Page 93 of Illyria
“Any word from the families?”
“No,” I growled. “You?”
“Nothing.”
“You got your family locked down?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Tessa ain’t fucking happy, but I don’t give a fuck. Got the board members quarantined to the clubhouse.”
“Malice?”
“Still hasn’t reported in,” Montana barely said. “He won’t either until he’s found her.”
I knew he was worried about his enforcer, but the man could take care of himself. I’d seen him in action. If he went down, he wouldn’t be going alone. “Have you called and told Giovanni yet?”
“No.”
An hour ago, Happy returned to the clubhouse, a shell of a man. No longer his namesake, he informed us he had found Mrs. Rushton. Someone shot and killed her while she was walking home from the grocery store in a drive-by shooting. We all knew who it was.
Tonight, blood ran in the streets of the city, I claimed, and I feared this was only the beginning. Salvatore Valentinetti was officially missing. No one knew where he was. When I sent my men to find him, they came back empty-handed, telling me someone had broken into his penthouse. The place was a mess, and he was nowhere to be found.
We all knew who it was.
He told me himself.
A knock at the door had both of us turning as Vladmir and Mercy walked in. They both looked like shit. Both haggard and exhausted. Mercy slowly shook his head as Vladmir walked over to me and handed me a piece of cloth.
Flipping it over, I took a deep breath.
“He wasn’t there, boss. We scoured the area. That’s all we found.”
Nodding, both men quickly left as I placed the Golden Skull patch on the table between me and Montana. Sitting back in my chair, neither of us could take our eyes off the patch.
One more sin I was going to have to atone for.
My woman would never forgive me.
“He could still be alive. You know that Maxim.”
I nodded. “Or he’s dead. Either way, our options are running out fast.”
“I can call the Diamondbacks. Kansas will help.”
“You really want to put your baby brother in his line of sight? What about Kali and the kids?”
“No,” he moaned. “I don’t.”
“Then you know what we have to do.”
“He’s been in seclusion for months, Maxim. Refuses to see anyone. We don’t even know if he’s sane.”
“Maybe that’s what we need. Someone who doesn’t give a fuck anymore.”
“Oh, I can guarantee he doesn’t have any fucks to give. The man lost everything, and I mean everything. He’s barely holding onto his sanity by a thread. We bring him back to life and all hell is going to break loose.”
Getting to my feet, I buttoned my suit jacket. “Good. Maybe that’s what we need. Hell on earth just might save us all. Grab his bag. He’s going to need his shit.”
Montana cursed, “Fuck.”