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Roman shook his head, pushing his chair back from his desk. It had taken him some time to be okay with working from his office again. He hated that Godfrey had been in his space. But as Angela had told him, there was no part of the vile man left in Roman’s office, so he had agreed not to torch it. He did have it gutted, though, and now it had all new furniture, including his desk and chair.
“I’ll be fine, Luca,” Roman finally replied to his brother.
“You won’t be!” Luca insisted, looking anxious. “Everyone in the city wants you dead.”
“Not everyone,” Roman refuted. “They can’t touch me. And they know it.”
Luca marched around the new shiny desk, looking down at Roman. The only time he was able to achieve that was when Roman was sitting because of their height difference. “But we all know that one day, it’s going to be too much. They’re going to go from greedy and afraid to pissed off and not giving a fuck. And when that happens, they’re going to come for you.”
“If that day comes, it won’t matter where I am. Nowhere will be safe,” Roman pointed out.
At the moment, everywhere was safe. Roman had made sure of it. But his friends were right: it wouldn’t hold forever. And when that happened, there would be a bloodbath like the world had never seen. Although, technically, his old family had breached the truce more than once already. Every so often, a contract killer would come for him. The attempts were pathetic, which was why Roman knew it was all for show. But one day, it wouldn’t be.
But that day is not today, he thought, which is why he needed to make the most of it while he could. He stood up, forcing his brother back a step. He placed his hands on Luca’s shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he explained, “Godfrey was one of my father’s contacts. If I want more information, there’s only one place to get it.”
“You can’t be seriously thinking about going to the vaults,” Abel said, shocked.
Roman didn’t respond, choosing to look out his window at the clear blue sky instead. The vaults were a series of underground rooms in his childhood home where documents, files, computers, and other paraphernalia were kept. The Romano mafioso family had always kept meticulous records of the people they worked with, the people they bribed, and the people they killed. Some would say it was ridiculous to keep so much evidence lying around—dangerous, even. But, in fact, it was the opposite. It was the smartest way to ensure his family kept its power. And the one thing the Romanos valued above all else was power.
His mother’s family just so happened to have a similar setup. But where his paternal grandfather only began keeping records fifty years ago, his mother’s family had been keeping them for generations. It was why his grandfather wanted to marry off his eldest son so badly. It meant that when his parents married, the vaults—as his father dubbed them—became co-owned. And it would always be that way now. As the only grandchild in both direct lines, all the information should belong to Roman. But he had left it gladly when he disowned his family.
Roman refocused, answering Abel. “Yes, I’m talking about the vaults. Do you have a better idea? We’ve found nothing. Hell, Luca couldn’t even find a driver’s license other than Godfrey Dewhurst. Which is the name we already know him by. The facial recognition software has been a bust, too.” He raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Correct?”
“Correct.” Luca seemed pained to admit it. “So far, I haven’t even been able to use the one identifying feature Angel talks about—that birthmark of his. It makes me think this guy is connected to the government somehow. This level of blackout? He must have some very big contacts.”
Roman grunted, unimpressed. “Which is why I need to use mine.”
“Your family is not a viable contact, Roman,” Salvatore said seriously.
Sal was always the voice of reason, and usually, when he didn’t agree with a plan, Roman listened. But not this time. “It’s the only option we have. Unless Morrigan has some new information?” She was currently at the hospital watching Angel. Roman hadn’t spoken to her since her return from her latest mission the night before.
Sal shook his head, a frown furrowing his brow. “She reported to me last night. Landon’s place was a bust. Completely empty.”
Roman cursed, swinging his leg back to kick his desk. Luca stopped him at the last minute. “Don’t kick it. It’s brand new.”
Roman didn’t give a shit. A few dents added character. But he merely rolled his eyes at his brother and left the desk alone. “What do you mean by empty?” he demanded.
They had been systematically going to all the restaurants, bars, and clubs that Colt and others could remember Godfrey going to when they were on his security detail. They had some information from cooperative employees, but they all knew the man by the same alias. Godfrey. Julius Landon was a car salesman, selling to the elite, and a man Colt remembered well. Apparently, Godfrey and Landon got into an argument the last time they met. Roman had been hopeful the man could be of assistance. Or at least, persuaded to be.
“Cleared out,” Sal replied. “Morrigan said his house had no furniture in it, as if he’d moved and was about to sell. The manager at his dealership said Landon was taking a spontaneous extended vacation.”
“Bullshit,” Abel stated, looking angry. “Godfrey got to him first. He’s tying up loose ends.”
“Right,” Sal confirmed. “Before we get a chance to. He’s smart. He’s going to be a problem, Roman.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Roman snarled. “It’s been seven days! That may not be long for the cops, but it’s an eternity for us. And it can’t be allowed to continue. I’m going to New York, and that’s final.”
“Fine. I’m coming with you,” Luca said.
It was Salvatore’s turn to jump to his feet. “No. Absolutely not.”
Luca had the stubborn tilt to his chin going on, so Roman wasn’t surprised when he ignored his fiancé. “You’ll need me, Roman. I can access the databases quicker than you ever could.”
“My father was old school. The records are likely paper,” Roman said. There was no way he was allowing Luca to go anywhere near the Vincenzo family.
“And if they’re not?” Luca challenged, shoving a hand on his hip in a sassy way.
“If they’re not, I know how to work a computer, Luca. I’m not a moron,” Roman replied. “You’re not going.”
