Page 23 of Reckless Woman

“Not when I have D’Angelo’s daughter waiting for me,” he counters slyly.

“He wanted you to have this.” The detective hands him a second red file. “The Italians are planning a second hit on you. No time yet. No place. But it’s coming.”

Rick looks unimpressed. “The Italians wouldn’t be stupid enough to strike twice in the same week. I’ve killed twenty today alone in reprisal for their attempt last night. They’ve had their fun. As long as Don Ricci learns to stick behind the Bowery and Canal Street, I see no reason to start a turf war.”

“You’re not listening to me, Sanders,” says Roman patiently. “They have someone else on the inside. I suggest you switch up your nighttime habits again. Keep them guessing. Don’t visit the same club twice in a row—”

“Yadda, yadda, are we done yet?” Rick tosses the file onto the front dash, unread, and flicks his cigarette ash out of the window.

“There’s something else, but Dante will fill you in.”

“I can’t wait.”

The car slows to a crawl. We’re outside the Barfly again. Danny exits first, and then Rick. He turns back to rap on the window.

“You coming in?” he asks when I open the door a crack.

I shake my head. “I left Anna in Miami. I need to get back.”

“All alone in Little Cuba?” he taunts. “How careless. Give her a kiss from me.”

With that, he’s slamming the door in my face before I make good on my threats.

Roman tuts in frustration. “If that man wasn’t so good at making money…”

“Dante trusts him. He’s not going anywhere.”

There’s a pause. “I heard what happened in Colombia.”

Roman sounds concerned.

Roman never sounds concerned.

“Dante’s blinkered by the curiosity of his own family bloodline. It won’t last. Tell me everything about Vindicta.”

“They have a strong fleet, and they own at least ten percent of the warehouses and container docks along the East Coast.”

“Mexican?”

“No.”

“Russian?”

“Quite possibly.”

“What’s this got to do with Viviana?”

“You said she had a mystery contact in shipping. I’d planned to start with the big players and work down. Until I found this.” He takes the file from me and flicks through the pages to the last one. “This is a recent export agreement with Vindicta for Gomez’s business. For years, he exported coke into the US disguised as cocoa beans with a rival company—Aba Shipping. Or they did until your girlfriend blew the back of his head off, and Viviana did the equivalent with a knife and his only son.”

“Fiancée,” I murmur without thinking. “Anna and I are getting married.”

“Congratulations,” he says, with a note of sincerity in his voice. He knows, first-hand, what she went through because his twin sister, Natasha, suffered the same fate. She never came out alive, though. She never had a man to fix her, and then fuck it all up again.

Since Natasha’s death, Roman’s family have made it their mission to destroy human trafficking. Since his father’s murder, Roman has thrown his rage, his grief and everything else at it.

“So let me get this straight: Gomez swapped Aba Shipping for Vindicta to smuggle their coke into the US?”

“Yes, three years ago, but it was a bogus deal.”