Page 89 of Bratva Butcher

“Because I got a little peek at the guest list, and Anthony Danforth has marked that he’s attending.”

I stared at him. “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

Mikhail kicked his feet up onto my desk and leant back casually, hands behind his head. “When I first started looking into Talon, I decided to follow the money.”Good idea.Money never lies. “Talon has three separate bank accounts. One in the US, one in Switzerland and one in the Cayman Islands. Now, the US one and the Cayman Islands one didn’t interest me. There was nothing uber suspicious about his transactions. Just the usual rich boy shit. But the Switzerland one?Thatone was interesting.”

“How did you get access? Swiss banks safeguard their clients’ information like Fort Knox.” I knew that because I banked with one.

“A buddy of mine helped me out.”

I gave him a deadpan look.

He smiled. “Okay, okay, you got me. Someone was in the hole with me. 150 grand. I graciously offered to wipe her debt if her sister could get me some information. She just so happened to work in the accounts department at Talon’s bank,” he winked. “Pretty sneaky, huh?”

I grunted.

“Anyway, I took a look at his transactions. One in particular stood out to me. On the first of every month, like clockwork, Talon would transfer Anthony Danforth fifty thousand dollars.”He pulled out a tablet. He tapped away at the screen and then handed it to me.

On the screen was a photo of an attractive man. African American, looked to be in his early to mid fifties, with chestnut brown hair and eyes to match.

“Meet Anthony Danforth. Fifty-four years old. Born in London and moved to the States twelve years ago. He owns several high-end hair salons, and from what I can tell, has absolutely no ties whatsoever to any underground or criminal organizations. He’s just your normal, average working joe.”

“Then why is Talon sending him fifty grand a month?” I frowned.

“Swipe to the next screen,” Mikhail prompted.

When I did, a video sat idle. I pushed play. A grainy image of a sidewalk appeared, a bunch of stores lined up along the left side, the road on the right. People walked up and down the street, carrying shopping bags and chatting amongst themselves. A black Bentley pulled up and parked in front of a store called Vintage Elegance. A man got out of the car, dressed in dark pants and a long, dark trench coat with the collar up, shielding half his face from the side. The dark cap on his head helped to further hide his identity, but familiarity sparked.

Anthony came running out of the hair salon in excitement and jumped into the man’s arms. He kissed the man passionately, accidentally knocking off his hat and revealing his face.

My whole body shot to life.Talon.

“Anthony is Talon’s lover,” I whispered under my breath.

“Bingo.” Mikhail clicked his fingers. “I dug further into Anthony. It turns out, once a year, he would take a sabbatical from work and travel. Whenever I tried to track down exactly where he went, I hit a break wall. No matter how hard I tried, I always lost him when he got to Naples. It was like the trail just went cold.”

“He was taken to the Island,” I said, connecting the dots.

“Bingo again.”

My mind ran a mile a minute. “When was this video taken?”

“Three days ago. Now, before you get all excited, Talon’s not there anymore. I sent men to talk with Anthony, and he clamped up instantly. He wouldn’t talk. My men had orders to take him if that was the case, but Talon was smart enough to put a team of guards on him to protect him. My men couldn’t do shit without attracting a fuckton of attention, so they had to leave. Unfortunately, that was exactly what Anthony wanted. The fucker went into hiding, most likely with Talon, and I can’t find them anywhere.”

Fuck’s sake.“Here’s where Allistair’s Ball comes into play,” I grumbled.

“Damn, Dimitri, you’re really on a roll today,” Mikhail said, pointing a finger at me. “ Yes. Anthony has marked he’s attending, so I’m thinking we go, kidnap him, torture Talon’s location from him, then finish the night with some Chinese food. Sound like a plan?”

I dragged a hand down my face. It wasn’t exactly ideal for me, but the pros far outweighed the cons. I could handle one night dealing with ridiculous, old-timely traditions, idiotic people and pointless conversations if it meant I got my hands on Talon.

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed with a sigh. “When is the ball?”

“In one week.” Mikhail took back the tablet and stood, making his way to the drink cart in the corner of the room. “So, are we going to talk about what has you in such a foul mood, or are we just going to keep pretending everything’s hunky-dory?”

Rolling my eyes, I leant back in my chair and shook my head. “Hunky-dory? Who talks like that?”

“Me,” he said, giving me a thousand-watt smile. “Drink?” he asked, raising a glass in the air.

I waved a hand through the air and he brought one over, sitting it in front of me.

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