77. Kade

77

Kade

" T his is a list of properties owned by or connected to Mashkov." Alberto scans the list and looks up at me.

"There are dozens."

I control the urge to roll my eyes, knowing full well Alberto won't appreciate the gesture, but I am becoming increasingly frustrated by his inaction. We've pulled in a few minor members of the Bratva for 'questioning', but they knew nothing.

Tessa and Chloe have disappeared into thin air. If Mashkov has her, which Alberto is still prevaricating over, then we need to move quickly.

"Any news, brother?" Dante sticks his head in the door of Alberto's office, a cigar in one hand and a glass of Scotch in the other.

To anyone who doesn't know him, Dante would appear concerned. But all that concern is a front. The man is more reptile than human. I'm not sure he's capable of human emotion, which is what makes him so dangerous. I just wish Alberto took my concerns seriously.

Alberto sighs. "Not yet."

"Well if there's anything you need, just ask."

"Perhaps you could ask Kirov if he knows anything?" I ask, keeping my expression neutral.

"Kirov?"

"Yes, Mashkov's right-hand man. I believe you had a long conversation with him last night at the Pussycat Lounge."

"Kade," Alberto snaps. The threat in his voice is clear, but I ignore it. Dante knows something and I'm not willing to let it go. Alberto may prefer to stick his head in the sand where his brother is concerned, but I'm not.

If that puts me in Alberto's cross-hairs, then so be it. The longer Tessa and Chloe are missing, the more danger they are in.

Dante leans against the door looking deceptively relaxed but the way he grips his glass tells me he's anything but relaxed. A small vein throbs in his temple.

"Are you questioning my loyalty, Kade?" he asks in a conversational tone. Alberto rubs his jaw and signs. Dante and I have been butting heads for years, but Alberto holds all the power, and while Dante would love nothing more than to shoot me in the fucking head for my lack of respect, he knows Alberto would rain hell down on him.

I am like the son he would have had if his wife hadn't been stolen from her bed that fateful night. The man who will one day take over the family. At least that's what he often says when he's had one too many drinks and is feeling chatty.

"Not at all, Dante. Just asking if Kirov might have said something. Seeing as how you two seem to be so well acquainted."

"Why you little--" Dante lunges toward me, spilling his drink all over the polished mahogany floor. I take a step back, my hand on my gun. Not that I expect to have to use it. Dante is all mouth. The man couldn't shoot a fish in a barrel on a good day. He's much too soft. The curse of the younger, dissolute brother with too much time on his hands and no purpose in life.

"Dante! Enough!" Alberto roars. His brother stops dead. For all that he likes to push the boundaries, he knows Alberto has his limits.

"Kade makes a good point. You have been seen with Kirov - and Mashkov - more than a few times, Dante. Care to explain?"

Dante half-smiles, but there's no warmth there. "We're all members of the same club. It's hard to avoid them. I also talk to the Albanians and the Irish. Call it intelligence gathering, brother."

He drops his glass on the nearby bar cart. He takes a drag on his cigar and the scent of cigar smoke wafts around Alberto's office. Alberto grimaces in distaste but says nothing. Like me, he's not a fan of smoking. Dante knows this, and he does it anyway. It's one of many small rebellions Alberto should have shut down over the years - and hasn't.

"Intelligence gathering is good. So what intelligence have you gathered, brother?"

From the way Dante briefly scowls, he wasn't expecting Alberto to call his bluff.

"Yes, have you learned anything interesting? Someone tipped off the DEA last week, and we lost a shipment. Perhaps Kirov knows something about that." One of my informants says the Russians are trying to disrupt our trade with the Vargas Cartel, but it's hearsay at this point.

"I've not heard anything. The Russians are mostly concerned with trafficking these days." He shrugs. "It makes a lot more money than drugs," he adds, throwing a glare in Alberto's direction.

This has long been a bone of contention between them. Dante thinks we need to get involved in the skin trade, and Alberto refuses.

"Keep your ear to the ground. If you hear anything useful, I want to know about it." Alberto fixes Dante with a hard look and after a few seconds, Dante dips his head and nods deferentially.

"Of course. That's why I'm a regular at the club." He blesses us with an oily smile and I snort. Bullshit . Dante goes to the club because it's frequented by men like him: men with sick tastes.

"If you hear anything about Tessa and Chloe, come to me. Got it?"

Dante nods once more and then leaves.

"Do you believe him?" I ask, curious.

"Of course."

"Hmm."

"You don't." Alberto pours another drink and takes a sip. He looks old tonight. Far older than his 50-something years. The stress of Tessa's disappearance is weighing heavily on him. History is repeating itself.

"No, I don't trust that asshole as far as I could throw him."

"Kade," Alberto admonishes, but there's no heat in the words. He knows my feelings on the topic. "Dante may like to color outside the lines on occasion, but I don't doubt his loyalty."

There are many things I'd like to say, but I keep my mouth shut. The truth will come out eventually. One day soon, Dante will make a mistake and I'll have the proof he is behind all our issues. Until then, I'll keep watching him.

"I know."

My phone rings. It's Quinn. "Gotta take this," I say, not wanting to talk to Quinn in Alberto's presence. He doesn't know I've been working with Quinn. He'd hit the roof if he did, even though Quinn has access to resources we don't.

As soon as I'm far enough away from Alberto's office, I accept the call.

"I got something," Quinn says.