Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“She’s visiting family in New York this week. And don’t even get some grand ideas. She doesn’t even like looking at the bodies, let alone touching them.” There’s a dangerous and protective edge to her tone.
She hurries toward her office and I follow her.
“Don’t walk away from me; I’m not done with—”
She turns and faces me, a heated flush over her cheeks. “I don’t have time for your macho shit, okay. Bodies don’t go missing. Not here. Not under my care. I’m checking my cameras.”
My jaw locks. The balls of this woman to speak to me like that. But I bite my tongue and follow her into the office.
She opens her laptop while I watch over her shoulder.
She shifts slightly, so she can see me in her peripherals, as if she doesn’t like anyone standing behind her.
“At midnight last night, all of the cameras went blank…” she says.
“They’ve been hacked,” I tell her.
“No shit,” she snaps. Her fierce irritation takes me aback. It’s not her uncle, but this feels more like the breaking of the things she has structured in place. If one person does it, others might try it too. “Who the fuck? I had the best security installed. This has never happened.” It’s only there for a split second, but I see the panic take over, before her expression is clear again. Ten minutes after the footage originally cuts out, it’s reinstated on all eight cameras as if nothing happened.
She stands from her desk and begins pacing back and forth on the floor, biting at the tip of her nail. “I was here on Sunday. You were the only one who visited. Everything’s where it’s meant to be. Not even the locks are broken.” She comes to a stop, and her eyebrows sink. But if she’s come to a conclusion, she’s not sharing it.
“Who brought the body in?” I demand.
Her gaze slides to mine. “I can’t share that information.”
“Who?” I demand. My temple pulses. I promised my crew I’d bring him home. I’m not wasting time with anymore pleasantries. “Which fucking family?”
Her gaze is scathing, and I give her credit. When most would at the very least flinch, she only sneers. She collects the envelope of money and throws it at me. I catch it at my chest.
“I don’t know. I’ll find that fucking body, though.” She’s all venom.
“How do you not know!” I demand.
“Cash exchange,” she reminds me. “No questions. Just get the job done. The person who brought the body in was covered and wearing a mask. I don’t ask questions. I choose who I do and don’t work with.”
“How much did they give you?”
“That’s classified,” she snaps, and I scoff, looking up at the ceiling. Then again, wanting to compare what my uncle’s body was worth doesn’t get me anywhere either. Although it’s inconvenient, I believe she doesn’t know. In fact, the only reason she’s probably giving me this much information is simply because she knows she’s fucked up.
I slam the envelope of money down on the desk. “I own you now.”
“Like fuck you do,” she bites out, and I slide around the desk to face off with her.
She’s five foot five but juts her chin out with a defiance that could have her standing among giants.
“And what do you think will happen when word gets out that bodies can suddenly go missing here? That your system here is penetrable. Won’t that be bad for business? For you.”
She scowls, and I know I’ve hit the mark. This woman is clever and, for some reason, she knows how the families operate. I’ve never cared about bodies getting burials before, but when it becomes personal, I do.
“I’ll have one of my men be in touch. We’re not done here. When I call, you answer.”
“Like fuck I do.” I ignore her because anyone in their right mind would know that’s not a request. Her reluctant alliance might be the only thing that keeps her protected, because if I wanted word to get out on the streets, it could ruin her.
But I suspect whoever is behind this knew I’d end up at her morgue and understood she wouldn’t give me the body for at least two days. They’ve baited me, only to steal the body. Why, I’m not sure. Perhaps to cover up the evidence. Maybe it should’ve never made its way here in the first place?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Valen. He answers immediately. “Boss, how did your little date go with Grim? Did you get—”
“His body has gone missing.”
Silence.
“What? How? Who?”
“I want you watching Leonore Graves, personally. Watch her movements.” I hate to admit it, but whoever did this cleaned up their tracks. I realize with clarity that Jacob Wolka might not have been the killer at all but only a distraction. The only other information I’ve been able to gather about my uncle’s death is that he was seen at one of his favorite bars two hours before I received an anonymous call to tell me that Pietro Vescari was dead.