For Luca (Chicago Syndicate Book 2) (16 page)

Bracing his neck with two hands, he answers, “She’s untraceable.”

I wonder whether Adriano has genuine, deep feelings for Camilla. “Did you ever bind Camilla into silence?” Usually, only Syndicate members are bound into silence by committing murder; therefore they can never break the code of silence and secrecy without facing murder charges. We were supposed to bind Fallon and Camilla into silence in a more lenient way, so I told Fallon she was connected to the crimes we committed in the parish, but at that moment, she was too shocked to even comprehend what I was implying.

“Did you bind Fallon into silence?” he retorts.

“No, I didn’t see the point. She thinks I did though and that she can somehow get into trouble over the shooting at the Parish of the Blessed.”

“Before I could figure out a way to do it, Cam was already missing,” he clarifies.

“Don’t let James or anyone else know that you’re still looking for her,” I warn.

“I won’t. So the building you were held at yesterday is owned by”—he moves closer to his screen—“an unpronounceable Russian name.”

Getting up, I stand beside his chair. “Let me see.” The name is unfamiliar. “Let Henry cross reference the name through his system. Did he already check the camera feed of the parking garage and the industrial area to see if the license number of the van might be on it? I do believe there’s a connection between Club 7, Collopy, and my capture last night.” The men who captured me probably had the cameras from the parking garage disabled, but I want Henry to check it nonetheless.

“He’s on it as we speak,” Adriano confirms and pulls his phone out of his pocket to answer a call. “Henry,” he greets and looks at me.

Returning behind my desk, I contemplate how to get out of the gala function but come up blank because it’s imperative to show our faces at these public events once in a while.

Adriano puts his phone on speaker so that Henry can update me.

“Luca, I don’t think this was pre-meditated because the cameras weren’t disabled in the parking lot, or they’re really stupid to have forgotten.”

“They’re stupid,” Adriano remarks.

Henry continues, “It was a black Mercedes Sprinter Cargo you were taken in. License is registered to a Justin Belfort. Criminal record consists of misdemeanors and DUIs. And he’s a registered offender.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

“No, he’s a small-timer. I tracked him down quickly.”

“Text me where we can find him, Henry. Thanks.”

“Will do. Later.”

Adriano eases back in his chair as my phone alerts me of Henry’s incoming message. This guy is fast; I’m quite pleased with him.

“Get Justin Belfort to the warehouse today. We’re going to have a chat with him.”

“I’ll have two soldiers bring him in,” he answers with a playful salute.

***

Around dinnertime, I receive confirmation that my soldier has captured Justin Belfort, and Adriano and I head up north to the warehouse where Damian meets us.

Entering the enormous brown-brick space of the warehouse, we immediately turn right toward the private rooms just as Damian is exiting the third room.

“Any trouble?” I ask.

Damian shakes his head in denial. “He was found easily, and I drugged him, but he’s conscious now.”

Adriano orders Damian, “Stay at the door. Where’s the second soldier?”

“He had a money pick-up in Lake Forest.”

“He needs to come back here when he’s finished because I need two soldiers to clean up when we’re done.”

Damian nods in understanding as we continue on to the room where Justin is blindfolded and strapped on his back, spread-eagle, on a metal table. His head jerks to the sound of the door when I let it fall closed, and Adriano silently moves to him, bringing his mouth closer to his ear.

“Boo!” Adriano screams, and Justin cries and yanks at his chains.

His panicked voice thunders between the brown walls. “Where am I? Who are you? You motherfucker, let me go!”

I remove my suit jacket and roll up my sleeves slowly, letting him brood in distress while I prepare to get even for him waterboarding me last night. The soles of my shoes echo off the dirty concrete floor.

Every one of the four private rooms is equipped with diverse tools, neatly stacked in a drawer in the corner. Without speaking, I take out the cutting tool with the sharpest blade and press the point of the knife slightly against the pad of my forefinger, testing the sharpness. Then I cut two pieces of duct tape with a pair of scissors.

Towering above him at his head, I make my presence known. “Justin Belfort.”

Adriano takes up position at Justin’s feet after taking his gun from its holster, arms tucked behind his back.

Justin sways his head anxiously from left to right. “Who the fuck are you?”

I slide the blindfold onto his forehead, and in a quick move, tape his eyelashes against his brows so his eyelids can’t close.

“What the fuck…” His watery blue eyes strain to focus.

Digging my fingers into his cheeks to still his head, I lean down so that he sees me up close, upside down. From behind me, I grip the handle of the knife with my left hand and show him the blade. “Hello there; I am the person you so generously waterboarded yesterday,” I state in a low voice.

The veins in his eyes are becoming darker and clearer as he desperately tries to close them, rattling in his chains and spitting while he protests, “Wh-What?”

Fucker! Not so tough now.

“Why did you take me?” I demand to know.

“I-I don’t know—”

Before he gets a chance to deny everything, I bring the point of my knife close to his left eye and graze it over the slime of his eyeball while holding a fierce grip on his cheeks. He screams out in agony, but I haven’t cut him. “I’m not a patient man. One question, one answer. For every denial, I’m going to press deeper,” I warn while starting to sweat from steadying the knife in my hand so close to his eyeball. My patience is already wearing thin because Fallon’s hurt, and I don’t know why. I can smell his fear, which spurs me on. “Why me?” I inch the knife away slightly.

Justin blows out an unsteady breath of relief. “Because he wanted to know what your connection to Michaels is.”

I continue hurriedly, “Who is ‘he’?”

“Ashton.”

“Ashton who?”

