18. Max
— ? —
Max
I’m in the barn loft, going through security reports on my laptop, when Nico’s name lights up the screen. I answer on the second ring.
“Talk to me.”
“We’ve got movement. Sergio pulled three of his captains off regular rotation yesterday. They’re not at any of the usual locations.”
“Where?”
“That’s the problem. We don’t know. They dropped off surveillance around midnight, haven’t resurfaced.”
I close the laptop and stand, moving to the window that overlooks the farmhouse. Cat’s in there somewhere, probably writing. She’s been at it for hours every day, barely coming up for air except for meals.
“Could be nothing,” I say. “Could be a meeting we don’t know about.”
“Could be. Or could be they’re planning something and they don’t want us to see it coming.”
“Get Enzo on the line. Conference call. I want both of you.”
“Give me two minutes.”
The line goes quiet. I watch the farmhouse while I wait, thinking about the chalkboard rules that have governed my life for the past week. No secrets, ever again. Tell her everything that happens with the famiglia.
Everything.
When the line clicks back, both voices come through.
“Max.” Enzo’s tone is clipped, professional. We’ve reached an uneasy truce since Cat and I showed up at his door, but he’s never going to like me. I’ve made my peace with that.
“Enzo. Nico just briefed me on the missing captains. What do you have on your end?”
“My people tracked a money transfer yesterday. Sergio’s accounts to a shell company in the Caymans. Two million, clean as a whistle.”
“Payment for something?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Every answer we dig up spawns three new questions, and the clock is not on our side.
“Or preparation for something. Hard to say without more context.”
“Can you trace the shell company?”
“Working on it. These things take time, and Sergio’s accountant isn’t stupid.”
I’m already heading down the loft stairs, crossing the yard toward the farmhouse. Cannoli spots me from her patrol route near the chicken coop and starts her aggressive waddle in my direction, but I’m moving too fast for her to intercept.
“Hold on,” I say into the phone. “I’m bringing someone else into this conversation.”
“Who?” Enzo asks.
“Your sister.”
A pause. “Max, this is operational-”
“This is exactly what she asked for. Everything that happens, she hears it. That was the deal.”
“She’s pregnant. She doesn’t need the stress of-”
“She’s also smarter than half my captains combined, and she specifically demanded to be included. So she’s being included.”
Nico’s voice cuts in, amused. “He’s got you there, Enzo.”
“Shut up, Nico.”
I push through the farmhouse back door and head toward the small office off the kitchen, what used to be Nonna Vittoria’s sewing room, now converted into a workspace. The door is half-open, and I can see Cat hunched over her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard.
She’s wearing one of my flannel shirts. She stole it from the barn two days ago and hasn’t given it back. I haven’t asked for it.
“Give me one second,” I murmur into the phone, then cover the mic with my hand.
I move quietly to stand behind her, leaning down until my mouth is near her ear.
“Busy?”
She shrieks.
The sound is loud enough that I hear Nico laugh through the phone’s speaker. Cat spins in her chair, one hand pressed to her chest, glaring at me with enough fury to melt steel.
“What is WRONG with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“You were very focused. I didn’t want to interrupt from across the room.”
“So you snuck up on me like some kind of assassin?”
“I walked normally. You were just very absorbed in…” I glance at the laptop screen. She slams it shut before I can read more than a few words. “Whatever that was.”
“It was work. Private work. Work that doesn’t require your commentary.”
“Understood.” I hold up the phone. “You might want to hear this.”
Her expression shifts from irritation to interest. “Hear what?”
“War council. Your brother and Nico are on the line. There’s been movement with Sergio’s faction.”
She’s on her feet immediately, the laptop forgotten. “Put it on speaker.”
I do. Her brother’s voice fills the small office.
“Cat? You’re there?”
“I’m here. What’s happening?”
“Three of Sergio’s captains dropped off surveillance last night,” Nico explains. “We don’t know where they went or what they’re doing.”
“Hold on,” I say. “Cat, you should know about the transfer Enzo mentioned. Two million to a Cayman shell company yesterday. We don’t know who’s on the receiving end yet.”
“Which three?”
I raise an eyebrow. She catches it and shrugs.
“I paid attention during family dinners. Which three captains?”
“Russo, Benedetti, and Carbone.”
“Carbone’s a weapons specialist. Russo handles logistics. Benedetti’s been Sergio’s personal enforcer for fifteen years.” Cat moves to the window, staring out at the farm like she’s seeing something else entirely. “If those three are together off the grid, they’re not having a poker game.”
