For Luca (Chicago Syndicate Book 2) (7 page)

“Wake up. Busy day ahead. I’m picking you up in an hour.”

Disgruntled, I only manage to croak a deep rumble as acknowledgement and let the phone slide onto the lounger as I close my eyes.

I passed out on the terrace last night.

My stomach rumbles and nausea surfaces. I can’t be around Fallon without her screwing with my head. She haunts me during the day
and
at night. I fell for her because she was the only person with whom I could just be. When I was with her, I wasn’t the underboss of the Syndicate or the boss of Security Simplicity, constantly taking care of business. She gave me a sense of harmony that calmed me down, that made me enjoy the non-Syndicate aspects of my life more.

However now, after her dismissal of our relationship, the thought of her stirs a chaotic range of emotions in me. She used to be my solace, and now it’s the exact opposite – she’s my trigger. My trigger to drink. My only reprieve is found in alcohol, but even that only numbs me for a while, and then everything comes back full force, intensifying the pain with this horrible headache and queasiness.

She has the audacity to keep throwing lies and betrayal in my face without once giving me the chance to explain or have a serious heart to heart. Supposedly, women always want to communicate and define relationships, but I found the one woman who’s a closed book, and I can’t seem to get through to her. Granted, I also didn’t handle things well the last couple of days.

Rubbing my middle fingers in the corner of my eyes, I rise and unsteadily go to my bathroom to rinse off the weekend. Rinse her from my mind, yet again.

Adriano – always just as punctual as I am – texts me that he just pulled up as I sip an espresso in the kitchen. Opening the drawer of my island, I search for my headache remedy and grab a bottle of water from the fridge before I head down to meet him.

I slide into his BMW, which is parked right in front the building, and turn down the volume of the radio before I screw the top off the bottle.

“You look like shit.” He puts the car in drive.

Tilting my head back, I down the water along with two Advil.

“We’re going to the office.” He glances at me intently. “You need to show your face, and we need to sign some new documents. Maybe we should attend a few events too because it’s been too long since we’ve participated in our security business.”

I slowly nod.

“Luca, you have to stop this self-destruction.
No
woman is worth losing your life over. You promised James, now follow through. We give you a week, and you deteriorate the moment you lay eyes on her.”

“Yeah, the weekend sucked.”

Adriano sighs loudly. “We went into this together. You owe it to me to stop playing with your own life. James has been patient, but he’s not anymore. This is our life, and she doesn’t want to accept it. You have to move on, and I get that it’s difficult when we still need to keep an eye on her.”

My gaze shifts to Adriano, and I realize that I do owe it to my best friend because without me as his underboss, he would live an entirely different life. Without him, I would have a completely different, less trustworthy,
Capo
. “Give me some time. Cover for me occasionally, but I promise I will be myself again soon.”

“Okay. But you have to start answering your calls and act like the underboss again. Don’t let James or anyone else see your weakness –
you
told
me
that.”

My head falls back against the seat while the Advil is kicking in. “She came by yesterday.”

His eyes instantaneously cut to mine.

“She received the money and was
not
happy.”

He brakes at the intersection and waits for the light to change to green. “She’ll need it. I hope she’s smart enough to keep it.”

“That’s what I told her. The fact that she’s not telling me about the investigation concerns me. Why is she determined to keep it from me and not ask for help? Unless she
is
working with the police? Collopy’s week to make the note disappear has passed, but I bet she hasn’t kept her word.”

“Collopy is MIA,” Adriano remarks and hits the gas.

“Since when?”

“Three days ago, I think. Check your messages. I’ve been working a lot the last few days, picking up your slack without any of the other members noticing.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You better get me a fucking stunning stripper for my birthday to make it up to me.”

Grinning, I offer, “One with huge tits?”

“No, no, no,” he complains dramatically, and his mouth twitches in amusement. “Huge ass. You know I’m an ass man.”

“Depends on the woman with you. You’re not always an ass man.” I gulp the entire bottle of water down to quell my thirst.

Adriano turns the wheel to the right, rounds the skyscraper, and heads toward the garage. “Well, some women have such gorgeous tits, I don’t see anything else.”

“See, then you’re not an ass man. You’re undecided,” I tease, and he parks the vehicle in the vacant spot with his nametag on the wall.

A perky blonde receptionist, who I don’t recognize, welcomes us as soon as we walk in. “Good morning, Luca, Adriano.”

Adriano winks at her, and she giggles in an irritatingly high tone while crowds of people pass her desk.

After we rush inside the first elevator that opens, Adriano presses the button to the thirtieth floor, and we step back to let others enter.

The entire floor belongs to our company, Security Simplicity, but we rent out half of the office space. I haven’t stepped foot in the office for over three weeks, which isn’t uncommon, but with Alex’s investigation and the explosion at our headquarters, I need to be more consistent about maintaining the façade. If any clean detective digs just a little deeper into Fallon Michaels’ past, it will lead him to me.

Adriano and I share an office next to the management team, our three directors who manage daily operations. They’re reliable associates of the Syndicate. We disappear into their office to sign monthly reports, and Adriano informs them that we’re investing a huge amount of money in research and development – the money we’re using is our profit from the drug traffic in the East.

