Page 10 of Deception

“Sorry.”

“Oh no, don't mind me.” He turns back around. “Oh, yeah, you had a phone call earlier.” He keeps typing, leaving the announcement hanging.

“From … ?”

“I don't know. Some shady sounding motherfucker. He said he had a ‘tip for you.’ I almost laughed, since I know you haven’t had a date in months.”

“Ugh, you’re a pig! Did he tell you what the ‘tip’ was?”

Galo snickers. “Yes. He told me what it was.” Sifting through the notes stuck to his screen, he plucks one off. “Um…found a lead on the guy you were looking for.” I asked him who and he told me to mind my business and tell you that ‘he was spotted.’”

“Spotted where?”

“Like I know? God, you’re such a nag. No wonder you don’t have a man.” He grins, clearly savoring this torture.

“Galo.” I shoot daggers at him. “Give me the damn note.”

He tosses it at me and spins around, slipping up and out the door. “Ugh. I need coffee.”

Found a lead on the guy you were looking for. He was spotted in Spain. Train station. Left a photo at the usual spot. Do not call me again.

A lead.

A real lead on something I’ve been working on in my free time. A project that has left me at dead ends over and over again.

It’s been my mission ever since my brother died.

To find the man who took his life. Alessandro Diamante, an elusive and mysterious criminal and suspected head of one of the most infamous crime families in history.

Twenty minutes and a couple of bus stops later, I have the photo in my hand, a slightly blurry print of a CCTV camera shot. A tall, broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a long coat. He’s incredibly handsome. And he’s boarding a train.

The only clue.

It lights a fire in my belly, igniting my anger and drive to act.

Galo is right. It’s time for me to make a move. To go for it.

I’m going after Diamante, exposing him for the criminal he is. I’m going to nail that piece of shit to the wall.

3

ALESSANDRO

The old world has always enchanted me.

The way the architecture persists, the old ways, the culture, and the slow pace of the people. They treasure their history, their roots. None of this “toss out the old for the new.”

Maybe that makes me old-fashioned.

Sentimental.

The older I get, the more I appreciate the artistry, style, consistency, and quality. This new school of thugs, gangsters, and criminals doesn’t have a clue what it’s really about.

To be part of something like our family.

An institution.

A force to be reckoned with.

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