“Ashton Banks,” he reveals. “My eyes burn…argh.”

Covering my hand over his mouth, I look up to Adriano, whose eyes enlarge in surprise and recognition of the name, but I have no clue who Ashton is. “Banks?”

Adriano answers, “Alex.”

I frown and focus back on Justin, I press the flat side of the blade right under the skin of his left eye and slice it open. Blood trickles down the side of his face.

“Fucking shit!” he yells, tugging and pulling the chains continually. His screams resound loudly through the bleak room.

“What does he want with her? Speak quickly,” I order in louder tone.

“He wants her to pay for Alex’s death.”

“Why does he think she’s responsible?”

“Alex left him a note before he died,” he replies through uncontrolled breaths.

Collopy’s note is stirring up all kinds of shit! “Why take me last night?”

“We wanted to know if you might be the person pulling the strings in the investigation.” He inhales and doesn’t elaborate, so I press the blade harder against the edge of his eye, cutting deeper into his skin, almost wounding his eyeball. More red lines dribble from his eyes.

“STOP! Arghhhh… He-He doesn’t understand how she’s getting away with it. Her police file keeps changing.”

That
is
my doing. I didn’t make the note disappear in the beginning because of my resentment toward Fallon, so I told Adriano to do nothing until she came to me for help. However, I did tamper with the investigation just to throw the detective off. “Did you follow Fallon for Ashton?”

“Yes, but sometimes he stalked her himself.”

“Did you spike her drink at Cocktails & Heels?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“And you two were following her last night to the coffee shop, and then followed me after she and I parted?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Ashton now?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Don’t you dare deny!” I told him I would fucking cut his eye out if he starts with denials.

“I-I swear I don’t. After last night, I was told to stay away from him.”

“Who the hell are you to him?” Adriano asks.

“No one. He doesn’t tell me what’s going on. He gives me a job, and I do it.”

Standing back, I release my grip on Justin as Adriano points his weapon at his chest and pulls the trigger. Three bullets to end Justin’s life.

I gesture to Adriano to move out because we have that damn gala before I can see Fallon, and he follows me. “It was staring us right in the face. So much could’ve been prevented! Fuck! I thought you looked into Alex’s family? Who the fuck is Ashton Banks?”

He’s quick to defend himself as we stride toward the exit of the warehouse. “His stepbrother, the guy who dissolved Charity Events. I
did
look into him, and we both agreed that I didn’t find anything of significance warranting us to dig deeper.”

“How could we have missed this?”

“You were also busy drinking the first week after she ended the relationship,” he counters heatedly. “Don’t start blaming me. I agree that I fucked up, but so did you. We haven’t exactly been on top of our game lately.”

I sigh in frustration as we cross the threshold because he makes a good point. “Damian, you can clean,” I command as we pass him. “Maybe Ashton Banks
is
the guy I saw at Club 7 with that silver cross pendant?”

“Could be.” Adriano fishes out his pack of smokes and with his teeth, he pulls one cigarette out to light it.

“If he’s a member of that depraved fight club, then I’m very worried about how far he would go to get his revenge. Every soldier must focus on finding Ashton, except the two teams looking for Collopy. Any update on her?”

Blowing the smoke out of his nose, he shakes his head and clicks on his key to unlock the doors of his BMW.

After we settle into the car, I immediately start making calls to track down Ashton. Then I send a picture of Ashton to the doctor so that he can keep an eye out for him at the hospital as Adriano hits the gas to rush us back to The Loop because we have to attend that Gala before I can visit Fallon.

***

I loosen the tie of my tux while making my way to my bedroom so that I can change and finally head over to the hospital when one of my disposable phones on the nightstand rings. “Yes.” In the rush to get to the gala, I forgot both disposable phones. I usually have at least one with me.

“Fallon is in police custody,” Doc informs me.

Dread immediately fills my entire body. “Since when?” I grab the other phone, and I see twenty missed calls and many messages. One of them informing me that Collopy is dead and Fallon has been arrested.

“I’m not sure, maybe an hour ago. I had already released her so you could take her without having to wait for the paperwork, but apparently a detective has arrested her. Your soldier has been trying to contact you.”

“Yeah, I saw. I’ll call you later.” I hang up to hurriedly contact Salvatore while images of Fallon alone in a cold cell feed my fury. “Fallon Michaels has been arrested for the murder of Kelli Ann Collopy. How quickly can you get her out?”

Salvatore is disturbingly silent before he answers, “I’m not sure I can now. I’ll have to look into it.”

“Use any means necessary because I swear to god, Salvatore, I’ll go crazy if she has to spend a night in jail.” I’m unable to control the tremble of my hands. “We discovered it has been Ashton Banks trying to avenge his brother’s death by fucking with Fallon’s life.”

A door shuts on his end. “I’m getting in the car now, and I have a feeling you won’t be able to stay away, but it’s better that you’re not seen with her at the police station.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m not coming too. You get her out of there or I’ll break her out myself!” I bellow, absolutely furious that I wasn’t informed sooner – even though it was my fault that I left the phone at home. They should’ve contacted me on my smartphone! I run to the elevator without bothering to change.

CHAPTER 18

Fallon

Where the hell is Luca?

Dabbing my face with the tissue, I listen to Wade trying to break me down even more. The rush of anxiety shoves my physical pain away for a moment.

“Who attacked you?” He returns to his seat and peruses me with perceptive eyes. “Do you even know what’s going on?”

To break his stare, I keep swiping my cheeks but don’t speak. Should I stick to Luca’s story about some random attacker at my house? Or should I confess it was Collopy?