14. Ezra

Chapter fourteen

Ezra

“Elio," I call out, halting him just as he passes down the hallway. He must have been searching for me, almost missing me on his way to the study.

I step out of my bedroom, carefully pulling the bedroom door closed behind me, and turn to face him.

He glances between the door and me. “Raven?”

“ Dormendo (Sleeping).” She had only just drifted off, her tired, heavy eyes finally surrendering to exhaustion after her tearful breakdown.

Elio’s forehead furrows, his thoughts visibly turning. I know exactly what’s on his mind—no woman has ever set foot in that room except Silvia.

“ è traumatizzata (She is traumatized). She needs the rest.” I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to downplay the new revelation.

With a nod of my head, I signal him to walk in the direction of the study.

“What do you have for me? Voglio solo buone notizie (I want only good news).”

Elio has been working to get information about the intruder since the incident, but I don’t need feedback to know that there’s a fifty percent chance he’s connected to Russo. What I, however, need answers on is why Raven? Why attack Raven and not me?

“No words yet on the infiltrator. We are still working on that,” he starts. “We’ve searched his body. There’s nothing on him… apart from the knife and a house key, so we can’t identify him yet.”

I curl my lips in irritation. “Elio, that’s not good enough. I need results.”

I don’t know what I’ll do if someone else comes back for her. I curl my lips in distaste once the thought crosses my mind. I shouldn’t feel that way.

We come to a halt in front of the study. Elio opens the door, allowing me to step inside before he follows. Then he walks briskly to my desk and retrieves a brown file from it.

“ Ho qualcosa di meglio (I have something better)…” He jiggles the file like a present on Christmas morning. “ Si tratta di Russo (It’s about Russo),” Elio finally says. “ Abbiamo una pista (We have a lead).”

My ears perk at the name, my mind shifting into focus mode. Everything else fades at the mention of Russo. At long last, some good news.

“ Dimmi tutto (Tell me everything).” I round the table to sit in the work chair.

He settles in the chair before me, returning the file to the desk. “The IT guys have been combing through CCTVs from when Russo visited two weeks ago. We narrowed down his location to Riverdale.”

His face lightens up as he speaks. “Last night, one ground investigator got lucky. He spotted Russo.”

I nod slowly, digesting every word. “ E sei sicuro che sia lui (And you’re sure it’s him)?” A smile tugs at my lips, and hope unfurls in my chest like a blooming flower.

Elio nods assuredly. “Positive. He’s got that signature snake tattoo on his neck…can’t miss it.”

I lean in and flip open the file before me. There are stacks of papers and photos inside. I pick the photos first– they are grainy, but the details are still clear. Elio keeps his eyes on me, drumming four fingers lightly on the desk.

One shot captures Russo in slacks and a hoodie, stepping out of a drug store. His head is tucked into a baseball cap, glancing back over his shoulder, the snake tattoo on his neck peeking out.

Another image shows him in a shadowed alley, hunched close to a man who towered over his average height, their postures suggesting a heated discussion.

The angle is terrible, though—the guy’s face is too blurred to make anything out.

“ Chi è questo (Who’s this)?” I ask, pointing to the man with a flick of my finger. Russo’s stance is guarded, his shoulders squared. The way he leans in yet keeps a wary distance tells me he doesn’t fully trust the man he’s conversing with.

Elio’s eyes follow my fingers before he stops his rhythm on the desk. “Could be a small-time drug dealer. Russo’s been spotted doing business with similar men. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself,” he says, while my eyes and hands work together, sifting through the other photos. “He’s still wanted by the police.”

“Get me info on this new guy.” Elio acknowledges the order with a nod. We will leave no stones unturned when it comes to Russo.

I take a keen interest in the next photo, a red apartment building with most of its paint peeled off. “Russo’s?” The four-story structure is cloaked in green shrubs that emerge from the cracks in the walls.

Elio takes one look and grins widely. “Sì (Yes).”

