only brought me a few tidbits about large drug deals with opium dealers out of Afghanistan. Whoever this new guy is, he’s connected. And he isn’t fucking around. He took out two of our operations in Turkey, killed our workers and took everything down to the last poppy.”
“I need a name. And then I need to know where he is.”
“I’m working on it.” He sits heavily, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to his efforts on this matter.
“No one is ever new, Santino. Not in this country. Our blood has watered the olive trees here for centuries. Someone knows who he is. Knows his family.”
He sits for a while, both of us in silence as I continue double-checking our shipment logs against our accounts. I pay plenty of accountants to do this for me, but sometimes there’s a thief in the larder, and I have to root him out. But I’m having trouble concentrating. Santino has more to tell me. I can read him just as he can read me. A lifelong friendship does that to you. So I can see the weight on him as he sits and stares at nothing, his mind a whirling dervish of trouble.
“This new player. I think he’s the one who hit Carter,” he says quietly.
“I know.” I tick off the spreadsheet and move on to the next entry.
“You know?” He turns, his eyebrows high. “How?”
I place my pen next to the sheet and lean back. “A feeling. We deal with blood and death every day. Our soldiers die, we are threatened, and we have to fight to keep what’s ours. But what happened to Carter—the bullet that took him out was fired by a coward.”
“Shot in the back.” Santino shakes his head and pats his shirt pocket for his cigarettes.
“Yes. Lured out to buy a present for his son and murdered on the spot. Put down like he was nothing more than a dog. Throat slashed in exactly the same manner as both his parents.” I fist my hands, my nails biting into my palms. “It was a message. Whoever this new player is, he knows us. He knows our weaknesses, and he knows our history. When I find him, he will wish he’d never come here.” Pure rage fills me at the memory of Carter’s murder. I loved him like a brother, but what was worse, I had to tell his son that his father was never coming home.
I will keep Carter’s son safe, and I will keep my little lioness close. She’s a target now that she revealed herself at the funeral. And I will continue pushing my men to find the one responsible for her brother’s death so I can end him myself and stop the threat to both Apollonia and Carter.
A yowling sound echoes down the hall.
“The fuck is that?” Santino looks up.
I rub the bridge of my nose as a high-pitched mewl squeaks louder and louder.
“Nothing, sir. Just a kitten we found slinking around the house. Flavia was trying to feed it, but I assumed you wouldn’t want a--”
“Bring it here.” I wave the soldier into my office.
“I bet that old tabby that hangs out in the barn finally got knocked up.” Santino snorts. “But that is definitely the runt of the litter.”
“Closer,” I call.
The soldier swallows hard and walks in. He’s got the kitten’s scruff pinched in his hand as the little thing cries and tries to claw him.
“Where did you come from?” I lean forward and reach for it.
The soldier hands it over, then backs away. A little orange thing with faint stripes, it tries to bite my finger with its needle-like teeth.
I smile. “You remind me of someone.” I pick it up by the scruff and inspect it. “A little girl. One with teeth and claws. You’ll fit in well here.” I scoop her up and stride past my soldier.
“Don’t tell me we’re keeping it.” Santino sighs. “We’ve got problems piling up all over, the Calottis are trying to move in our territory, and there’s a new player that I can’t get any intel on, yet now you’re going to take in a stray? That’s the last thing we need.”
“Keep talking and you’ll be the one responsible for cleaning its litter,” I throw over my shoulder.
He grumbles but doesn’t complain again.
The kitten, however, makes her objections known as I hurry her through the house and up to Carter’s room. He and Apollonia are there playing. I know this because I can’t seem to