Page 75 of My Sunfall

Fuck. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

As if reading my thoughts, he nods once, face darkening.

“I haven’t been able to locate his supplier,” he goes on. “But I heard you have a very skilled tech team. They might be able to trace the payments back to him.”

I stare at him in silence, filing the information away. I’ll have Matteo verify everything when I get back.

“What was the shipment transporting?”

He shakes his head. “He’s involved in a lot of things, arms, contraband, drugs, whatever pays. If I had to guess I’d say weapons, that’s his most lucrative business.”

“And what about Naples?” I ask, sliding the shipping manifest I found at the docks across the table. I know I’m taking a risk by showing him this, but I decide to trust my instinct.

He takes it and scans the page with a frown. Then he shakes his head. “I’ve never heard him talk about Naples. But then again, he was careful not to talk business when I was around. He’s not that stupid, unfortunately. The only thing I know is that he’s obsessed with your docks. He might be planning something, but that’s all I’ve got.”

He returns the manifest and I put it back into my jacket pocket.

“And since you’re at it,” he goes on, “if you check the tabloids, you’ll see pictures of me in a very undignified state, confirming that I was indeed in Chicago last night.” He smirks, and a flash of steel blazes behind his eyes. I am impressed, he clearly knows what he is doing, maintaining a façade of debauchery while plotting to take down his uncle. He could be dangerous someday. A fierce ally or a worthy opponent, it all depends on how things go from now on.

“Well kiddo,” I drawl, “looks like you’ve made yourself a new ally.”

I extend my hand and he takes it for a firm shake.

“But,” I say in a warning tone, “my boss and our enforcer get to be in the loop.”

He nods. “Didn’t expect less.”

Then he lifts his glass to his lips and drains it before setting it back down and standing up. I tense when his hand goes to his inner suit pocket, but he holds up the other hand to show he is not armed and slowly retrieves a Benjamin that he carelessly tosses on the table.

Then he nods at me once and turns to leave. “Keep the change, gramps,” he says over his shoulder and walks out the door.

After a stunned silence, I throw my head back and laugh out loud. Seems like I’ve grown fond of this cocky bastard.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Lucas

My mind is still stuck on the information Vitale’s nephew gave me.

The city blurs past my windows in streaks of streetlight and shadows, but I barely register any of it. Everything loops in my head like a broken record—the dock, the dead men, the masked shooters, the Chicago Outfit. Something’s off. There’s something we’re missing. Something that keeps nagging at the back of my conscience and won’t let go.

I press harder on the gas. There’s only one thing, or rather, one person who can calm the storm raging inside me. Chiara. My wife.

I should’ve called or texted her. I should’ve done something other than disappear into work again like a fucking idiot. The last days have been strained, I’d been busy with the investigation, leaving early and returning late. But every time I came home to her, my mind settled, business slipping into the background when I gathered her in my arms and inhaled her like a junkie. The only thing I want right now is to get home to see her. To smell her, taste her, bury myself inside her and forget everything else. I can’t comprehend this visceral need to be balls deep inside her, to own her in more than a physical level. All I know is that she is the reason I breathe. The truth slams into me—I can’t live without her. I don’t want to live without her. Fuck.

The Aston roars as I take a turn a little too fast. I force my fingers to unclench from the wheel, but it barely helps. I’m fucking anxious to get home to her. Once I get back, I’ll pull her in my arms and—

Headlights explode in my peripheral vision, blinding me for a fraction.

“What the—”

A massive dark SUV slams into the passenger side. The impact is violent, bone-shaking. Metal screeches, the sound high and deafening. The car spins, and I become weightless. My head whips forward and agonizing pain cracks through my temple.

Adrenaline invades my bloodstream and I reach instinctively for my weapon. But my hand gets crushed between my back and the seat, preventing me from pulling the gun out of my back holster. Right before everything goes black, one last vicious thought registers in my mind.

I should’ve taken the SUV with the concealed weapon in the center console.

My vision blurs and my body becomes weightless. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.