I clench my fist tightly, anger mixing with my excitement. Russo chose an excellent hideaway. Nothing about the place screams ‘criminal mastermind’.

But he’s not hidden from me anymore.

My focus shifts to the address at the base of the luster paper. “334 Fieldstone Drive, Riverdale, NY 10471,” I narrow my eyes on the paper, squeezing the edge like it’s Russo’s neck.

My fingers itch to have themselves around the bastard. I can’t wait to see who’s really behind all this.

Unclenching my fist, I lift my eyes to my right-hand man. There’s a mix of anger and excitement in his expression, too. “Get the men ready. We’ll take him down tonight. Partiamo dal crepuscolo (We leave at dusk).”

Elio nods almost immediately.

“ Tieni tutto nascosto (Keep everything under wraps),” I don’t take my eyes off the picture. “This operation is highly confidential, only the men involved should be aware of it.”

That’s how the cartel will be run from now; only the men assigned to a task will be privy to information about that particular task. I need to be more careful, especially after the incident with the mole.

Elio obliges, “I’ll have everything set within the hour.”

I look at the digital wall clock– 5:57 p.m. A delightful thrill slowly hums in my blood. In a few hours, everything that’s led to this moment will finally be worth it.

When Elio gets up to leave, I stop him, recalling one last thing. “ Aspetta (Wait).”

The shuffle of his feet comes to a halt as he pauses, looking back at me. “I need every security personnel on duty today thoroughly checked. Ensure they had nothing to do with the intruder, then have them punished. Come up with something deserving.”

Elio gives me a sharp nod. “ Ho capito (Got it).”

The intruder was skilled enough to maneuver my guards. Two of them were found dead in the mansion, the two by her door. Three guards were also found dead in the backyard. The bastard had snuck up– climbed– without drawing the attention of many guards and broken in from the top floor– Raven’s floor.

Still, I want the guards all vetted. Another mole is a risk I can’t afford. I hate to think what would’ve happened to her if I didn’t hear her screams.

As he leaves, I go back to flipping through the rest of the file. The investigator had included written notes on Russo’s routine, and his movements. He had noted that Russo always has dinner in his flat by 9:30 p.m., so he should be home when we get there. Tonight, we will put an end to this madness.

I stash the papers in my drawer and pick up my pen. There were still other matters that needed attending to.

The knot twisting in my stomach loosens, my focus shifting as the distraction pulls me in for the next few hours.

I sign off on the last of the paperwork, the scratching of my pen filling the quiet room, when the door creaks open. Elio steps in without waiting for an invitation, his eyes meeting mine. “It’s time.”

***

The tension is high when the car stops a few blocks away from Russo’s apartment. Without wasting time, I jump down, and three other men, including Elio, follow.

“Stay in the car. Alert us if you notice anything out of the ordinary,” I order the driver. “This should be quick.”

With a nod, I signal to the others, and we crouch toward a dark alley that faces the building. Our sleek fitted jackets and cargo pants blend seamlessly into the darkness. Elio and I take the lead while the remaining two men follow closely behind.

Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I scan every corner of the surroundings. The last thing we need is to be ambushed by Russo himself, a man who’s equally as dangerous as we are.

Slowly, I come to a stop at the end of the alley, pressing myself against the wall. I look back to see the three other men mimic my stance and turn to assess our position.

Before me, the dilapidated four-story building towers at a distance from the alley. Between our position and the unfenced compound, there’s a large block of steel container that rests horizontally. Perfect .

I bring two hands to my head and point to the building. The signal is clear to my men, and we move, crouched and with hurried strides until our backs are against the container.

“Unit ten, second floor,” Elio says from where he is crunched beside me, nodding at the four-story building. Then he angles his fingers at another building. “That’s the same drugstore from the pictures.” He gestures to said store two buildings down, with its neon sign barely hanging on by a thread.

It’s safe to say we are closing in on Russo.

