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“You trusted the Church,” he scoffed.

I looked at him.

He raised one hand. “Fine. Not the time.”

“No.” My voice sharpened. “It is exactly the time.”

His mouth tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he looked back toward the pool. “The information making the rounds is that the Coccico cartel has passed its use-by date.”

I frowned.

“That’s the phrase I keep hearing,” he continued. “They served a purpose. Now the men who used them are beginning to see them as a liability.”

“Names?”

“If I had names, we wouldn’t be sitting here drinking coffee.”

“Then give me rank.”

“High.”

“How high?”

His eyes met mine.

“Possibly the top of the hierarchy.”

Something changed in the air. The villa seemed to contract around us. The glittering pool. The manicured hedges. The guards positioned beyond the terrace. The high stone walls. All of it suddenly felt smaller against the weight of what he was suggesting.

“Political?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“Police?”

“Very likely.”

My stomach tightened.

“Church?”

His eyes settled on mine.

“We haven’t been able to rule it out.”

I stared at him.

“Then it can’t be good.” I set my cup down. “What’s the plan?”

“Until I know more, we do nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound like a plan.”

“It is if you’re patient, Demi.”

“I’m not.”

“I remember.”