Chapter 13 Eyes Everywhere
Eyes Everywhere
Mikko
“Look at this,” Mikko said, his hand running anxiously through his hair while Cristiano peered over his shoulder. “You can’t tell me this hasn’t been edited?”
“I mean the timestamp skipping thirteen minutes is…telling.” Cristiano leaned in, eyes squinting at the security footage of Mikko’s penthouse.
“It takes time and skill to do this, to splice it this clean.” While technology wasn’t his strong suit—he paid others for that—there was no denying the evidence in front of the two men.
Sitting at his desk, he watched the surveillance back again and again, searching for clues or shadows or a hint of something the intruder left behind.
Nothing.
Heat flashed up his neck, his anger fresh despite the incident occurring yesterday. After discovering his keys and locket to be missing, he’d been fidgety and decided to put the energy to good use.
Which lead him to finding this.
Mikko tolerated a lot but, this…this was crossing a line. Once he found the perpetrator, they’d face the wrath he and his men were known for.
“And you said the only thing missing was the locket and your keys despite the mess they left behind?” Cristiano asked.
Mikko nodded, unable to voice his emotions.
“Weird. Out of all the enemies we’ve made, that isn’t something I’d think they’d go for.”
“It’s more personal than the work we do…” Mikko trailed off.
“Which is concerning,” Cristiano filled in.
Mikko’s fingers had drummed the wooden surface of his desk, contemplating if he should call the security company again.
They’d already told him there was nothing they could do.
While they supplied the equipment, storage and deletion was in the owner’s domain, therefore, they had no access to it.
He’d been sure to tell them how ridiculous that was before promptly hanging up.
Now one of his few safe havens felt tainted. Someone had been here, let themselves in, and became acquainted with his security measures enough to manipulate them to their advantage. If only his list of enemies wasn’t the length of the city’s population…
Cristiano straightened as a tired sigh slipped past Mikko’s lips. His back felt strained and ached from sitting at his desk all day again. The hour was getting late, and the screen was too bright compared to the rest of his room, but work had to be done.
“Well, no time to dwell on it now,” Mikko said, shuffling papers around on his desk, “these land acquisitions won’t win themselves.”
“Maybe not, but you look like you could use a night off…boss.”
Mikko waved his friend away, glaring at him for using that blasted word.
“I’ll get a day off when I’m dead, yeah?
” He couldn’t let these projects slip through his fingertips, the money and resources were too precious.
Besides, a business—no matter how corrupt—had to run efficiently like all the others.
“Still, I have a feeling you need to get laid, you’ve been awfully—”
“My sex life is not up for discussion tonight.” Mikko clicked out of the security footage, his annoyance flaring up each time he looked at it.
“Because it’s nonexistent,” Cristiano taunted as he walked away toward the liquor bar in Mikko’s kitchen.
“Just because I don’t share all the details of my intimate activities, like you do, doesn’t mean I’m not partaking.”
His friend chuckled as he poured himself a splash of bourbon into a tumbler. “Even so, the signs are all there, Mikko. You can’t fool me.”
Mikko didn’t say anything; his insufferable friend was right. “What signs?” he said aloud instead.
But the answer never came.
Looking up, Mikko saw Cristiano with the tumbler poised between the counter and his lips, frozen. In his other hand was his phone.
“What’s wrong?” Mikko asked, abruptly standing. A sinking feeling, one that went past the basic emotions of violation, started creeping in.
“I–uh…Devon texted me…” Cristiano trailed off, setting his glass back down. His hand scrubbed over his face. “He said Ivan’s been found dead.”
The world narrowed to a point, all sound around Mikko fading out before it rushed back in again.
“What?” When Mikko had last seen Ivan, he’d been very much alive—battered and beaten but still breathing.
Besides, Emma had confirmed Ivan had paid his dues and kept Bubblegum out of the journalism spotlight.
Mikko’s message had been clearly received by the dimwitted man.
For the time being, their feud and debt was cleared.
“Yeah, um, he said his body was found inside one of the warehouses along the waterways,” Cristiano answered. Death was common in his line of work, forever trailing a few steps behind him his whole life, but that didn’t make this news any less surprising. Or less infuriating.
After the past couple days, this was icing on the cake.
“One of ours?” Mikko asked out loud.
“Yes, and it seems he went out gruesomely.”
Mikko’s hand fidgeted with a pen sitting on his desk. “Which property?”
