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“Every-fucking-one,” I grind the word out.
Even if Miguel is not behind the hotel burning down, I’m done waiting for Dario to find the fucker. I’ll work my way up from the bottom. Eventually, we’ll find someone who’ll lead us straight to Miguel.
Carlo holds the tumbler out to me, and taking it, I toss the whiskey down my throat.
The past week has been fucking tiring. It’s been one fucking problem after the other, making the anger in my chest reach boiling point.
Tommy and his men were attacked, and I lost six good soldiers, the alcohol delivery to the club was hijacked, and the senator I had in my pocket was found floating in the Hudson.
When my phone rings, I’m in a piss-poor mood and bark, “What?”
“They said the fire was started on the fourth floor. It was arson, boss,” Emilio gives me the news I’ve been waiting for.
Uncontrollable rage pours like hot lava through my body as I mutter, “We’re definitely under attack. Put everyone on high alert.”
“Okay. I’m on my way to the club,” he informs me.
I end the call and immediately phone Dario.
“Miguel was last seen in South America,” he answers.
“I want the fucker found, Dario,” I order, my tone low and deadly. “Stop fucking around and make it happen.”
He must hear I’m at the end of the little patience I have because he doesn’t try to crack a joke.
“Hold up,” he says. “The whereabouts of Migue’s uncle just came in.”
“Send it to me.”
“Okay.”
“Be extra careful out there,” I mutter. “Miguel is attacking.”
“Thank God I have Eden at my penthouse,” he breathes.
I end the call, and when the uncle’s details come through, I forward it to Carlo.
“I just sent you a message,” I say. “Have men bring him to me.”
“On it,” he replies, getting to work.
I start a group video call with the other heads of the Cosa Nostra, and when they all answer, I say, “Miguel’s attacking. He burned down the new hotel and took out six of my men. Be extra vigilant while I deal with the problem.”
“Christ,” Angelo mutters. “Anything I can help with?”
“Be on standby. The second Dario finds out where the fucker is hiding, we’re attacking.”
“Okay.”
When I end the call, I have to suppress the urge to throw the fucking phone.
“We’ll find Miguel,” Carlo says. “He can’t hide forever.”
“We better,” I snap.
Carlo pours me another drink, and while I take a sip of the whiskey, my thoughts turn to Gabriella.
I haven’t been home the past week, and I’d give anything to ease some of the tension by sinking deep into her sweet pussy.