I bring my eyes back to the first building and watch that apartment floor for any signs of life. Sure enough, a shadow moves behind the window, the faint glow of a light breaking through the filth-stained glass. I glance at my wristwatch—9:53 p.m. Just like the investigator had noted, Russo is home–probably having dinner.

We have him.

Tensing my back, I turn to my men. “We must capture him tonight. Don’t draw your guns unless it’s absolutely necessary. We can’t mess this up. Russo is a crafty man. Keep your eyes wide open for any possible tricks.”

They nod, their bodies visibly tensing for action. With my three fingers raised, I count down from three, pulling each finger down until I reach one. “Go.”

Instantly, they jump out of the cover and jog toward the entrance. Two of them come to a halt on either side of the door, their shoulders leaning stiffly against the walls. I nod at them, and they push the door open, thankfully with minimal force because it’s unlocked.

Stinky trash that seems to have gathered over a long time greets us as we enter. The hallway is dimly lit and quiet, save for the occasional scamper of rodents. Did no one else live in the building?

“Take the fire exit and the hallway,” I nod at the two men and motion in the opposite direction. “Elio, you’re coming with me. We’ll take the stairs.”

I steady a hand on the waistband of my pants, feeling my gun strapped to my side. I don’t want surprises.

My eyes strain to catch any motion in the dark as we ascend the stairs. The building is noticeably quiet as our feet thud lightly against the cracked floorboard in the hallways.

When we make it to the second floor, I throw my fingers against my nose. The stench of stale alcohol is stronger, and it takes a lot of self-control not to puke my guts out.

“ Siamo qui (We’re here),” Elio whispers, lowering himself in a crouch position in order to work the doorknob with a set of lockpicks. It would blow our cover to knock the door down.

There’s a click before I push the door slowly open and enter. My pulse quickens, and I tighten my fist against my gun as I scan the room. The scene before me is not what I expect.

The same smell that hangs on the second floor lingers in his room. I narrow my eyes at a half-eaten pizza on the couch. It seems to still be fresh. But that’s not the only thing. The old box TV flickers in a corner, displaying an old noir film, and adjacent to it, there’s a small table filled with scattered documents.

The space is small. Just a room and a toilet, which Elio is walking to. I grit my teeth and scan the room again, yanking every obstacle as I pace the corners. There’s not much space the bastard can hide, and that can only mean one thing.

Fuck. The food is enough to tell me that Russo was here. Clenching my fist, I stride away from a corner and stop in front of the small table. I’m glancing at the papers, and most of them are empty. The few that don't have random dates scribbled on them.

“Boss, you need to see this,” Elio calls out from the toilet just as I reach to grab one piece of paper.

I hurry towards him, and the anger I’ve been trying to keep at bay rises. Fuck!

Fresh air gusts in from the open window. Gritting my teeth, I brush past Elio and raise myself against the dirty tub. The window looks out the back of the building, and there stand several abandoned structures on a large expanse of land.

Sneaky motherfucker! No wonder he chose this location. Desolate and easy to flee.

“He’s gone, but it seems there wasn’t enough time to clean his trail,” Elio informs. I trace his voice back to the room.

Elio is bent over the table, pulling out a pile of papers that happened to be in a leather briefcase. He probably fetched it from under the table.

His brow furrows as he looks up at me. “Russo’s financial records. He’s been getting payments from someone named Tsvetok Smerti.”

I frown. The name is unfamiliar.

“Does it ring a bell?”

I shake my head. “But it’s Russian.”

“You think he’s working with them?” Elio shuffles between the papers in his hand, his brows furrowing even more as he scans each one. “The name is all over every transaction.”

I walk to him and glance at the papers. The name is recurring in the space allocated for parties involved . “The Russians won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, let alone do business with him. They don’t deal with loners. And with the task force breathing down his neck, no familia would be crazy enough to take Russo in. Except—” I interrupt my own words as the pieces fit in my head.

“There is someone else behind that name.”

I turn to Elio, voice low but urgent. “Get me everything on this Tsvetok Smerti. Now. Russo might be smarter than we give him credit for.”