“That’s our assessment too,” Enzo says. “The question is what they’re planning and when.”
“And where,” I add. “If they’re moving against us, they need a target. The main house is heavily guarded. So is Enzo’s compound. They’d be stupid to hit either one directly.”
“Sergio’s not stupid,” Cat says. “Ruthless, yes. Stupid, no.”
“So what’s he after?” Nico asks. “If not a direct hit, what’s the play?”
Silence on the line. I watch Cat’s face as she thinks, the way her brow furrows, the way she chews her bottom lip when she’s working through a problem.
I’ve seen this expression before, over chess boards, during late-night conversations about strategy and history, in the warm months before everything went cold.
“The money transfer,” she says suddenly. “Enzo, you said two million to a shell company?”
“That’s right.”
“What if it’s not payment for something that already happened? What if it’s a retainer?”
“A retainer for what?”
“Outside contractors.” Cat turns from the window, her eyes bright with the particular energy she gets when she’s figured something out. “Sergio’s faction is strong, but it’s not strong enough to move against both families at once. He needs numbers. What if he’s hiring them?”
“More hired men?” Nico sounds grim. “The bedroom attackers were strangers too. I thought that was Marcella keeping her father out of it.”
“You don’t bring outsiders into family business if you’re planning to play by the old rules,” Cat counters. “But Sergio’s whole thing is that the old rules don’t apply anymore. The alliance changed everything. Why wouldn’t he change his tactics too?”
“She’s got a point,” I say. “Sergio’s been complaining for months that the alliance made us weak. If he’s willing to work with outsiders to prove it, that would explain the shell company. Plausible deniability.”
“And if the money’s a retainer,” Enzo picks up the thread, “then the three missing captains might be meeting with whoever he’s hiring. Setting up the terms, establishing the logistics.”
“Can you trace the shell company to any known mercenary groups?” Cat asks. “Private military contractors, security firms with questionable ethics? There has to be a paper trail somewhere.”
“My people can look,” Enzo says slowly. “But that’s a lot of ground to cover. Half the companies in the Caymans are fronts for something shady. We’d be looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“So narrow the haystack.” Cat is pacing now, thinking out loud.
“Sergio’s old-school. He’s not going to hire some random group he found on the dark web.
He’s going to use someone he has a connection to, someone he trusts as much as he’s capable of trusting anyone.
Look at his history. Military service, old business partners, anyone who’s done wet work for the family in the past and then gone private. There’s a connection somewhere.”
“That’s actually not a bad approach,” Nico admits. “Sergio served in the Italian military before he came up in the organization. If any of his old unit went into private security work-”
“Exactly.” Cat stops pacing. “And the three captains who disappeared. Carbone’s the weapons guy, right? If Sergio’s bringing in outside firepower, Carbone would be the one to evaluate them. Make sure they’re worth the investment.”
“So we look for mercenary groups with Italian military connections,” Enzo summarizes, “and we try to figure out where Carbone would take them for a meeting and demonstration.”
“Somewhere isolated,” I add. “Somewhere they could test weapons without attracting attention. Sergio owns property upstate, that hunting lodge he uses in the fall. Has anyone checked if there’s been activity there?”
“I can have eyes on it within the hour,” Nico says.
“Do it. And Enzo, the money trail-”
“I’m already texting my financial guy. We’ll have a list of possible contractors by tomorrow morning.”
Cat catches my eye across the room. Her eyebrows are up, surprise, maybe, that I’m actually doing what I promised. Including her. Treating her ideas like they matter.
They do matter. They’ve always mattered. I was just too stupid to show it.
“Good,” I say into the phone. “Anything else?”
“Just one thing,” Enzo says. “Cat, are you okay out there? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine, Enzo.”
“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”
“I’d tell you if there was anything you could do about it. Which there isn’t. So I’m fine.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s close enough for now.” Her voice softens. “I’ll call you later, okay? Just us. No war talk.”
“I’d like that.” A pause. “Max.”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of her. Or I’ll take care of you.”
“Understood.”
The line clicks dead. I lower the phone and look at Cat, who’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“That was good,” I say. “The mercenary angle. The military connection. Those are solid leads.”
“I’m not just a pretty face.”
“I never thought you were.”
“You thought I was a chess piece. A treaty obligation. Pretty much the same thing.”