Page 16 of Grimm
“Well, not friends, more like associates,” she continued.
I raked my hand down my face, then rubbed my temples. The pounding in my head increased the more she talked.
How fucking close was she to these people?
“He was sent to Italy,” she said, “but came back a few months ago when his older brother, Dante, was killed in some mafia shit in Chicago. He’s in line to head the Bianchi Syndicate, you know? Old man Bianchi is fighting pancreatic cancer. He’s got maybe six months to live.”
Rumors he was sick had been spreading for months, but nothing was ever confirmed. The head of the family, Giovanni Bianchi, had a bounty placed on his head thirty years ago and was run out of Chicago when Antonio Rizzo, the head of the Rizzo Crime family, took over. I wasn’t sure what he did to get on their shit list, but since the Bianchis stepped foot in Vegas, they’d been after our territory. But there’d been peace between Sin City and the Bianchis for years because Angus and old man Bianchi struck a truce. Since I’d been at the helm, I’d honored the truce between our organizations and had no troubles with them.
Until now.
“Where the hell did you hear all this shit?”
“Alana told me.” She chuckled. “She can’t keep a secret for shit. She said his marriage has been arranged to one of the daughters of a Don from New York.”
“What’s her name, and what does she look like?”
It had to be the woman in the photos. If she was Bianchi’s woman, it would explain the expensive jewelry. She was young, but the Italians were known for arranged marriages to girls barely out of their teens.
“I don’t know her name or what she looks like.”
“Can you find out?”
“Probably. What’s up? Why all the questions about Alonzo?”
A knock sounded at my office door.
“Get her name and a pic of her, then send it to me ASAP. Someone’s at the door. I got to go, sis. Thanks, and I owe you one.”
“Tav!”
I ended the call. The next time I saw her, she’d hand me my ass for hanging up on her without answering all her questions, but I didn’t have time to be grilled. I didn’t know what kind of shit this latest information would start, and I didn’t want my little sister anywhere near it.
“Come in!”
Joker walked in, his lips pressed together.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing up at him before shifting my gaze back to the pictures.
“River’s dead.”
I stopped, dropped the photographs on the desk, and glared at Joker. Something had to be wrong for River not to be on time, but him being dead was unexpected.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Garage sounds filtered through the open door. The guys laughing and tools clinking together did little to drown out the blood rushing through my ears. I leaned back in my chair as shock ran through my system. He was supposed to be here, and now he was dead.
Joker shut the door behind him. “He’s dead, Grimm.” He held his clenched fists at his sides. “He was shot to death about an hour ago.”
“What the fuck!” I slammed my palm on top of my desk. “Who?”
“The detective who gave the notification said he was coming out of a drug house in Naked City. Said it was a drug deal gone bad.” Joker’s nostrils flared. “River weren’t at no damn drug house, Grimm. The kid wouldn’t even smoke a fucking joint. He despised drugs.”
Joker would know. He’d been the kid’s sponsor and one of the main reasons I trusted River and had no problem patching him in, unlike one of our other prospects, Weasel. That motherfucker was as shady as they came, which was why he’d been a prospect much longer than needed.
Joker had always been a good judge of character, and from the amount of time he spent with River, I trusted what he said.
“So why in the hell was he found at one?” I asked.
