Page 9 of Maximum Bet

Santos reaches into his pocket and retrieves a pack of cigarettes. He holds them out, asking for my permission. I shrug. I can deal with some secondhand smoke if it gets us answers.

“I have a theory,” Leo says. “I think Kozlova and Perez are right under our noses. They’re not far south, but they’re not inside the States. A territory in the Caribbean, perhaps.”

Santos blows a line of smoke into the air above us. “I can’t tell you more, my friend.”

“One more question.” Leo scribbles on his notepad. “Are they shipping from where they’re hiding?”

Santos laughs. “That would be stupid of them, now wouldn’t it?”

Leo gives me a grin. We’ve got what we need.

“A final thought,” I say, turning to Santos. “I want to make sure we remain on the same page regarding human trafficking.”

“I said so earlier,” Santos snaps, cigarette ash falling to the floor.

I hold back my disgust. “It bears repeating. It’s an offense the Romano-Tariello organization won’t overlook.”

He inhales, then exhales slowly. “Dominic, don’t insult me. I have a code of morals.”

Nico grunts.

Satisfied for now, I drop the subject and offer a comped dinner at Mare Di Sicilia, my upscale Italian steakhouse, for Santos and his wife. He shakes my hand, wishes us well, and takes his cigarette and enforcer downstairs to waste more money in my casino.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Nico turns to me with a scowl. “Why are we ignoring his drug trade? Our family stopped dealing in substances.”

“Nico.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “It’s not affecting my city, and I can’t cut ties with Santos right now. He has information that I need.”

“Well, it’s affecting Chicago,” Nico grumbles, running a hand through his hair.

Leo stands and rolls his neck side to side. “Nico, we have video of the murder in Miami. It’s all yours; just let us get to Kozlova and Perez, then you can go after Santos. We won’t stop you.”

“You won’t help me.”

I rest my head on the top of my chair as I stare at the ceiling. My cousin is acting like a spoiled brat. His inexperience is showing. “You’ve got to learn patience. I’ll help you when the time is right. We’re not there yet.”

“Nico,” my father chimes in. “Learn to lead with a steady mind. Frustration and impulsivity will be your downfall.”

Nico’s eyes slip closed as he takes a deep breath. “I know. But I can’t keep watching people die on the streets of my city because of assholes like Santos.”

“Yeah, but without Kozlova and Perez, assholes like Santos don’t have product to run,” I point out.

Nico’s brows furrow as he considers my words.

Leo drops his notepad on my desk. “I’m going to start looking into Caribbean locations. The Bahamas, Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico. I have a hunch that Kozlova and Perez have connections somewhere close.”

“Corrupt governments with US ties,” I say.

“Exactly.”

Brilliantly stupid. Exactly what I expect from Anatoliy Kozlova.

Chapter 5

Cassandra

Ipull a makeup wipe from its package and lean toward the mirror on my vanity while a flutter of dancers undresses around me. My friend, and the girl who originally got me the role in Il Palazzo’s headlining show, Whitney, slips a halter top on over her newly dyed and straightened black hair. She’s in her vixen era. That’s what she told me anyway.

Caked foundation dirties the wipe as I rub it across my forehead. I grimace at the thought of what years of stage makeup will do to my skin. I’m blessed not to get breakouts, but what damage will I have at fifty with all these chemicals seeping into my pores?