“The one Levi showed the other day.”
“That listing is never going to sell now with this kind of history attached to it,” Mikko lamented.
Cristiano finally took a sip of his alcohol, most likely needing the burn to keep himself centered. His phone pinged again as he asked, “Who did he show it to? Someone we have history with?”
Silky black hair and whiskey hued eyes flashed across his mind. “No one important,” Mikko said.
“You’re positive?” Cristiano asked. His thumb brushed across his phone screen, reading more texts pouring in.
No. “Yes,” Mikko continued, uncertainty cloaking his already weary shoulders. “But you said it was gruesome…”
“Yeah, Devon said the scene was a mess,” his friend cleared his throat, “and that he was mutilated.”
Mikko’s eyebrows raised. “And how was he killed?”
“A gunshot wound to the head.”
“And the mutilation?”
“Well, that’s the weird thing,” Cristiano hesitated, “the mutilation was done post-mortem.”
“A message then, for whoever would find the body and not for torture purposes,” Mikko said.
“It would appear that way, yes.” He continued mumbling under his breath as though Mikko wasn’t there, “at least I hope it was done post-mortem because damn—”
“Where was it, Cristiano?” The use of his friend’s name snapped him back into the present.
“Uh…his face.”
“Where on his face?”
Cristiano locked his phone and tucked it into his pocket as if locking a metaphorical door and throwing away the key. “I’m not sure you wanna know, it’s giving me a headache just thinkin’ about it—”
“Cristiano,” Mikko was stern, “you know I hate when you do this.”
A tense beat of silence passed as Cristiano knocked back the alcohol.
“His eyes,” he finally answered, voice tight. “His eyes were messed with, and let’s just say…they’re not there anymore.”
Something about the way Cristiano described the information from Devon made this death feel different. It was something fueled by anger. A personal vendetta.
“Does Devon know of anyone who could’ve done this?” Mikko mused. He knew he did, but he wanted to see what the other man said.
Cristiano laughed, his momentary disgust vanishing. “I fear we may have a longer list of enemies than most.”
“True.” God, now my head hurts. “I’ll start combing through people who’ve made moves against us in the past and create a list. Hopefully it leads us somewhere. I’ll also call in some favors that are owed.”
“I’ll do the same. I’ll probably drive out there tomorrow and talk with Devon personally. He said he’s handling the cops now along with any evidence they take.”
“Get a new phone since he shared that info with you. We can’t have people tracking this—tracking us. The less the public knows the better, and I’ll be sure to up the Portland’s Police Department budget to keep them happy.”
“And silent,” Cristiano tacked on.
“Exactly.”
Both men stood in silence for a bit longer, the weight of the world inching in with each breath. Finally Mikko spoke, “You’re more than welcome to stay here tonight, it’s getting late.”
His friend smiled, the planes of his face dull and tired. This job took so much from both of them. “I appreciate the offer, but my bed is a hell of a lot cozier than your expensive couch.”
“You can take the bed.”
“You snore I’m afraid.” Cristiano slipped his shoes on with a grin.
Mikko walked closer, ready to usher his friend out. “No, I don’t.”
“How would you know? You’re asleep.”
“Get out, I rescind my offer.”
A genuine laugh slipped past Cristiano’s lips and for a moment everything was normal. “Well, I’ll update you tomorrow,” he opened the door, “so until then, keep the doors locked.”
“Looking forward to it,” Mikko scoffed and waved at him as he closed the door behind his friend.
After he’d made sure the door was locked and his security system was armed, Mikko shucked off his shoes and threw his clothes in the hamper in his bedroom. The quiet of his penthouse surrounded him, and the thoughts in his head grew louder with each passing second.
There was never a dull moment.
And while Mikko hadn’t been lying when he said no one important had toured the warehouse, he still felt guilty for keeping his friend in the dark.
Soon. I’ll tell him soon, Mikko thought, but only after he had more answers to the questions Cristiano would surely ask. On top of that, he had his work cut out for him. Most of the time he only trusted his men as far as he could throw them, but this incident really had him questioning everything.
Especially Anika.
The occurrence happening in the same warehouse Levi showed her had a weird feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach.
Sighing, Mikko sat back down in front of his computer, the screen illuminating his features as he opened a new tab and prepared himself for what he might find as he sunk into the clutches of the dark web.
If there was a will, there was a price.