Chapter 14 #3
“It’s also not exactly the best place to discuss business, and I’m assuming that’s how Rory got him to agree to this meet.”
“She may have mentioned that Emilio was considering expanding his portfolio.”
Locke’s brows raised. “And he believed that?” Construction projects weren’t a Cordova Family interest—never had been.
“Never underestimate the self-deluding power of greed.” Zev eyed Locke over the rim of his cup as he sipped his coffee. “He’s not going to be happy you’re here.”
Locke leaned back in his chair, unconcerned. “If he recognizes me.”
“You think he won’t?”
“I think we have a fifty-fifty shot. He was pretty worked up when he confronted Angel.”
“Speaking of…” Zev settled back in his seat. “How dirty do you think this Angel is?”
“Fucking filthy. From what Isa shared about how he came up, it’s no surprise he’s got his hands in this mess.”
“You mentioned trafficking and drugs.” When Locke nodded, Zev said, “Those two interests tend to land high on the authorities’ radar.”
“Not if your ‘talent agency’”—Locke formed air quotes around the last two words—“is part of a larger enterprise fronting a criminal syndicate. And given that Angel’s a Harvester, it’s not hard to believe he’s got his fangs in quite a few key people.”
Zev studied him. “I had Roxy start running information on Angel or any known members of the Idyl Devils.”
Tension zipped through Locke. “And…?”
“And it’s slow going. Those that aren’t dead or in jail have buried their identities deep.” Zev drummed his fingers on the table. “And whoever Angel used to cover his tracks did a thorough job, because Roxy’s still untangling the knots.”
“Nothing that connects him to the Forge Foundation?”
Zev shook his head.
Locke wasn’t surprised. Nothing could ever be that easy. “Well, if Montenegro doesn’t give us anything, we need to hit up Janek Healy.”
Zev’s attention sharpened. “Healy? From Signature Enterprises?”
“Yeah, he was there last night too.” Locke rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought I told you that.”
“You didn’t.”
Locke winced. “Shit, sorry.” There was something in Zev’s expression that had him asking, “What?”
Zev gave a half shake of his head. “Maybe nothing, maybe something.” He took out his phone and sent off a text as he kept talking. “It’s just that the Thatchers were angel investors with Healy’s Signature Enterprises.”
“Are you serious?” A sharp sense of anticipation woke, as if Locke had caught the faintest hint of a revealing scent.
Zev nodded as he set his phone aside. “They weren’t the only ones, but…”
“But it’s a link.” Dubious as all hell, but it was something.
Back at the start of this mess, two rival Family companies, LanTech and Origin, were chasing the formula Emilio’s sister-in-law had created, the same one that would become the Delphi serum.
Keith Thatcher had kept LanTech’s books and used insider knowledge to blackmail his way to a very violent death.
“You would think after Emilio got done with decimating LanTech and Origin, that would’ve been the end of it,” Locke said.
Zev’s expression darkened. “It would’ve been if not for Jude Novak.”
“Got to admit, I never really thought the whole Cabal story was real.” The traitorous councilman had been a player in a shadowy group of disenfranchised fringe mages and twisted scientists intent on gaining both political and financial power from the Families.
“Now I’ve got to wonder just how deep their rot runs. ”
“Deep,” Zev said grimly.
A ring of bells drifted over the din of conversation and background music.
Zev’s gaze sharpened on something behind him, so Locke twisted in his seat as Beto shouldered his way through the door.
Dressed in a bespoke suit, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
He pulled off a pair of sunglasses and scanned the room.
His gaze landed on Zev then flared just a bit when it encountered Locke. Beto frowned.
“Yep, he saw me,” Locke said under his breath as he twisted back around, giving the financier his back as he took another sip.
Zev tilted his head toward the counter where Maeve sat, a silent indication for Beto to order something. Locke maintained his casual pose as he watched Zev track the other man’s movements. Silent minutes passed as they waited for Beto to join them.
“Aslanov.” Beto’s voice was surprisingly relaxed but carried a hint of something darker.
“Montenegro.” Zev motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”
Beto set a glass of iced tea on the table then settled his thick body into the chair, taking a moment to smooth out the lines of his slacks.
He watched Zev activate the privacy rune etched into the table’s wooden top, ensuring that their conversation would not be overheard.
Only then did he turn his attention to Locke.
“I didn’t catch your name last night.”
Locke curved his lips, more in warning than welcome. “I didn’t give it.”
Beto’s mouth tightened, and irritation flared deep in his eyes. “Why am I here?” he asked Zev.
“We have some questions.”
“About…?”
“Your assistant,” Locke said.