah snarls, and my interest piques even more than it already has. “We can’t let them find out something’s wrong.”
“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Robert promises.
“Sort her out.”
Dominic ends the footage, and Alejandro focuses on me again.
“That’s not Summer Reeves,” I say.
“No, it’s not. It’s her twin sister, Scarlett,” he explains, clearing up my confusion. “But they think they killed Summer. From this, it’s clear she saw Robert do something that could ruin Micah’s plans. Whatever the fuck it is, it’s something huge enough for Micah to accompany Robert personally to make sure he killed her. A man like that doesn’t just do house calls or clean up a mere loose end. Her death was important to both of them. Now that you have her, she could give us information on how to find them. That’s going to be a fuck of a lot quicker than going to Monaco and searching the place. Or worst-case scenario, when they discover they killed the wrong woman, they’ll come here looking for the right one.”
“Either way, we get to them,” I fill in, seeing where he’s going.
“Yes.”
He said ‘when.’ He’s right to assume it’s when and not if because if we found out, they will too, at some point. We’re just several steps ahead of the game. I’m definitely on board. I’ll get whatever intel Summer has on them, and I have no problem in using Summer as bait to lure them here. This is the fucking door of opportunity I needed to open to give me answers and by God, I am seizing it.
“How did you find her?” I direct the question at Dominic.
“After I watched the video, I checked her out. I found details of her father, and my bots picked her up outside a convenience store in San Bernardino. When we contacted her father, he gave us the address Aiden sent you to.”
“I want you to focus on this, Eric,” Massimo cuts in. As a Syndicate leader, any job he gives me takes precedent over my Bratva duties. “Alejandro has to go back and forth to Brazil, and I need Aiden and Dominic investigating Micah’s plans with the Camorra a little deeper. It would be good if you could deal with this.”
“I can. I’ll take care of the girl and work on tracking the code.”
“Good. The other problem is her father. When the Monaco police notified him of Summer’s death, he knew straightaway it was Scarlett who was killed. He’s been trying to get the police over here involved. Since that’s a problem for us, I intercepted his requests and spoke to him. I need you to see her father before you do anything else and let him know the situation is in hand.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Great. Let him know we’ll return his daughter once our business with her is over, and make sure you let him know what will happen if he doesn’t comply.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” He knows I will; I just want to assure him for the sake of the others. I might be silent and observant most of the time, but that’s because I’m always planning. And always plotting death.
I’m no more ruthless than he is.
Sometimes I think I might be worse.
I’ve learned to control my emotions. That makes me more dangerous.
People can’t figure me out.
So, they have no idea when I’m going to snap.
* * *
John Reeves lives in a contemporary two-story home in Santa Monica.
Aside from the paleness in John’s skin when he opens the door and sees me, I take in the wooden cane he’s resting on and his haggard appearance.
“Are you Eric?” he asks, nervously looking me over. “They told me you were on your way.”
“I am.”
“Did you really find Summer?”