As of just recently, the Syndicate solely rules the drug traffic in every establishment and on every street corner in Chicago. North Chicago is regulated by Biagio and is back under our control since James killed Leggia. Our drug profit is in cash and is laundered through two companies. James and Salvatore launder through one, and Adriano and I launder through the other, Security Simplicity. Adriano is my partner by my own choice because he has a higher rank than the other
Capi
as my back-up, and just like me, he earns a legal income from Security Simplicity. All the other members of our organization – the two regular
Capi,
John and Alessandro, and our soldiers
–
get paid in cash by Salvatore; there’s not one digital trace between the other two
Capi
and soldiers
and
the four of us. As it’s set up, James, Salvatore, Adriano, and I have gained all our wealth through the security companies – so it seems.

The meeting drags on as they bombard us with tons of questions regarding the new investments because it’s a significantly higher amount than we’ve ever invested. What can I say? Business is doing well, moneywise.

Two hours later, I finally enter my own office which is furnished with just two mahogany desks and chairs that sit opposite each other and a chesterfield lounge sofa by the window. Adriano comes in and hands me a cup of coffee as I tilt the MacBook screen up.

“Can you imagine if this was actually our everyday life? Boring meetings, then off to go home to put the kids to bed, some missionary sex, and the next day wash, rinse, repeat,” he comments.

I laugh at how dramatic he can be sometimes. “Yeah, definitely not meant for us.”

“I’m heading to Finance to finalize this.” He holds up the stack of papers we’ve just signed. “And then we can discuss a plan of action regarding Cam and Collopy.”

I nod and click on the mailbox icon.

When Adriano exits, Janey marches in, turns, and closes the door.

I pick up my pen and tap it against my desk in agitation as I watch her big, brown eyes focus on me.

“Hi, I’ve called you. Seems you’ve been busy.”

She did call me. On the phone that I, at one point, only used for Fallon. Never fuck where you work – something I didn’t get until recently. Janey is beautiful, and there was a time when I used her as a substitute. For two weeks after I met Fallon in that club, I fucked Janey. And there’s only one reason why I did, because she reminded me of another brunette – I was strangely obsessed with Fallon very early on. Janey has the same soft eyes, only Fallon’s sparkle and her lashes are thicker. That same long, wavy, deep brown hair and skin that is so smooth to the touch, but Janey isn’t Fallon. The second I kissed Fallon, she infused herself into my veins, and I never spoke to Janey again outside of work.

“I
have
been busy. How can I help you?” I’ve dismissed all her advances since I started visiting Fallon regularly at her coffee shop, and I made it clear that we were never going to be an item.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” She rests her ass on my desk, right next to me.

I stand without touching her and open the door. “I’m fine and actually busy right now.” I’m not in the mood for this shit, but this is the office, so I stay polite and professional.

“Oh, okay.” She gets the hint. “Maybe we can have lunch?”

Clearly, she didn’t get my hint. “Maybe.” Probably not.

After she leaves, I close the door, return to my desk, and start digging through Camilla Guillermo’s files that we had pulled by our new hacker, Henry. Genius kid; he works at Google but also works for the Syndicate on the side. Most of Camilla’s information is either deleted or classified now, which is odd because before she disappeared, we had another classified file on her. Even classified information is usually accessible by our hacker but not the new classified documents. I search for the original documents in my file labeled ‘Résumés’. Her original file is clean, which is why she was accepted by the Syndicate so easily.

Adriano returns after I’ve worked for half an hour dissecting every page. Without looking up, I state, “Her original file is from another Camilla Guillermo.”

He plops into the chair. “How?”

“She was meticulous because everything matches up. Except when you click ‘Duplicates’ in City Hall’s system, which I’m logged into now, Camilla’s profile comes up as ‘deleted’. Looks like she stole another person’s Social Security Number for a couple of years.”

Adriano eases forward, entwining his fingers on the desk. “She isn’t Camilla? I mean, she took another identity?”

I look up into his widened eyes. “Well, not really. I think her name was issued to another SSN.”

“I lost you. What?”

“I cross checked everything. Someone is going to great lengths here,” I clarify.

“Is this FBI?”

“This doesn’t seem like Feds.” I take a drink of the coffee, wincing when I taste the cold brew. “Did she ever confide in you? Tell you anything about her past?”

Adriano shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m racking my brain right now.” He gazes outside, lost in thought.

“Did you ever notice anything unusual in her behavior when you would mention something? Anything out of the ordinary can help,” I encourage.

His lips tilt down. “No…”

I check my phone when the screen lights up, flashing ‘Henry’. I press answer with my thumb.

“I got something,” he says immediately. “I have a Camilla Guilermo, with one ‘L’, mentioned once in the classified files I accessed. Uhm…” I hear him clicking his mouse lightning fast. “Yeah, so she’s traceable until over a year and a half ago; used to work at Club 7. She was one of Fat Sal’s girls.”

Oh fuck!

“I also found the difference in surname once in the original files you sent us. She vanished right around the time Camilla started working for us. What the hell did she do? Is she or someone else changing all her records?” I ask.

Adriano’s eyes cut to mine, and he lifts a brow.

Henry answers, “That I don’t know yet. But this was clearly done by someone extremely intelligent who wanted to confuse anyone looking for information about Camilla Guilermo.”

“Can you get me into Club 7 tonight? Two people.”

He groans. “I knew you’d ask that. It’s tricky, but I can.”

“Call me if you find out more.” I cut the call.

“And?” Adriano gets out of his seat.

“Guilermo with one ‘L’ used to work for Fat Sal until about eighteen months ago.” I also rise and pocket my phone. “Let’s have lunch, and we’re visiting the club tonight.”

“Fuck.” He mirrors my first thought and follows me. “I’ve never been there.”

“Me either.”

CHAPTER 10

Luca