Page 41 of Angel's Share

“We’ll be married by then.” His blue eyes hardened. “They can all fuck off.”

“So you don’t know about the diamonds?” Aidan said.

Pudge’s gaze whipped to him. “What fucking diamonds?”

“The multimillion dollars’ worth that Darien White said he stole on your orders.”

He shot off the table. “I will fucking murder that junkie myself.”

“Too late. Your man inside already did that.”

“Holy fuck.” He wavered on his feet, and if not for Rick grabbing him by the good arm and lowering him into the closest chair, Jamie was sure he would’ve hit the deck. “Someone’s not a fan, Pudge,” Rick said, claiming the chair beside him. “And they’re setting you up to take the fall. Got any guesses who?”

He didn’t have to think about his response. “Michael Martino,” he answered instantly.

Jamie’s gaze connected with Aidan’s across the table. Now they were getting somewhere, everything leading back to Martino.

“Why’s that?” Rick asked, continuing to play the good cop. “Why Martino?”

Pudge glanced at the clock again.

“Forty-five seconds,” Matt said.

“And it better be good,” Aidan pressed. “Because White said he was delivering those diamonds to Michael’s dead brother for you. I don’t know that I buy you two aren’t working together.”

“Okay, listen,” Pudge said, spreading his scraped and swollen hand on the table. “After you guys popped Michael’s brother, Russo didn’t want anything to do with them. Neither did Lara.”

“Who was she to Michael?” Berat asked.

“They were engaged.”

“And now you two are together.”

Pudge nodded. “As for the business, Arty and Michael had their own connections. Some of the business splintered and went Michael’s way.”

Matt stepped closer. “Like the jewelry theft business?”

“That, high-end financial stuff, cybercrimes. The stuff Russo wanted out of. Big bucks, sure, but a lot of attention if it goes sideways.”

“Any idea what Martino’s playing at now?” Aidan asked.

“Revenge,” Pudge offered. “Set me and Russo up so he can take the rest of the business too.”

“And get his girl back.”

The buzzer sounded, but not as loudly as Pudge’s conviction, his gaze hardening once more. “That’s never gonna happen.”

“Then tell us where Martino might be.”

“There a hockey game in town?”

“Tomorrow night,” Berat said.

“He’ll be there.”

Jamie flashed Aidan a grin. “Guess you’re going back to that arena after all.”

TWENTY-SIX

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