“Exactly. Vincente said he couldn’t interfere in the meet without it looking suspicious, but she was totally safe. Didn’t turn his back for a second. Said she left after telling them she was heading to the airport.” He raised a hand before Gabriel could curse. “Made no specific mention of Seattle, but Stefano seemed to get this was where she was heading. Asked about a lover. Start to finish, it lasted less than ten minutes.” Alek sat back in his chair. “Guess the question is, how does he know about her?”
Gabriel answered it. “He still has eyes on me.” Staring blindly at an article written in the Seattle Times about a large function being held at the Crown Jewel tomorrow night, he ignored the urge to hammer his fist on the top of his desk. Disgust at his carelessness attempted to rise up, but he slapped it away. It returned to press home the fact that if he hadn’t been so distracted by a killer body and a flawless face, he’d have paid more attention to the things going on around them. And if he’d paid more attention to what was going on around them, he’d have nailed the peeping fuck—whoever he was—and cut off the reports making their way back to New York. “Does V have a lead on where Stefano is getting his information?”
“He said they were seeing a private investigator today that he thinks might be our guy.” Alek’s tone was hopeful. “And I agree. Stefano’s visit today was about recon. He was fishing. If he was already convinced you were sleeping with her, he’d have played it smarter and not brought Vincente with him, my cousin would be dead, and Paynne would be tagged as the murderer.”
Harsh, but all true. Stefano had gotten close enough today to kill Eva in the same violent and sadistic way he’d taken the lives of at least three other women Gabriel had slept with. To the public, the murders had seemed like random killings, three more unsolved crimes for the Seattle PD, as was the way in their world. He and Stefano kept their business their business, but the photographs his brother had sent Gabriel had let him know who was responsible. And who would be responsible for the next killings, because the calculating lunatic wasn’t going to stop until he’d followed through on the threat he’d made the last time he and Gabriel had spoken five years ago.
The day I hear you’ve found the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with…I’ll be there to take her away from you. The same way you took Adrianna from me.
Never would Gabriel forget looking across that dark warehouse at the raw hatred on his brother’s face. Guilt was a nasty companion he’d lived with ever since. Because, inadvertently or not, he was responsible for the explosion that had killed Stefano’s woman.
Gabriel had left New York, and the life, that same night and hadn’t looked back. Truth be told, he found no fault in his brother’s thinking. Sure, he hated the years-long vendetta—not that he and Stefano had ever been close. And, of course, the looking over his shoulder and the casualties were all one large, unnecessary pain in his ass. But he respected it. Understood it. Would probably do something similar if the tables were turned.
But.
Stefano’s vindictive nature was once again reaching out to wrap around others. Involving innocents in something that should never have extended beyond the key players: Gabriel and his brother. Eva Jacobs should not be in the equation, and knowing she was being pulled in made it clear the vendetta could no longer be ignored.
Stefano coming into contact with her today hadn’t just crossed a line; the meet-and-greet had obliterated it. And Gabriel couldn’t let it happen again.
THREE
Having refused a seat, Stefano Moretti stood in front of a messy desk and opened one of the folders he’d just received. The thing smelled like French fries.
No one would say Ian Preston was the most glamorous private investigator in Queens, but his work was unparalleled.
“Them’s the pics and info on the other one you wanted to know about,” Ian wheezed through his flabby throat. “Wasn’t easy to get. The husband keeps her locked up real tight.”
As he should, Stefano thought absently while scanning the top page in front of him, which was a short bio. Flipping it over, he took a moment to appreciate a striking redhead with ivory skin and green eyes.
It had been his underboss who’d suggested putting Preston onto gathering information on Caleb Paynne. And Furio been right. Dangling a threat over the biker’s little sister would keep a lid on any hurt feelings Paynne might have regarding today’s B and E. And she might come in handy if Stefano was in need of information only the biker could give him. Always smart to have insurance.
Closing the file, he moved onto the other one, focusing his attention on a photo of Eva Jacobs crossing the street in Morningside Heights, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders and down her slender back.
She was stunning.
“That’s who you and Romani had to see before you picked me up?” Furio Abella hovered over Stefano’s shoulder, never far away.
“Gabe sure knows how to pick them.” He hated to compliment his brother but couldn’t fault the guy’s choice in women. Even though something was off with this one.
It had taken a while to notice the common theme in the many photos the PI had taken of Gabriel in the last few weeks. But once Preston identified the unifying thread and brought it to Stefano’s attention, he’d seen for himself that Eva Jacobs had been somewhere in the background of too many shots for it to be a coincidence. Way too many. But the strange part was, the two of them were always in the same area, but never together.
And even stranger?
Gabriel’s eyes were glued…Eva Jacobs’s were not. In fact, it was as if she didn’t know he was there at all.
Very interesting. For his self-banished brother to break his own golden rule by repeatedly coming back to New York just to trail behind a woman as she went about her business? Never speaking to her, never in any contact whatsoever?
What were they missing?
“Still no connection?” he asked Preston.
“Nothin’. But I’m workin’ on it,” came the quick promise.
Nodding, Stefano tucked the folders under his arm. “Work harder. You should already be on a flight to Seattle.”
As he left the stuffy office, Furio fell into step beside him. “I don’t think we should wait,” his underboss said, volunteering his opinion as freely as he always did. Stefano didn’t mind. Saved him from having to solve all of their problems himself.
“Preston’s close.” As they headed down the narrow staircase, he tried to speak and hold his breath at the same time so he wouldn’t inhale the heavy odor of poverty. “We’ll give him a day or two once he reaches Seattle—”
“Why the extra time?” Furio interrupted impatiently.
After a brief pause, Stefano relented. “Fine. Who do we have that’s dispensable?” Because if he knew his brother, whoever they sent to the West Coast likely wouldn’t return.
“Skars just got out.”
When they reached the street, Furio exited the building first, crossing the sidewalk to open the door to the Navigator. Once Stefano climbed into the back, his underboss shut the door and joined Vincente, who was at the wheel in front.
Stefano resumed their conversation. “Send Skars to Seattle. Tell him to give her a message to stay away from Gabriel. And make sure he understands that he isn’t to touch her. That’ll come later.”