Page 40 of Deceitful Oath
That was a loaded boat, millions of dollars' worth of product gone.
“I don’t think it would be wise to get into an altercation if we’re not sure it’s his guys.”
“I agree, but I’m not going to sit by while Mancini slowly dismantles everything my father worked to build.”
“Maybe you can…” he hesitates. I sense where he’s going with this and fear wraps itself around my core. “I mean, you’ve got his secret weapon at your disposal.”
“The waitress doesn’t know shit,” I snap. He’s silent, probably judging me.
“Well,” he slowly says, “she might be all we have.”
I grunt my acknowledgment and end the call, stabbing my phone screen just a little too hard with my finger. I want to throw it actually, right out the window of my office.
The only reason I’m sitting here right now, drinking bourbon in the morning, is because I needed a break from Lux.
Lux and her shiny, cinnamon-smelling hair.
Lux and her addictive sunshine smile.
Lux and the way she makes me feel naked, even when I’m fully clothed.
I growl and launch my now empty glass against the opposite wall, determined to destroy something. Displeasure hums in my veins, radiating through my entire body. I don’t like that we have so little information.
In fact, I feel like I’m in the dark about a lot things happening around me right now. No one seems to have definite answers when it comes to my father’s death or the missing boat. One of my guys was killed in his apartment last night, and no one knows who did it.
What the fuck is going on?
I grab my phone and call Enzo. He answers mid-sentence.
“...but nothing really concrete yet.”
“You better find something concrete because I’m about to pull up to Mancini’s house swinging.”
“Boss,” he chuckles, “relax, will you? I’m not a damn magician. It takes more than five minutes to hack into someone’s personal devices.”
“Enzo,” I growl, ready to rip his head off, “you know why you live in such a nice fucking brownstone and drive a Porsche?”
“I know, I know,” he groans. I hear his fingers flying across a keyboard in the background.Good, move them or lose them.
These young guys have no sense of urgency. I only keep Enzo on the payroll because he’s the best tech guy in the business, but even I have my limits when I’m pissed off.
“Wait,” he says, and I hold my breath. Keys click furiously in the background. “I’m in.”
“Send me everything,” I tell him, finally breathing out. “Contact lists, messages, emails, whatever you can get your hands on…you’re getting a Christmas bonus.”
He snorts with laughter as my laptop starts pinging with incoming files. “I want a Lambo.”
“Shut up, Enzo,” I warn, hanging up the call. I’m practically salivating at all the information downloading on my screen. Before I dive into the nitty-gritty, there’s something I need to do.
I take a deep breath, knowing that what I find might change everything. I slowly pull up the search field and type in Lux Davis. My finger hovers over the search key as my heart picks up speed.
If I find something incriminating, I can finally end this game.
I press the button. My eyes widen as a list of messages and call logs flood my screen. I pore over the call logs—the call from Friday night, one from a few weeks ago, but nothing that suggests she was in constant contact with Mancini.
I flex my fingers and pull up the messages.
Hi Mr. Mancini, just wondering if we’re getting our tip-out on Saturday?